The Crane Locket

The children were not permitted to wear them. Only when their minds had set would they join the Conscience. Teenagers sought knock-off Lockets, sneaking them from a black market and wearing them when adults weren’t around. No one explains what the Lockets are, what they do—no one can—so they are just part of the landscape of adulthood, a privilege to covet, a marker of coming of age.

Junii planned to get her first Locket on her 25th birthday, the legal age when citizens might apply for one. Most everyone headed to the DMV as soon as possible when eligible. Although not all were eligible. There were tests, basic cognitive, emotional, even physical exams, though none were reputed to be difficult. Just a hoop to jump through to get a Locket. Trade in the driver’s license, get a Locket. There was a little catalog with colors and shapes, but the blue titanium chain was mandatory. Junii decided years ago that she wanted the Locket shaped like a traditional folded-paper crane from a society swallowed by the ocean after the earthquakes, tsunamis, landslides, volcanoes became too much. The crane figure opened along what would be the line of the bird’s back, but Junii had never known was inside. The crane came in the same blue titanium as the chain or in a Tungsten steel swirled black. She knew she’d tire quickly of the novelty of a zebra-striped crane. The simple blue would work for the five years she had to wear it before permitted an upgrade.

The birthday finally dawned. Even the light seemed different. Junii did not even know what the initiation into the privilege of the Conscience would be like. People go into their local center, take the tests, and come out, looking the same, except for a shiny new Locket resting in the hollow between their collarbones. It was easy to tell who had just received their first Locket because they fingered it constantly, unconsciously, stroking the smooth metal that came in all shades and shapes. Silver eggs. Green obelisks. Black and yellow whales. Blue phoenixes and dragons. She had seen a few people with the origami crane she wanted. She was excited and imagined how the Locket would feel on her skin. She had never even been able to try one on because people never took them off, not even when they were sleeping. She had slipped into her parents’ room at night to see if they had left it on a shelf near their bed—she just wanted to see how heavy it was, what it looked like against her own skin. As a small child, sitting in her father’s lap, she reached for his Locket, shaped like a heart in onyx-colored steel. It opened was between the two swells at the top. She was always drawn to rub her finger along that gleaming crevice. She remembered his Locket as very heavy though she could not remember ever holding it in her hand. She tried once to lift it from her father’s throat, admiration surging through her when she realized he was strong enough to wear around his neck something she could not even lift. He had removed her hands with a stern look. She knew that touching his Locket was taboo. Her mother often pressed her fingers gently against the hollow in Junii’s throat to comfort her, caressing the rise of bone along both sides. Sometimes she would finger her own Locket at the same time, her small fingertip tracing the twin blue swells around to the softly angled point.

“Why does it open, Mama? What is in there? Can you open it?” Junii asked years ago when she was recovering from a novel virus that had swept the country and her mother had spent hours caressing her chest to ease the pain in her lungs.

It is not for children to know, darling. Children must grow and learn and explore and discover.

Junii went through the door to claim her Locket after passing the (easy) Conscience tests and relinquishing her license. She had preordered the blue crane, afraid it would be out of stock if she waited until the day of her tests. Now there was only to fit the titanium chain to her throat exactly so the Charm would rest perfectly in the hollow of her throat. There was a spark behind her head as the ends of the chain were welded together. The assistant gently laid the crane against her skin. It did not feel so heavy! Then, a pinch. The Locket began to press into her skin, the edge of a wing poking against her collarbone. She cringed as the pinch started to burn. She lifted her hand to her chest, rubbing the skin back and forth as if to tug it out from under the Locket, involuntary tears sliding from the edges of her eyes and dripping into the burning hollow

Her mind went blank. A sensation of cold rushed through her head. The burning had stopped and all she felt was a steady pressure against her chest. Her breath was shallow but the air flowing through her mouth and nose felt as cold as ice. She remained still because at least it was a steady, predictable feeling. And because she did not know what to think. Could she think? She still felt like herself, the warm familiarity of her body, the way her teeth fit together, the feeling of her fingertips against her palms. This went on for what seemed like a long time, the steady pressure, the cold, the sense she existed but in a timeless, meaningless void.

The cold began to abate and the burning started anew. Her mind began to fill with memories. Not her memories, but memories from every time and place and thousands of nameless faces that now seemed to be her own. They came in bursts, like spurts, as if someone was testing capacity before increasing speed. She watched as if countless films were at once, her attention darting manically among the cacophony. Then the memories began to coalesce into coherence, united by some kind of overarching thread. Then thoughts began to flow in, all in different voices and pitches and timbres. Her ears felt like they were darting, her attention flitting between the utterances and exclamations. Then they, too, coalesced into a single voice, weaving around the streaming memories. Yet, Junii could not hone in on any single memory or thought that she could claim as her own. Everything in her mind’s eye was both familiar and hers. She pushed at the Locket a little but it did not move.

“You are Conscience now,” a voice near her ear said. “Be blessed.”

Junii stepped out of the plate glass door, her fingertips rubbing the point of the smooth, blue beak of her Locket.