The Perfect World

S-I was sitting in his class, the teacher explaining the history of the 7th zone’s darker walls, to minimize particularly common deviance here. His voice was a grey monotone. As S-I caught up to the teacher in his notes, the booming signal of dismissal rang a deep red. Class was dismissed, and S-I sat up from his desk. A classmate, 23-14, was saying something in his voice of harsh, ugly reds and browns.

“Hey S, what’re you doing after school?” 23-14 asked in a voice that was brighter than S-I was expecting.

“Going home to read, as always. Anything else is prohibited,” S-I stated plainly. He then added “Also, 23-14, do not address me as S. 25-13 should be the value by which to refer to me.”

“But you’re the only S in the school, kid. Nobody’s gonna get confused.”

“Nevertheless, using an unauthorized reference value could get us all in trouble.” S-I was, truthfully, taken aback by 23-14’s blatant expression and was surprised he hadn’t been jailed for such dangerous behaviour. He had not talked to him much before and wondered if he was always like this. S-I brushed off some remark from 23-14 about not really caring and headed home.

It is good that he did not really care, he thought, Caring might get him in more trouble. S-I was walking home, looking at the black buildings, and thinking about the lesson on them today. He arrived at his home and was welcomed by his cheerful sister. He cursed her emotionality in his head. If Elise, rather L-E, does not cease such expression before being released into public education, she will be jailed, probably for her whole life with how excitable she is, he thought to himself.

“Seth, you’re home!” She exclaimed in tones of light blue and yellow, smiling, “I thought we could paint with some of Mommy’s supplies?” His sister was holding a brush with blue paint on it.

“Please, refer to me as S-I, sister. And call your mother just that, or refer to her as D-E. Any other prohibited reference values will get you in trouble when you start school,” he stated plainly, as always. “And mother’s ‘supplies’ as you call them are contraband. We should not even have them.”

She looked at S-I with a tear in her eye. His sister took after their mother who has expressive tendencies as well. If he and father didn’t care for them, they would report the both of them and have them jailed. He cursed himself for caring, but he couldn’t help looking back over his shoulder at Elise as he walked to his room.

“I’m sorry Elise… I really am,” Seth said sadly, not intending to let emotion come through his voice. He closed the door behind him and refocused his attention to the bookshelf, trying to decide what subject would be the most beneficial study tonight. S-I opted to study history because he finds the black bricks to be an effective counter-expressive and wanted to learn more about them. After a couple hours of study, S-I hears a knock on the door, recognizing who it is immediately.

“Please dispense with the formalities, mother. Knocking is not a required precaution,” he confidently states. L-E is small, and his father doesn’t knock because knocking on a door implies a need for privacy, which isn’t authorized. Doors are so archaic, anyway. Why do we have them if we are not supposed to hide anything? S-I thought to himself. His mother opens the door, holding some device with buttons and a cord that splits off into two oblong spheres.

“Seth, I know you don’t tolerate expression… but you will want to hear this, or rather, you won’t regret hearing it.” She presented the device to him.

“What is this contraband, mother?” S-I asked, apprehensive. “Is it not dangerous to have all of these things that are prohibited?”

“Dangerous, probably,” she smiled. S-I hated smiling. “But sometimes danger is necessary. You’ll understand one day.”

Seth reluctantly took the device, if nothing else, to get his mother to stop such talk about expression. “Please depart, mother, so that I may complete my studies.”

“Fine. But you give that thing a listen. Just put the audio devices in your ears,” she said, frowning.

His mother left, and S-I commenced his studies, but his thoughts returned to the device. What is its purpose? He wondered. Audio alone doesn’t provide a benefit, and if it’s contraband, it likely has nothing to do with learning. Seth eyed the device. After a moment, he shrugged and returned to his work.

After some time, he decided he should sleep because he shouldn’t go to school tired. He sat on his bed and glanced back at the device. Perhaps it would be better to simply appease mother. He picked up the device and followed his mother’s instructions. He pressed one of the buttons, and the screen lit up displaying names and abstract combinations of words, which seemed to be titles of some expressive thing. The whole concept perturbed S-I, but he pressed the button in the center nonetheless. Noises started to come from the audio devices in his ears, pulses in distinct patterns. The colors were beautiful, shifting from reds, to purples, to yellows, and back to reds. The sound was so vibrant, as to reach deep into Seth’s soul. He wanted to stop… but he couldn’t make himself. It was just so beautiful. He didn’t know how long he had left the audio playing in his ears, switching from distinct sounds every few minutes. Eventually, one of the distinct sounding expressions lulled him to sleep.

He woke up that morning to his mother knocking on the door, which was unusual this early in the morning. The device had turned off overnight. Seth would have to ask his mother how to make it turn back on. Why should I turn it back on? S-I wondered, before tuning in to his mother saying through the door that he was going to oversleep. He looked at the clock on his desk. It was 7 minutes past when wakes himself up. S-I was glad his mother was so punctual. Listening to the horrible, beautiful, expressive audio could have gotten him in trouble in more ways than one.

“I am getting ready,” he told his mother before changing into a clean outfit, the same black uniform as every other uniform he owns, and heading toward school. On the way, Seth wished he could be listening to more of those unauthorized sounds. S-I wished he didn’t enjoy them so much. He wished he could simply ignore his enjoyment. Distracted, he realized he was already outside of school and headed into the classroom with his notebook.

Seth had trouble focusing on the class. He was tired, and he kept hearing those tones repeat in his head. He was snapped back to attention by his teacher’s voice. “25-13, why are you ignoring class? You are usually quite attentive,” the teacher asked in his usual grey monotone, which seemed even more boring than usual. Seth realized he always found it quite boring but didn’t have as much to compare it to.

“I apologize, teacher. I stayed up late studying last night because I found my study beneficial and lost track of time.” It was only half a lie, but it could still get him in serious trouble. “It shall not happen again.”

“Good, we cannot have you becoming a deviant. You are the best in the class, and you will certainly benefit society later in life.”

“I shall not deviate, teacher,” S-I stated, speaking in the correct tone, and phrase. Class proceeded as normal after this with the teacher moving through each subject. S-I sat up from his desk after the red bell tone, and this time he was not interrupted by the expressive classmate. In fact, he was nowhere to be found. Must already be imprisoned. That’s what happens to deviants. They would damage society, so they are taken out of it.

Seth headed home, thinking again of those prohibited noises. S-I cursed himself for desiring to hear them again and tried to stop thinking about them, turning his attention to the black bricks. Were they black just for him? Or did color really make everyone this emotional? He shook off the thought as he approached home. He opened the door and saw Elise painting again.

“Greetings, S-I,” she stated in a monotone, reminiscent of the teacher’s. It sent a chill down his spine, but he didn't know why. L-E didn’t ask him to paint with her this time, probably for the same reason she addressed him as authorized. She didn’t want him to dismiss her like he had yesterday. The thought of what she must be thinking made him sad. S-I couldn’t allow himself to feel sad, so he headed to his room. He got as far as the other side of the common room before his emotions stopped him.

“Elise, do you want me to paint with you?” Seth said, a pang of fear running through him. Why had he asked that, even if he was thinking it? Him thinking like this would get them in trouble.

Elise’s face lit up before returning to a sobered, emotionless appearance. “This is a test. Is it not, S-I? To see if I could suppress my expression in public?” L-E asked, returning to her grey monotone.

“No, Elise, I’m not testing you. Although, that was good, and I'm glad to see you are at least capable of behaving as authorized, even if you don’t think that way…” Seth trailed off, reminding himself of his mother. “I… I want to paint with you.”

“You… want to?” Elise was astonished. S-I had never said he wanted anything. She smiled brightly. Seth smiled back, scaring himself again.

Seth and Elise painted for hours. Seth made an abstract blend of colors waving across the canvas, much like what he saw in the music, while Elise made something she called a “landscape,” saying that their mother had described it to her. After much longer than Seth intended, he noticed the time. “I should go to sleep. I can’t allow myself to be distracted at school again. Good night, Elise.” Seth left the room and headed to his own. On the way, he overhears his parents in the other room.

“You must cease contacting these revolutionaries, especially for acquiring contraband from them.” Seth recognized his father’s voice, the words he was saying terrified Seth. What his mother was doing was as dangerous as he thought. His father continued, “Your deviant tendencies were dangerous before S-I, but now? Now any move you make could destroy this family.”

“I understand that, but Seth deserves to understand himself. He deserves that much.” His mother countered.

“S-I,” his father emphasized the reference value, “needs to believe that the system is best for him. You can let Elise follow in your footsteps, but his Synesthesia, as they called it, means that he is watched very carefully. He cannot be allowed to deviate.”

Seth went into his room, thinking about what he’d heard. His father was right. He was monitored more carefully, as a liability for deviation. He would have to be careful if he was going to be unable to stop enjoying these stupid expressions.

With that decision, Seth was going to be careful. His mother left a note that she had “charged” the device for him, whatever that means, and he went to sleep listening to more sounds. The colors and alignment of the sounds were somewhat overwhelming to him.

Seth woke up on time this morning. He thought that might bode well for the day. The sounds he was listening to last night repeated again. This time they stayed all the way from home to school and were still in his head during class. He enjoyed hearing them, but he wished they weren’t trying to distract him from class.

Near the end of the day, Seth found himself mimicking the sounds for a moment before catching himself. He glanced up from his notes at his teacher, hoping he hadn’t overheard him. What he saw was a face of confusion and astoundment on the teacher’s face. “25-13, what is the purpose of the noise you are making?” the teacher asked, with a less monotone voice.

“I… I had not intended to replicate it. I believe I had heard 23-14 making the noise. It shall not happen again.” Seth tried hard to suppress the emotion in his voice, but he was sure the teacher could tell he was lying.

“‘It shall not happen again?’ That is the second time you have uttered those words in as many days, 25-13…” The teacher paused, “See that it does not, or you will be labelled a deviant.”

“I will. I… I’m sorry” Seth said, before he could stop himself. That was a huge mistake, one he probably couldn’t talk his way out of.

“You are sorry, 25-13? You feel regret?” The teacher sounded almost angry and maybe a bit scared himself. Too much emotion for someone ridiculing an outburst.

“Stay here after class is dismissed, 25-13. We have something to discuss.” The next half hour was excruciating as Seth waited for the bell to ring and his teacher to begin lecturing him, or worse. After what seemed like an eternity, the bell rang red, and the teacher called him forward after dismissing the rest of the students.

“25-13, you must be reported for this. Return to your house to await sentencing.” The teacher had composed himself and was once again speaking his grey monotone.

“That is all? I can’t defend myself?” Seth tried to replicate the monotone voice with only some success.

“That is all, 25-13. You are a high risk individual for deviance. We cannot tolerate a single deviant outburst. You are dismissed.”

Seth left the school, as ordered, and rushed back home much faster than authorized. He wanted to have as much time for his family to figure out what to do as possible. When he got home, the front door was cracked open, and Seth knew something was wrong. As he entered the house, he saw four government officers with guns, and they were about to execute his family.

“What are you doing? How did you get here before me!” Seth was beyond the ability to control himself, shaking intensely.

“We have our ways, 25-13. We should have dealt with you deviants waiting to happen long ago, especially seeing all this contraband,” one of the officers said, gesturing to Elise and Seth’s paintings.

“You’re going to kill us? I thought deviants were jailed!” Seth shouted again, about to start crying.

“That is what citizens are told. It is impressive how naive you all are,” the officer stated with an expected monotone, but it was particularly sickening in this context.

“Not all of us are naive!” Seth’s mother chimed in, but she probably knew she shouldn’t have. “If any of us make it out of this, Seth, this isn’t your fault. It’s mine. And, Elise, both of you, feel what you feel. Think what you think. Progress isn’t worth the cost of your individuality!” Seth’s mother shouted as a bullet was fired into her head. The sight of the blood was enough to break Seth. He froze with no idea what to do. His father made an unexpected emotional outburst, but Seth had known he had to care about them all, or they wouldn’t have been dealing with this. He would have reported Elise and their mother. He shouted and tried to wrestle a weapon from the officer behind him, and Seth watched a bullet go through his father’s back as well.

Elise was weeping uncontrollably. As an officer raised his weapon to execute her as well, weapons were fired from somewhere else nearby, and two of the officers fell to the ground. The chaos that ensued was almost impossible for Seth to track. He could tell the other weapons were held by revolutionaries, but he couldn’t see how many there were.

One of the remaining two officers fell, and the last opted to try to finish the job rather than escape. A bullet was fired through Elise’s back, eliciting a scream of anguish from Seth as he was shot as well. After the sharp pain, Seth saw the officer crumple over. He saw revolutionaries flood into the building, at least five of them. One of them had extremely dark skin, something he hadn't seen before. Who is that? Why does he look so different? Has the government been hiding people because they look different? The thought angered Seth.

The revolutionaries all came to him, trying to stop his bleeding. They must think he’s worse off than Elise, but he didn’t care, “Help her first. I beg you,” Seth said, crying, as he coughed up blood. They seemed to give in to his request, though he couldn’t tell what they said anymore. As what he could hear seemed to fade, any colors he could see from it seemed to die out into the red of blood. His eyes began to close, and he could only think one thing,

Please don't be the last time my eyes are open. And the red faded into black.