The Painted Mask

The Earth our ancestors used to know hasn’t had life for thousands of years, or so they tell me. Some of the children don’t even believe that it existed to begin with. Even my sister thinks that the water-abundant sphere was just a metaphor for advancement, that it’s just an image painted the Authority. But I know better.

“Israel? Are you listening to me?”

I snapped out of my thoughts, adjusting my eyes back to the dimly lit family room. I glanced down, recognizing the stained wooden floors, the dark green couch. I continued raising my gaze until I met Lane’s face, contorted in disappointment. Her short chocolate hair hung around her face, and her blue eyes—not unlike my own—looked tired.

“Did you hear anything I just told you?”

“Mhmm,” I responded, stretching my arms above my head. “Yep. Every bit.”

Lane rolled her eyes, leaning back in her wooden chair. “Just forget it.”

“Already forgotten,” I teased, but Lane wasn’t having any of it. She looked away.

With my obvious sisterly charm, I flung myself at her feet, holding tight to her legs.

“Mighty Lane Tristan Gardener! Please forgive my ignorance, my apathy! With every fiber of my being, I promise I will listen to your wise words with full attention! Can you ever forgive me?”

She started to crack a smile, and she turned back to look at me. “Dear sister, I believe the mighty Lane Tristan Gardener may just forgive. But just this once.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, crawling back to my comfortable spot on the couch. “Now, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that tonight’s the night when I receive my permanent place in society.”

“Right, tomorrow’s your eighteenth birthday; it’s your first day as an adult,” I said, giving her a toothy grin.

“Don’t remind me,” she shuddered, “Anyways, those who move on to adulthood have to give a final speech at the ceremony tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“And then a family member walks the new adult to go receive their match.”

“Right.”

“Will you walk with me, Israel?”

My eyes widened a little bit. In New Emmanuel, the city we live, being asked to be a part of any ceremony is considered a big honor. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Lane giggled, “Who else could do it?”

“But I’m only seventeen! I’m not yet an adult myself.”

“You don’t have to be. I’ve already asked the Elder if it was acceptable,” she told me.

I relaxed a bit. The Elder was ahead of the Authority in New Emmanuel. I knew if he gave the okay, then we could trust his word.

“Okay. I’ll do it,” I nodded, brushing back a stray blonde curl.

Before Lane could express to me her thanks, I heard the front door open. In our small home, we only had three rooms—the family room, our parents’ room, and the bedroom Lane and I shared. When we had to “take care of business,” we had to trudge outside to the small hut used for that sort of thing. Lane will have to move out once she is given her match, so I will soon get our small room to myself, but that’s beside the point.

Mother walked in, looking sweaty and exhausted from a day in the fields. Behind her was Father, his appearance identical to hers. He carried a bushel of fruits and vegetables for our family—the daily quota we received as the Gardeners.