Babies Come From Orange Crates

My name is Moyenne LXXV, obviously, you do not pronounce the 75, it’s only there to reference what charge year I belong too. Today is a very important day, today is LXXV coming of age day. Today we all turn sixteen, and when a charge turns sixteen they receive a charge of their own.

Scary stuff right?

I was both excited and nervous, I was about to have a tiny little life depend on me. I was to clothe it, feed it and overall keep it happy. I wasn’t sure I was ready- everyone else around me seemed to be calm and collected. This was not an unusual occurrence, them being a little different to me- I often felt two steps behind everyone else. I had known this was coming, this wasn’t a surprise. We all knew we would be receiving charges, yet I still felt like it had snuck up on me. Sure I could probably learn how to look after their basic needs, but could I keep them happy? I could hardly keep myself happy... I stood in front of the one mirror we had in our bunk. I fiddled with the collar of my new jumpsuit. It didn’t seem to be lying down right. I sighed and came to terms with the fact that it would have to do. I looked too young. We all did really, we were no more than kids ourselves. I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. I tried to tell myself that I was fine, that I could do this.

You’re fine, you can do this. You’re fine, you can do this. You’re fine, you can do this. You’re fine, you can do this. You’re fine, you can do this. You’re fine, you can do this.

I repeated myself. I wasn’t really listening to myself. I wasn’t fine and I did not think I could do this. It was a whole, tiny little person- I was going to be all that they had. The others had gone to the dinner hall for breakfast- my stomach was doing flips. I decided against the food, I don’t think I could stomach dry cereal, my mouth was already too dry. I nipped to the toilet.

We were lead from our bunk. In a straight line. I lingered and walked towards the back. I knew I wasn’t returning. They had collected our sparse belongings in crates the previous night, the year below us would be moving in. I racked my brains, I couldn’t place Twenty from the lower charge year, I couldn’t remember their name. I could remember their face, but that wasn’t really hard work. I wondered if I should have left a note telling them about the rickety bed frame. It doesn’t wobble if you put a sock under the right top bed leg. It took me ages to work that out, prior to this revelation I found the bed rocking every time I moved. It did not make me popular in the bunk. I bit my lip; it was too late to make a difference, hopefully, they would figure it out on their own. I had packed two uniforms and not much else: a toothbrush, a comb and a couple of books. They put them in crates and took them away. We don’t really own very much. We’re supposed to believe that being materialistic is a sin, it doesn’t work for the better of the compound. I hung back and looked around at the room. It was as dark as it always was, twenty cots in four straight lines. It was always straight lines and perfect corners, so sharp I feared I would become impaled. Whilst we were walking I looked out of the window. It was the start of spring, outside was dusty and light. I sighed. I looked out past the vegetable patches and into the forest. I would much rather it be night-time. This day had been building up for weeks. I just wanted it over and done with by that point.

We were lead down the long white corridor, past all 74 photographs. The time stretched out longer than it was. We had only been in this corridor once before, when we were eleven. I swallowed a lump in my throat- apparently we only entered this corridor when we had butterflies in our stomachs. It was back when we took the career test. I lingered at the back of the line looking quickly at all the pictures. We all look so similar, we all have dark hair and green eyes. We’re all the same after the 20th charge year, before that we all look a little different. After the 20th charge year, our heights even out and our features sink up. Some people’s hair dried straight and some peoples dried curly. It all depended on where you let it dry. If you let it dry outside it goes curly and if you let it dry inside it dries straight. Mine mostly dried straight, expect if I washed my hair before we went to bed then it would often dry curly. I tried not to let this happen, then they knew what I had been doing. They then knew I spent the night outside. When I reached picture LXX I started to recognise some faces. I clocked Dean, the old commander for armed forces. It was coming up to Dean`s last year. Dean now filled his time telling younger recruits old stories and telling them the best way to hold a gun.

When we turn seventy-five, we are taken away. No one knows where we go, there are rumours that we go back to where we came from, wherever that is. The common belief is that we return to the light place- where we are created. Some people used think were taken out of the compound and shot in the back of the head. I found an old diary in one of the bunk cupboards when we were seven. I read their thoughts underneath a layer of dust. It was from the 25th charge year.

I`m getting old. They’ll take me soon. They’ll take all of XXV. It will be like we never existed...I don’t want to leave. I`m afraid. That bullet will drive through my brain, take my memories. I’ll be gone- dead on the outside floor, bleeding.

Getting shot in the head seemed a horrible way to go- I hoped it wasn’t true. It seemed a theory that posed more questions than it answered, who shot us? Where did they shoot us? Why did they shoot us? I didn’t know if this was a commonly held theory- was it just the owner of the diary or did others share this belief? It was hard to trace footsteps here...once you’re gone the only thing that remains of you is that photograph. Some don’t even get that luxury. Some people had even thought there was a whole world outside the wall, these people are long gone. They’re just myths now, stories of the insane. They may now know the truth. Most people think there is nothing. How could there be nothing? There has to be something...there can’t just be nothing?

Can’t just be nothing. Can’t just be nothing. Can’t just be nothing. Can’t just be nothing. Can’t just be nothing. Can’t just be nothing. Can’t just be nothing. Can’t just be nothing. Can’t just be nothing. Can’t just be nothing. Can’t just be nothing. Can’t just be nothing. Can’t just be nothing.

Surely, the walls of the compound aren’t the walls of everything. This couldn’t be it. Honestly, I just didn’t know. Everyone else seemed to have formed their opinion on the outside. That opinion being that there wasn’t an outside. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to accept that this was everything. When I was younger, I would lie awake and swear I could hear the outside, that I could hear the walls creak. I would wander the corridors in the absence of sleep.

I recognised more and more people as the years lingered on, most of them looked a little different now in comparison to the photos. When you’re a charge you’re given a uniform, but when you’re seventeen you become your own person. Clothing choices, however, are still limited- you can pick the colour of your overall, that’s about as far as your choices go. We’re given a day between being a charge and assuming our role in the compound. Most people use that day to reinvent themselves. They get tattoos, they change the colour of their hair, the colour of their eyes. The tattoos are a left over tradition from god knows when, tribal I think. Each charge year had their own tattoo, now, if opted for, each charge has their own unique tattoo. I can’t wait to change my appearance, I hate looking the same as everyone else. I just want to be my own person. Sometimes when I can’t sleep I lie awake and re-imagine myself. Sometimes I die my hair shocking colours- sometimes I just dye it lighter or darker. I make my eyes no longer that green colour that everyone shares and I grow my hair out. I get tattoos- sometimes full sleeves, sometimes just one on my wrist.

We reached the end of the corridor, there was an empty photo frame. Soon to be filled. The corridor was covered in photos, they would have to start a new line soon. Someone opened the door, we all piled into the next phase. We were lead to a room, it had four staggered black benches at an increasing height. The numbers from one to twenty were stuck to each seat. The numbers were starting to fade, the paint was flaking with age. We were instructed to sit at our number. We’ve always had the same number, it was the number that was printed on the crate we were delivered in. It was the number on our bunk door. It was the number stitched into our uniform and the number of the charge we would receive in a matter of moments. I sat on the lowest bench, on the number twenty. I looked around as everyone sat on their own number. Number four and number one remained empty. I scratched off some of the black paint of the number below me.

Four was Auden. Auden was my best friend, Auden liked to paint, much to our trainer’s dismay- painting wasn’t a viable career path. The trainer tried to sway Auden into education. I told Auden that painting was a form of entertainment and the compound was just stupid. Auden would just laugh at me. That being said Auden would have been a good teacher. Auden was kind and easy to talk too, Auden was the one person who didn’t think I was crazy when I lay awake at night listening to the outside. Auden would take the time to talk to me- discuss theories. It didn’t matter that we didn’t reach a conclusion. It mattered that Auden believed me.

“What would you do if you uncovered the outside?”

“Depends what the outside had to offer,” I would tell him.

You see Auden really liked to paint. However, the only painting that took place in the compound was the touch ups for the walls and they only occurred once every five years or so. They should have happened more frequently- the paint was always peeling. We would sneak around at night to steal paint. We would then hide it in a cupboard so Auden could do what Auden did best. I enjoyed watching the paintings come to life- it was almost hypnotic. Auden could turn paint into anything. We would steal food from the kitchen and sit in the cupboard for hours at a time.

However, this one particular painting involved poppies, we couldn’t find a red wall in the compound. We, therefore, assumed that there wouldn’t be any red paint knocking about. We picked poppies from the forest- we tried to crush them to paste to see if we could use that as paint- it didn’t work. One day Auden didn’t show up for morning class. This happened a lot, I wasn’t worried. I thought Auden was just sleeping, Auden had stayed up the night before filling in the scene behind the poppies. Missing breakfast didn’t raise my concern but I thought Auden would be hungry, I stole some bread from the kitchen and at break time, I snuck back to the bunk. No sign. I started to worry a little. I looked in the shower bunk and then in the cupboard...

Auden needed red paint.

Auden cut too deep.

It’s happened before, not all twenty made it through the charge years. It doesn’t happen very often but it can happen. It happened in X, XXXIII, and in LXIX. LXIX was partially bad, there was an epidemic when they were six. Seven of them died. Number One from our year never arrived, the crate was empty. System failure they said, that’s all they ever said. Which roughly translated as “we honestly haven’t the foggiest.” The flash of the photo temporally blinded me.

Then we were taken to another room. The delivery room. I hated this room, the babies came in via this room, the old left via this room. The dead were taken from this room. It smelt of earth and hand sanitizer. It was dark and didn’t look like any other rooms in the compound. The walls were bare bricks and it was much colder. I could hear the wind blowing up ahead, it whistled in the high ceilings. I wrapped my arms around myself in a vain attempt to conserve some heat. I rocked back and forth on my boots. The old plastic creaked beneath me. You could hear them crying, not loudly it was more like little whimpers, we lined up on our number. I tried to focus my mind, I tried not to imagine the bodies of the LXIX epidemic on the floor, swollen from the disease. I tried not to imagine Auden lying there. Blood pooling. I closed my eyes and imagined the stars. I scuffed my boot into the number beneath me. Over the intercom, a voice crackled. It spoke slowly; it felt like an age between each word.

“You have completed your sixteen years of charge training. Congratulations. Today you will receive your own charge, tomorrow you begin training within your tested field. We wish you every success in the future. Please collect your charge.” I was expecting more of a speech- this was a pretty momentous occasion. Now it felt slightly underwhelming. I looked down the line and looked at the others- they were all staring straight ahead with stony looks on their faces. I turned my head and did the same.

A buzzer went off and everyone else stepped forward to the orange crates. I sucked in a breath and also stepped forward. One second behind everyone else, two steps behind, like always. I could hear my heart beating in my head. My eyes were pulsing. I looked down at number Twenty. It was small and pink, I flicked my eyes to the right and saw Nineteen being picked up by Jason. Twenty looked identical to Nineteen. I put my hands underneath its back and picked it up, its blue blanket tossed to the side. It was kicking and scrunching its face up. It was heavier than I thought it would be. I tightened my grip. It was so tiny and I felt as if I was holding china. Like it would break into a thousand tiny pieces if I dropped it, not that I planned to drop it. However, it wriggled around so much that I feared I would. I tightened my grip on it even more and brought it up to my chest. The intercom crackled again.

“Number Four and Number One require a charge.”

I looked further down the row on my right. Baby Four was crying in the fourth crate. The blue blanket was draped over the side. It was obviously strong. I looked down at Twenty, it felt soft and calm. I looked further down the line, I couldn’t see as far as One. The other babies were now nestled in the arms of their new charges. I heard a wave of shushing, I rolled my eyes.

“Moyenne,” said the intercom. For a second I forgot that was me, I displaced myself from my name. There was a long pause. A couple of seconds later my heart sank, as my head caught up with my hearing. I nudged myself. I closed my eyes, those around me took a step back leaving me, Twenty, Four and One alone.

“Four.”

“I can’t look after them both!” I hollered, my voice cracking as I choked on my own breath. This morning I was scared at thought of taking care of one baby, I wasn’t mentally prepared to take on two. I couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t be fair on One, it wouldn’t be fair on Twenty. It wasn’t fair on me. I shook my head.

Another pregnant pause.

“You were a friend, were you not?” crackled the intercom. My heart sank even further, any further, I feared it would fall out of my body. It would hit the floor, I would be dead. I was in the right room. Friend didn’t cover it. Auden was more than a friend- Auden was the most important person in my life. Auden still was the most important person in my life despite no longer being with us. I couldn’t go a day without thinking about what I had lost. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing what we used to have. Auden and I were so close when Auden was gone it felt as if a part of me was gone also. I felt like I was missing a limb. The least I could do was look after Auden`s charge that would have been.

I said nothing. After a few seconds, I stepped forward to Four`s crate. I nestled Twenty between my torso and my left arm, then I scooped up Four with my free arm. The weight of two babies heightened my fear of dropping them. My centre of gravity shifted. I looked back down the line at One. I definitely wasn’t taking three. I didn’t have enough hands. I owed our One nothing- they never even showed up.

“What about One?” I shouted at nothing in particular.

“Who else is about to be trained in manual labour?” beeped the intercom. There was a short pause, then Emmett stepped forward from the crowd. Emmett scooped up number One and nodded at me. I followed Emmett back into the line. I was still finding it hard balancing the weight of the two babies. I felt top heavy. We walked back through the corridor. Some people had quickly mastered the bouncing walk that kept the babies happy. Some of the whimpering had stopped. I was too busy thinking about which foot to put forward to expend any more energy. I was glad to get out of that room.