Wanting to Learn

"Absolutely not!"

The words rang through the dining room, loud enough to startle a small bird in one of the birch trees outside into flight. Judging from the tone, the speaker had now run out of reason and was now relying on volume.

"Send my children to that…that travesty of a school?" The person speaking slammed her hands onto the highly polished dining table for emphasis. She was in her thirties with blonde hair tied back and rectangular rimmed glasses balanced somewhat precariously on her nose. "I won't allow it, Roger!"

Roger sighed. He did love his wife, his feisty Lucille, but there were times when she seemed less a human being and more his own personal tormentor.

"Lucille, please keep your voice down. If a Patrol hears us…" He let the sentence trail off.

The thought of what would happen if a Patrol did hear them was enough to silence Lucille for three minutes by the clock, and ensure that she answered her husband in a much quieter voice than usual. Patrols were everywhere these days, constantly seeking out dissenters and dragging them away to the nearest facility for re-education.

"We can't, Roger. You know what the penalty is."

Roger snatched a book off its shelf and thrust it at Lucille, eyes blazing.

"Read that! Go on, read it!" When his wife hesitated, he shook his head. "You can't, can you? Nobody can, not anymore!"

Visibly stung by Roger's accusations, Lucille yanked the book out of his hands, glanced at the cover and then opened it.

"Rules of Citizenship, numbers 100-250. 100: Citizens must not argue with one another. 101: Citizens must inform immediate family that they love them three times a day. 102: Citizens must not make or produce any sound via TV, radio, musical station or any other broadcasting equipment over eighty decibels. 103: Citizens must—"

"That's not reading!" Roger's voice was almost a shriek, breaking Rule 207 (Citizens may not make negative statements to members of their family) and very possibly Rule 102 as well. Wincing as his own voice reverberated back at him, Roger continued in a much softer tone. "That's reciting. Central Control could have told you that book was all about 101 Fun And Exciting Things To Do With Cheese and you wouldn't know any different! Face it, Lucille, Central Control is probably lying through its back teeth!"

Next to Roger, their eldest daughter Shadi gasped loudly, eyes darting from her father to her mother and back to her father again. Even thinking such things was enough to get you a six month re-educational program.

A little more subdued, Lucille said, "The fees are exorbitant."

"The fees are the cost of food and materials for the child, Lucille." Now that his wife appeared more inclined to listen to him, Roger's hackles started to settle. "The school just expects it in one lump sum, that's all. It's done to protect us as much as provide for the child; if we have no contact with the school itself, Central Control can't prove we're doing anything wrong."

"In one lump sum." Lucille ran shaking hands through her hair. "Fifty thousand creds. Three children; one hundred and fifty thousand creds! We can't raise that kind of money!"

"Dad?" Eleven year old Vanna, the middle child and favourite one because of her bright blonde hair, spoke up. "Maybe the school do a kind of scholarship. Like…like maybe we could earn our way by doing chores or something."

Roger shook his head. They were coming to the point of this whole conversation now, he knew it.

"No, they don't. I met with a representative last night."

Vanna covered her eyes with a groan and a tad more melodrama than was strictly necessary; she looked like she was playing peek-a-boo. Shadi's hand flew to her mouth and Michael, who was only seven and the baby of the family, clamped both hands over his ears as though by drowning out the sound of his father's crime, he could change history and make sure it never happened.

Ignoring all this, Roger focused on his wife, who had now planted both hands on the table again and leaned forward on them.

"How dare you! You'd risk us all on a…a mere whim?"

Mirroring her position exactly, Roger answered, "My cousin's son went there—"

"Oh, so that's what started this off!"

"—and you should see him now! He's alert, he's vivacious, he's—"

"—probably on drugs—"

Roger pushed off from the table and spun away. Both hands shot up to his hair and clenched themselves into fists, and Vanna peeked out between her fingers to make sure she didn't miss anything interesting.

"We have the money in our savings account, Lucille. Shadi's too old, but we could send Vanna. Maybe when Michael's old enough, we'll have enough money to send him too."

Vanna sat bolt upright, suddenly excited.

"Me?"

She'd heard of 'the school', of course; everyone had. Apparently it was different from Central Command-approved schools; there was no corporal punishment and you actually studied different subjects in different ways, instead of simply memorising and reciting endless texts. It was said that the school would somehow teach you to understand the marks in the books, and use them to communicate.

Her mother was right though; it was expensive. Most families picked one child to send in the hopes that that child would then pass on what he or she had learned.

Vanna's parents glanced at her, then her mother said, "Go to bed, all of you. Your father and I have to talk about this."

Shadi, ever the Citizen, obeyed instantly, carrying Michael with her, who was almost asleep already. Vanna turned to follow, then hesitated.

"Go on," Roger ordered, not unkindly.

Vanna swallowed and nodded once, then trudged off to bed. Her mind was full of the school, and all the rumours she'd heard about it.

She hoped her parents would let her go.

She wanted to learn.

1000 words