in disgust. 'Why were you not chosen to become a Professional, a Doctor, or a Technician?'
'I am not intelligent enough, Madam. I require many hours of study to grasp the mathematics. '
'So. Weak, frail, not too bright. Why do you weep?'
'I don't know, Madam. I am sorry. '
'Go to your cubicle. You disgust me. '
Staring at a flaw in the floor, a place where an indentation distorted the light, creating one very small oval shadow, wondering when the ordeal would end, wondering why she couldn't fill the notebook with the many things that Madam Westfall had said, things that she could remember here, and could not remember when she was in her cubicle with pen poised over the notebook.
Sometimes Carla forgot where she was, found herself in the chamber of Madam Westfall, watching the ancient one struggle to stay alive, forcing breaths in and out, refusing to admit death. Watching the incomprehensible dials and tubes and bottles of fluids with lowering levels, watching needles that vanished into flesh, tubes that disappeared under the bedclothes, that seemed to writhe now and again with a secret life, listening to the mumbling voice, the groans and sighs, the meaningless words.
Three times they rose against the children and three times slew them until there were none left none at all because the contagion had spread and all over ten were infected and carried radios.
Radios? A disease? Infected with radios, spreading it among young people?
And Mama said hide child hide and don't move and put this in the cave too and don't touch it.
Carla's relief came and numbly she walked from the Viewing Room. She watched the movement of the black border of her skirt as she walked and it seemed that the blackness crept up her legs, enveloped her middle, climbed her front until it reached her neck, and then it strangled her. She clamped her jaws hard and continued to walk her measured pace.
The girls who had attended Madam Westfall in life were on duty throughout the school ceremonies after the viewing. They were required to stand in a line behind the dais. There were eulogies to the patience and firmness of the first Teacher. Eulogies to her wisdom in setting up the rules of the school. Carla tried to keep her attention on the speakers, but she was so tired and drowsy that she heard only snatches. Then she was jolted into awareness. Madam Trudeau was talking.
'. a book that will be the guide to all future Teachers, showing them the way through personal tribulations and trials to achieve the serenity that was Madam Westfall's. I am honored by this privilege, in choosing me and my apprentices to accomplish this end. '
Carla thought of the gibberish that she had been putting down in her notebook and she blinked back tears of shame. Madam Trudeau should have told them why she wanted the information. She would have to go back over it and destroy all the nonsense that she had written down.
Late that afternoon the entourage formed that would accompany Madam Westfall to her final ceremony in Scranton, her native city, where her burial would return her to her family.
Madam Trudeau had an interview with Carla before departure. 'You will be in charge of the other girls,' she said. 'I expect you to maintain order. You will report any disturbance, or any infringement of rules, immediately, and if that is not possible, if I am occupied, you will personally impose order in my name. '
'Yes, Madam. '
'Very well. During the journey the girls will travel together in a compartment of the tube. Talking will be permitted, but no laughter, no childish play. When we arrive at the Scranton home, you will be given rooms with cots. Again you will all comport yourselves with the dignity of the office which you are ordered to fulfill at this time. '
Carla felt excitement mount within her as the girls lined up to take their places along the sides of the casket. They went with it to a closed limousine, where they sat knee to knee, unspeaking, hot, to be taken over smooth highways for an hour to the tube. Madam Westfall had refused to fly in life, and was granted the same rights in death, so her body was to be transported from Wilmington to Scranton by the rocket tube. As soon as the girls had accompanied the casket to its car, and were directed to their own compartment, their voices raised in a babble. It was the first time any of them had left the school grounds since entering them at the age of five.
Ruthie was going to work in the infants' wards, and she turned faintly pink and soft-looking when she talked about it. Luella was a music apprentice already, having shown skill on the piano at an early age. Lorette preened herself slightly and announced that she had been chosen as a Lover by a gentleman. She would become a Lady one day. Carla stared at her curiously, wondering at her pleased look, wondering if she had not been shown the films yet. Lorette was blue-eyed, with pale hair, much the same build as Carla. Looking at her, Carla could imagine her in soft dresses, with her mouth painted, her hair covered by the other hair that was cloud-soft and shiny. She looked at the girl's cheeks flushed with excitement at the thought of her future, and she knew that with or without the paint box, Lorette would be a Lady whose skin would be smooth, whose mouth would be soft.
'The fuzz is so soft now, the flesh so tender. ' She remembered the scent, the softness of the Lady's hands, the way her skirt moved about her red-clad thighs.
She bit her lip. But she didn't want to be a Lady. She couldn't ever think of them again without loathing and disgust. She was chosen to be a Teacher.
They said it is the duty of society to prepare its non-citizens for citizenship but it is recognized that there are those who will not meet the requirements and society itself is not to be blamed for those occasional failures that must accrue.
She took out her notebook and wrote the words in it.
'Did you just remember something else she said?' Lisa asked. She was the youngest of the girls, only ten, and had attended Madam Westfall one time. She seemed to be very tired.
Carla looked over what she had written, and then read it aloud. 'It's from the school rules book,' she said. 'Maybe changed a little, but the same meaning. You'll study it in a year or two. '
Lisa nodded. 'You know what she said to me? She said I should go hide in the cave, and never lose my birth certificate. She said I should never tell anyone where the radio is. ' She frowned. 'Do you know what a cave is? And a radio?'
'You wrote it down, didn't you? In the notebook?'
Lisa ducked her head. 'I forgot again. I remembered it once and then forgot again until now. ' She searched through her cloth travel bag for her notebook and when she didn't find it, she dumped the contents on the floor to search more carefully. The notebook was not there.
'Lisa, when did you have it last?'
'I don't know. A few days ago. I don't remember. '
'When Madam Trudeau talked to you the last time, did you have it then?'
'No. I couldn't find it. She said if I didn't have it the next time I was called for an interview, she'd whip me. But I can't find it!' She broke into tears and threw herself down on her small heap of belongings. She beat her fists on them and sobbed. 'She's going to whip me and I can't find it. I can't. It's gone. '
Carla stared at her. She shook her head. 'Lisa, stop that crying. You couldn't have lost it. Where? there's no place to lose it. You didn't take it from your cubicle, did you?'
The girl sobbed louder. 'No. No. No. I don't know where it is. '
Carla knelt by her and pulled the child up from the floor to a squatting position. 'Lisa, what did you put in the notebook? Did you play with it?'
Lisa turned chalky white and her eyes became very large, then she closed them, no longer weeping.
'So you used it for other things? Is that it? What sort of things?'
Lisa shook her head. 'I don't know. Just things. '
'All of it? the whole notebook?'
'I couldn't help it. I didn't know what to write down. Madam Westfall said too much. I couldn't write it all. She wanted to touch me and I was afraid of her and I hid under the chair and she kept calling me, ‘Child, come here, don't hide, I'm not one of them. Go to the cave and take it with you. ' And she kept reaching for me with her hands. I. They were like chicken claws. She would have ripped me apart with them. She hated me. She said she hated me. She said I should have been killed with the others, why wasn't I killed with the others. '
Carla, her hands hard on the child's shoulders, turned away from the fear and despair she saw on the girl's face.
Ruthie pushed past her and hugged the child. 'Hush, hush, Lisa. Don't cry now. Hush. There, there. '
