BenPass
Knight of the Consular Order
Knight Commander
Force Alignment: 690
Posts: 6031
Jedi Consular
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« on: February 14, 2014, 02:44:12 AM » |
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Hi everyone, I've been re-working this story a bit, changing the tense around and adding some detail, so I wanted to share it with you all in a single place. Since my other topic is long stale and I had posted in installments, I've deleted the thread and just decided to create a new one. My story is currently longer than the forum allows for in a single post, so I'm making these two posts for you to read. Please enjoy, comment, and feel free to weigh in on the story, theme, or anything else. Thanks as always!
Ben
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Potential. When I was younger, I never thought that I would see the day when it would decide my fate. After all, I had always been of the opinion that a man’s future belonged in his own hands; that each and every person should have a choice in who they were, what they would do, and how they would spend their lives. A man should be free to determine who he would become and who he truly was as a person. Yes, that is how I always thought, but the world’s government did not agree. Oh, we did have certain freedoms, but they were not at all what freedom should have been. In the name of freedom, we all continued with our lives, trusting blindly in the government to take care of us. In reality though, we were bound by the shackles of Potential and a government that had grown powerful by selecting only those with the highest Potential to serve in office.
You see, it was some fifty years before my birth that the government of earth realized that Potential was far more than simply what a person could possibly accomplish because of their drive and dedication. After much testing, they discovered that Potential could be detected within a person’s brain chemistry. With one simple test the government had become able to determine exactly what a man would amount to in life. It was a scary thought. No one should have the power to dictate what path your life will take, but our government had grown certain of its power and determined to do just that.
What made things even worse for us was the fact that every person was required by law to have a Potential test annually. It was conceivable that a person might be worthwhile to the government one year, and useless to them the next. If your Potential levels dipped below a certain point, you would no longer be worthy of being kept alive. Since the cataclysm had so rocked the planet, the Council of Earth reasoned that someone who did not have appropriate Potential levels was not worth the drain they caused on the world’s resources. I suppose that I understood their stance to a certain extent. After all, with the food shortages the planet had been facing, we needed to be sure that everyone was trying their hardest to work, and to ensure that the earth survived for the next generation. Still, whenever my birthday would roll around, I couldn’t help but feel terrified.
My grandfather always told me not to worry, and that my Potential rating was more than ample to keep me safe. Of all people, h would know, having been part of the team that discovered the ability to discern Potential. In fact, his prestige and Potential was one of the primary reasons that my family had a house to ourselves rather than having to share it with other families. When I was younger, most people on earth were crammed into tiny houses, which they shared with a minimum of two other families. That way, the government ensured that its citizens would police themselves. After all, if someone in a family refused to submit to the Potential screening, an entire home could be executed. Such was the law of the land; swift and uncompromising. We were fortunate to have a home to ourselves and a level of privacy. Privacy was never total in our world though; not in an age when the government could enter your home at will simply because they suspected you of breaking one law or another. Still, we lived our lives in more peace than most others did. To be honest, I was unable to imagine spending every day of my life hoping that someone that I shared my home with would betray me to the government or frame me for a crime I didn’t commit.
Speaking again of Potential, my grandfather told me each year that I would amount to great things, and that I had enough Potential to change the world. His eyes would light up whenever he spoke of his “wondrous, life changing discovery”. It was understandable; his discovery was responsible for the continuation of humanity on earth. I sat in my room one cool July night and could only hope that he was right about me and that I could make a difference too. After all, the next day would be my birthday, and the testers would arrive first thing in the morning. Legend told of a day when birthdays were times of celebration rather than fear; of times when family would gather together in joy rather than dreading the results of a test.
I still remember the day when, as a child, I asked my grandfather why the government was so determined to test people’s Potential, and to segregate us by those test results. We were in the park, watching the city’s children line up for their initial Potential readings. Each person went through their first screening when they entered school so that the teachers would know which subjects to focus on. After all, it would have been a waste of time and resources to train a child in one career if they were not suited to it. As the children gathered around the testers, my grandfather knelt down in the dust and brushed away some dust and dirt to reveal a sprig of grass. As the green blade showed through the scorched earth, he said, “My boy, without Potential, the world will die. We need to know who can pull their own weight and work on keeping the Earth alive.” I had nodded like a fool, pretending to understand what he told me. For years though, I was unsure if I would ever fully understand.
Why was Potential so important? I had always thought that each person contributed to a society that worked together, and that each life was like a thread in the ancient tapestries. The government, led by the Council of Earth, did not agree. Everywhere I went in the city, the government’s signs and posters were plastered on every wall. Their slogan, “Potential is Life” seemed to mock the idea that every person, every life was worthwhile. No, my ideas on life are outdated. The world, under our united government, believed that unless you had a high Potential score, you were useless to the world at large and were a drain on resources that could not be allowed to live.
As I sat in my room, considering all those things, and worrying about my test in the morning, my eyes drifted over to my rickety bookcase and one of my mother’s books. It was old and held together with strips of tape. The binding of the tattered, black book was torn to pieces; cracked with age. Any lettering that might have decorated the cover decades before had long since faded away. It was a book that had been outlawed generations before, shortly after the cataclysm, but one which had always remained in our family. I remembered that I had to hide it before the Screeners came in the morning. Regardless of Potential levels, being in possession of forbidden items was a crime punishable by summary execution. My grandfather claimed that the law was not always as strict, but since the world was nearly destroyed, all law breakers were an unnecessary waste of food, air, and space.
I prepared to stuff the ancient tome underneath my bed but something seemed to tell me to open up the book and read it. As I gingerly turned the yellowed, crinkled pages, my eyes were drawn to one particular section which read:
“Even so the body is not made up of one part but of many. Now if the foot should say, ‘Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,’ it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. And if the ear should say, ‘Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,’ it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be.”
I shook my head and thrust the book between my mattress and bedframe. “How strange,” I muttered as I got up and walked over to stand by my window. It was obvious that the book was even older than it looked. It certainly wasn’t written while our government was in power. Such different views! The idea that everyone was part of a body and all meant to work together was blasphemy. The Council of Earth would throw a fit to read such a thing. It was no wonder that my mother always kept the thing hidden away. The true surprise was that my grandfather still had not betrayed his daughter and told the authorities about the forbidden tome. He was eminently loyal to the Council in all other aspects of life and was determined that they knew best in all things. Yet he permitted us to keep that solitary secret.
Even as I stared out the window, not truly focused on anything in particular, worry again filled my heart. What would the Screeners find in the morning? Would my Potential still be high enough to be left in my current lifestyle? Would I be able to keep my job at the atmospheric purification plant or would I be cast aside for someone with greater Potential? What would the morning bring? Working at the plant was certainly not glamorous work, but it made a difference in the world. At least it kept me useful and alive. Mere existence was all anyone could hope for unless they had great enough Potential levels to be brought into government.
A cool wind suddenly blew through my window, carrying with it the stench of the city. Since long before I was ever born, the city carried the stench of death. Most days, you would be able to ignore it, but whenever the south wind would blow, well, let’s just say that it would make your stomach flip. Then again, there were many things in the world that would make you sick to your stomach. In fact, as I stared out my window the night before my birthday, I witnessed one of those gut churning events taking place down in the street. One of the neighbors had a birthday that day, and must not have passed his Potential screening. A chill ran down the length my spine as I watched him run in terror. Following closely on his heels were the Screeners; the division of the government tasked with screening Potential and collecting those citizens whose Potential was not within the acceptable range. I watched with a growing sense of disgust as the men in blue armor overcame their prey and began to jab him with their electro-batons. Once he stopped flailing around, they dragged him into the middle of the street so that there would be room to transport. In a split second, a blinding light appeared in the street, and all three men disappeared, leaving behind nothing save for steam rising from the pavement. Despite the cool night, I wiped sweat from my brow. I couldn’t help but wonder if the scene would repeat the next morning after my test had been completed.
I turned away from the view of the empty street and the bloated, red sun sinking below the skyline, and looked around my room for what felt like the last time. By the morning, it could all be gone. As my gaze drifted over to my books, my most treasured possessions, I couldn’t help but smile. Within their yellowed pages, countless adventures and escapes from my fear existed. For that brief moment, my troubles seemed to disappear. I was at peace until I noticed the picture of my grandfather resting on my dresser. In the picture, he stood in his lab, celebrating the discovery of Potential. Every other day of the year, the picture of his smiling, bearded face was one that made me proud. After all, he helped keep the Earth from dying by discovering Potential. He was responsible for every day that humanity continued to draw breath; we all owed him our lives. That night though, the picture only served to remind me of what might come in the morning.
Eventually, I decided that there was no sense in staying awake and torturing myself any longer. I would have been better served by trying to sleep and determining to let the next day’s worries take care of themselves. The idea was easier said than done though. For hours, I tossed and turned in my bed until my sheets were tangled around my legs, and I was more than frustrated with that elusive gem that is sleep. Thankfully, I eventually managed to drift off into a restless sleep; a sleep full of nightmares of what the morning would bring.
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