Chapter 3 #2
There are about one hundred of us in the freshman class, but I am yet to see anyone who is not an upper elite, at least… I think. I see the reflection of my blazing-brown eyes and my long dark hair. I have a striking gaze and a fearless demeanor, yet I feel like an outsider deep inside me.
My dad turns my way, his verdant green eyes merging with mine, noticing my wandering gaze. He thinks I feel insecure, but the truth is, I am trying to find Levon.
She’s almost pale as snow in winter, always warm as the sun in summer, but I could spot my sister from her scent even if she was a mile away from me. If by any chance, I see her, I can run away, and this will all end right here. But I don’t.
My dad holds my hands and whispers to my ear, “Just remember, you are not defined by how other people see you... It will be okay! A little while, four years will come and pass, and we will see each other again!”
I smile at my dad and hug him goodbye. I hate when he gets emotional in situations like this. It makes me want to cry. And I can’t afford to cry right now, in front of everyone. It would be so embarrassing. I put my arms around my mom, who is still writing emails on her phone.
“Aww, bye, honey,” she says with limited eye contact. I know that is the best I am going to get from her. It is time for us to go our separate ways.
An officer stops them from moving forward as I take a step.
They are cheesing way too hard, in extreme happiness as they wave me goodbye.
To them, I am stepping into heaven. To me, it is hell.
I smile with a brave face. They can never know why I am doing this, or it will jeopardize my entire mission.
No one can know. It is time. There is no turning back.
I walk through the vanishing screened doors. I am now in The Commons.
I am in a gold-plated glass dome, surrounded by a crowd of students, listening to an authority figure with white hair and circular gold glasses as transparent and archaic as her commitment to tradition.
Her name is Doctor Val. Doctor Val is not just the school’s doctor and science head, she is also the secretary of education—yes, in our entire country. Such were the credentials of teachers who taught at The Commons.
Doctor Val speaks eloquently and the crowd listens in complete silence.
“It all began centuries ago,” she says. “The Tragedy of the Commons is a situation in a shared resource system where individual users acting independently according to their own self-interest behave contrary to the common good by depleting resources through their collective action. It was a theory invented in 1833 by William Forster Lloyd. In 1968, Garrett Hardin expanded on this theory.”
I look around surreptitiously to see everyone’s eyes fixated on her like robots, almost in awe.
“Soon after in 2026, Satri DeVeechi became obsessed with this theory, and he was the first person to apply this theory to formal education. He tweaked this theory and developed some new concepts. Thereafter, he wrote a thesis that went viral in academia. Fifty years later, he paired up with the educational genius, Patron De Londe, to create what we all now know as The Commons. Our school exists to ensure that our founders’ vision of a progressive common world is fulfilled, a world that will be regulated for optimal survival.
The Commons creates those who will regulate society.
But first, you students must learn how to be regulated.
The Commons is the past, the present and the future. ”
I stare at her, captivated by her presence, trying to comprehend what she is saying.
“Look around you. No one is elite here. Everyone is common. Here in The Commons, we do not think too much, we do not talk too much, we do not breathe too much. The commodity of life must be preserved for the common good. This is the principal we all must live by in The Commons. Do you all understand?”
“Yes, Doctor Val,” everyone says in unison.
I am reluctant to join in such a proclamation, but I follow suit in a mutter.
My eyes strike hers. The wisdom in them is frightening.
It is as though she can see my thoughts.
I am sure it is all in my head though, because she looks at me with a confused judgment, her forehead wrinkled in analysis. Troubled, I look away.
She continues to speak. “Now, unto how you can practice these principles. First, you will obey every single rule in the manual you will soon be given. Second, you will trust us, that we know you better than you know yourselves. Last, you will pass six tests in the next six weeks. These tests determine your placement here at The Commons. More will be explained by your unit leaders and instructors. Now, all that being said, happy orientation! Follow the signs to your respective commons.”
I take a deep breath, trying to lock the information into my brain. Where to go? At each corner, a unit leader stands with a different flag color. Zavish laughs along with two boys as they walk toward a red flag, like they have just been granted their inheritance.
A petite woman with a rigid face who looks like she is in her late thirties catches my eye.
She has red hair and perfectly lined eyebrows.
She seems like the sort of person who would have a short temper.
She waves a yellow flag with spellbound, robotized devotion.
My eyelashes flutter as I shake off my confusion with her robot likeness, upon realization that this is my hostel leader, Beatrice.
I see my former high school classmate, Zia, who is waving at me, so I walk over to her.
She eyes me with confident camaraderie. “Fancy seeing you here?”
“Yeah, I decided to come after all.” I say it like I just landed here and didn’t almost die to get in.
“Why?” Her steel blue eyes sweep over me, suspicious?
“Just so I can keep you out of trouble.”
She shoves me slightly, and I smile. I look at her, and my mouth opens to speak, but Beatrice’s voice interrupts my train of thought. We instantly move our heads toward the direction of her screeching, train-like voice.
“Commoners, please follow me!”
We follow her to an interconnected white web of stairs and buildings, then through a long, descending spiral staircase illuminated by golden lights.
“There are six zones or wings in The Commons. We are in the O Zone layer. This is where you Oratory majors—communication, speech therapy and public relations experts—have your classes. Six of the twelve libraries in The Commons are also in this layer alone.”
She leads us into one of The Commons libraries.
I look around to see a vast library with a conglomerate of shelves stacked so close together that each shelf is indistinguishable from the others.
There are thousands of books lit by colorful golden lights in over a hundred languages, and not one is in English.
Why is this? I have no clue. I guess The Commons wants us to struggle before we find a book in this giant, incomprehensible jigsaw puzzle.
I actually love libraries, but I know Levon doesn’t. She certainly won’t be here.
“Everyone, that’s the library you’re allowed to be in as first-year students, let’s continue.
” Beatrice directs us into a white hallway with white boxes of lights appearing in a chronological pattern.
We stare in awe at how beautiful it looks.
I assume the lights are sensors, to track everyone who comes through.
Next, we enter a seemingly endless bedroom with glass walls. My eyes blink in enchantment as I look past Beatrice and through the transparent walls, lost in the scenic city views of rippling water under clear blue skies. I am already immersed in the culture of this place, and it is only day one.
“Here are your manuals!” Beatrice hands me a personalized binder with my name inscribed in golden ink, and for the first time, she speaks in a soft voice.
“These manuals contain the seventy-four fundamental rules you need to memorize. These rules must be memorized in a month. Treat these rules as you would your best friend. They were created for your pleasure and safety and if you follow them, you will be able to enjoy all that The Commons has to offer.”
I open my manual and take a quick glance at the plethora of rules.
My lower teeth bite my upper lip, holding my tongue from questioning every single rule!
But I start to feel something in the way she talks to us.
Like everything is meant for us. Like we are the chosen ones.
It causes me to feel invested, falling in love with The Commons, while being controlled by it at the same time—like an abusive relationship, and I am not sure which one of us is using the other.
Beatrice proceeds to walk through a transparent curtain. We follow her as she continues to talk like a passion-infused tour guide. “You will be sharing these spaces, five in each room separated by the glass demarcations.”
I look around the large room with different stations. Each station is separated by a different color, and there are about five stations in the room. At each station, there is a fuzzy gray seat and a queen size bed.
She begins to list all seventy-four rules like a broken record.
“No looking a Patron in the eye. No talking to or asking Patrons questions outside of class. You can only make phone calls once a month in the phone booth. No talking about The Commons while on the phone. No romantic relationships with a Patron if you are not one, except if claimed in the 6C Hallway. If you disobey any of these rules, you will be sent to the dark dome.” Beatrice holds up another manual binder, which I’m sure is filled with more rules, curfews, bedtime and other schedules.
“This contains the most important information you’ll need. ” Blah blah blah blah…