Called
“The Magistrate 5 calls Keya Trumer to testify.”
17-Year-Old Keya looked up in surprise at the announcement that was being played throughout their entire town on loudspeakers, her parents’ shocked faces frozen with fear at the announcement.
“How…is this possible? She is too young.”
Her mother’s voice finally broke the disbelief filled silence, and Keya felt her whole world starting to spin.
Being chosen to testify was less likely than winning the Botto Lotto, which was just a huge scam in the opinions of all who were too poor to even buy bread, much less spend their extra credits on the slim to none chance of being a Chosen.
Being chosen to testify was the opposite of becoming a Chosen, and Keya felt a rock in the pit of her stomach as she stopped loading the dishwasher and just stood, unsure of what action to take with such weighty news.
“There must be a mistake. I will call our local representative.”
Her father rushed from her mother’s now shaking with fear arms as he tapped on the nearest telescreen, and Keya knew how unlikely it was they would ever reach the representative for their sector, no matter the urgency.
There was a que, even for the emergency line, and Keya being called to testify was not deemed of importance, even if she was the youngest that had ever been chosen to make such a sacrifice.
“This is not right. She is our only born. The Promise set by the Magistrate is being broken.”
“Oh, Jess, we are not the first family in the low-class sectors for this to happen to, and we won’t be the last, especially because they have been ramping up the callings for whatever reason this past year.”
Her father looked at her with hopeless glazed eyes, ones that had seen too much carnage for one lifetime, and were more than ready for the next.
“But…my Keya…my baby.”
Keya felt a single tear slip down her cheek as she watched her parents wait for the impossibility of a video chat with Paul Ichodi, which was their local sectors busier than all hell representative for anything needing to be brought before the Magistrate 5’s judging panel.
“It’s O.K. Mom and dad, I can do it. It is a worthy sacrifice.”
Even as she spoke the words that were plastered everywhere on signs talking about the ‘privilege’ of being called to Testify, she knew it wasn’t true. Her parents would get a class upgrade, moving to the middle-class sector of Gurangula, but without Keya with them, she knew it didn’t matter to them much.
After living a life of nothing, with only your family as your treasured possessions, there is really no amount of money or item that can replace such things, and Keya felt good for her parents, but guilty at the same time. She was glad they would be taken care of until death, but she knew they would suffer without her there, and for that she felt guilt.
She wished she were older, stronger, could fight for her family and those few friends as she had been able to make in the dreary, harsh environment in sector Yulanchuu.
Even if the culture of their life was to workday in to day out, Keya always had found time to chat and work, which may have gotten her in trouble a few times, but in the end helped her production numbers in school, so her instructors had allowed it for the most part.
She wondered how she would talk to her friends one last time before she was quietly whisked away later in the evening, as were all who she had ever seen called to Testify.
It wasn’t the fact that nobody really knew what going to Testify really meant that had everyone scared of it, but the fact that nobody ever returned or were heard from again after they had left, not even a telecall or even tablet scribed letter to let anyone know they were ok.
The Magistrate, when first introducing the need for drafting citizens for Testifying, were adamant that they would only call on households with multiple children, and that class would not be a factor behind the choices.
The first 5 years had proven just that, but slowly, surely., the system got more corrupt as the richer families bought themselves immunity, and the ones who couldn’t afford it were chosen more and more, until it had evolved to what it was now, picking from the fish in a barrel that were poor citizens, with nobody to say otherwise.
“The Magistrate 5 calls Herrod Frinnick to testify.”
The second announcement had the whole town bustling with gossip that could be heard from inside every trash-made hut on the block, as not only had there never been a 17-year-old called, but TWO 17-year-olds at the same time?
