Robinson Crusoe 2244 Read online

  Vareen lifted his chin. “You’re too young to worry about such things. In two days’ time, I will dress you in your finest and load you into your carriage for the Crown. And there, you will hear your name spoken in front of the entire One People. And I will watch you on the Feed as I did your father, and I will cry because you will no longer be the boy I have held and loved and watched grow. You will be a man—an apprentice to your father. And maybe then we can set about finding you a wife.”

  She saw him smile oddly. “Or have you found one already?”

  “There is no one,” he said, frustrated by his transparency.

  She clucked. “You have always been a terrible liar. At least with me. Now come. We must clean you up. You’re already late for school.”

  He looked at the clock on the wall. “I have plenty of time. The carriage trip only takes a quarter turn.”

  “Your father took the carriage a while ago. You’ll need to go in on foot.”

  Panic immediately swelled in Robinson’s chest. He quickly ran for the door. Vareen yelled at him. He needed a bath, but before she knew it, he was halfway down the road. He’d already enraged one of the two men he feared most in this world.

  He was about to face the other.

  Chapter Three

  Crimes and Punishment

  The Academnia had been one of the first buildings built after the Wall had gone up, so no one could have foreseen the area around it going so quickly to seed. But the irrigation to the communal fields had been improperly engineered and the result was constant flooding to the streets surrounding the school.

  Over time, the underclass had built a beehive of stacked domiciles and shanties to live in, but they were often flooded, earning those citizens who lived there the slur, “Muckbacks.” Robinson had never used the word himself. After all, his best friend was one of those citizens, but few children of Tiers gave them the same courtesy, as evidenced by the scrawl over the bathrooms that read, “Nobes only, no Mucks allowed.”

  When Robinson arrived at his classroom, he found the door locked. It wasn’t a surprise. Taskmaster Satu was as strict about punctuality as he was about everything else. Through the window, he saw the class rigid and attentive as always. His only relief came when he spotted Slink inside. He had successfully managed to escape the tower, though Robinson was sure he bore some guilt over leaving his friend behind.

  Robinson took a deep breath and knocked. The door opened slowly.

  Taskmaster Satu wore his usual burgundy robe, fringed with gold leaf brocade around the neck that designated him as Taskmaster Overseer of New London. His hair and beard were both long and grey, but it was his penetrating eyes that had weakened the knees of generations of students and sent many from the rural Regens scrambling back to the safety of their homes.

  “Citizen Crusoe,” he enunciated with relish. “You are late. You know the penalty for tardiness in my class. You will return tomorrow with a five-thousand-word essay enumerating the myriad ways in which you have hindered my teachings over the years. This, you shall read for the amusement of your fellow students and myself. Good day.”

  He slammed the door in Robinson’s face. He knocked again.

  When the door opened this time, Taskmaster Satu’s nostrils were flaring. In his hand was a long, slender riding crop made of yew that extended from a worn handle, down a narrow shaft, to a leather tongue keeper that was cracked with age and overuse. It was an implement Robinson was very familiar with.

  “My apologies, Taskmaster, but there is no school tomorrow. Today’s our final day.”

  His teacher feigned surprised. “Is it now? How foolish of me to assume that I, your teacher, might have some say in the fulfillment of your academic obligations. By all means, come in! Come in, so you might inform all my charges of their fate as well.”

  As he entered, Slink rolled his eyes and most every other student frowned with irritation. Only Jaras Saah, seated in the back, wore a perverse smile.

  Robinson was about to head for his seat when the crop barred his path.

  “Before you take your seat, there is some business we must attend to, yes?”

  He knew what was coming. “Yes, Taskmaster.”

  “You have willfully interrupted my class. I will have an explanation.”

  Robinson knew he’d have no problem fabricating an excuse, but Taskmaster Satu would then have the right to vet that excuse, which, given this was the last day of school and how such an act could further cement his reputation, was not beyond him. If a student was caught in a lie, he could be brought up on charges in front of the Tier of Civil Obedience, which was a grave thing. He could easily tell some smaller lie, something Slink could corroborate, but if the Red Guard did indeed file a report, then Slink too would be disciplined, and his punishment would be far worse. Robinson had only one option.

  “I have no excuse, Taskmaster. My tardiness is no one’s fault but my own. I apologize to you, my fellow classmates, and all the citizens of the One People.”

  His disappointment was evident. He’d clearly been itching for a confrontation. “Your sentence is two lashes. To be exercised”—he brought the crop down with a snap that made most in the room jump—“immediately.”

  Robinson swallowed and began rolling up his sleeves.

  “Unless, you think it unnecessary.”

  “Taskmaster?”

  “As you say, citizen, this is the final day of your education, which would imply there is nothing more I can teach you. If that is indeed the case, then your tardiness is inconsequential. You have learned all that you need to move into the world and rightly take your place as your father’s apprentice. Is that how you see it?”

  Robinson knew he was being baited, but he had no intention of giving him what he wanted. “I doubt there will ever be a day that you couldn’t teach me something, Taskmaster.”

  “Well said. Very diplomatic. But I’m not speaking in riddles. There is no subterfuge on my part. You have always been one of my brightest students. Or am I mistaken?”

  The students shuffled, eager to see where this was going. Robinson felt a flare of anger. He’d already had a tough morning and didn’t deserve to be singled out like this for being a quarter of a turn late, so he ignored Slink’s subtle shake of his head.

  “No,” he said finally, “you’re not.”

  “Excellent! So, theoretically, I could pose to you any question and you should be able to answer it.”

  “Theoretically. If the question was based on the curriculum taught to us here, under this roof.”

  “Or on things I am sure you have knowledge of?” he asked.

  “A difficult concept to verify since no one knows my mind but myself.”

  “An excellent point! Let’s find out. Shall we say six questions?”

  He still wasn’t certain he wanted to do this, but the idea of beating Taskmaster Satu at his own game was too much to turn down.

  “Six is fair. But what happens if I answer one incorrectly?”

  “Then, as the ancients used to say, the punishment should fit the crime.”

  “I’ll be kept an extra quarter turn after class?”

  The class tittered nervously. Taskmaster Satu grinned.

  “No. You will receive a lash for every question posed.”

  Six lashes! By the Spires, Robinson had never taken more than three and had never heard of anyone taking more than four. As tempting as it was, he had doubts he could bear the pain of six lashes, much less the unending humiliation that would accompany it.

  “I think I’ll take my two lashes and move on, Ser. After all, I was late and that punishment more than fits the crime.”

  “Pity,” his teacher said. “Though I’m not surprised. Over the years, I’ve made similar offers to a handful of students and all but one declined.”

  “Then he is a better man than me.”

  “Of that, there is little doubt. Even less since he was a she.”

  “Forgive my assumption. I’m sure she was a
remarkable student.”

  “A remarkable citizen,” he corrected. “She too refused the challenge at first, but if memory serves, she came up with an interesting counterproposal.”

  “Which was?”

  “That her fellow students be allowed to pose the questions. Ironic that you did not think to do the same.”

  “I admit it’s clever, but how is it ironic?”

  “Because the woman in question was your mother.”

  The blood instantly ran from Robinson’s face as a buzz moved through the room. Taskmaster Satu’s eyes never wavered.

  “And to answer your next question, yes. She replied correctly to all six queries. As I said, she was a remarkable citizen, an exemplary student, the best I’ve ever taught, which is why you, her son, are such a disappointment. But to quote the ancients once more, ‘Virtue is not hereditary.’”

  “Thomas Paine,” Robinson said, immediately. “I’ll consider that the first question, Taskmaster. Pick your students.”

  Chapter Four

  Entrapment

  “You heard the rules, citizens. Common knowledge of things Ser Crusoe should know. Let’s start you off with an easy one, shall we? Citizen Grey.”

  Slink’s head bolted up in surprise. “Taskmaster?”

  “Any question will do,” he said.

  Slink looked confused and then asked one of the most basic things he knew. “What are the names of the five continents?”

  Taskmaster Satu made a “tsking” sound and rolled his eyes.

  “Europa, A’tacia, Afranzique, New Zaustria, and NuGee.”

  “NuGee is a colloquialism and not a particularly inventive one,” Taskmaster Satu said with a sigh. “Can you give me the fifth continent’s proper name or shall I declare this contest over before it’s even begun?”

  “New Glacia, Ser,” Robinson said, and out of spite, he added, “Once called Antarctica.”

  Many in the class looked confused. Taskmaster Satu nodded but leaned close to him. “Careful, boy. Some names are forbidden for a reason.”

  He next called the very pedantic Aris Green, who deliberated carefully.

  “Name the capital cities of the eight Regens and their primary export.”

  Another easy one.

  “Regen 1, North Hub, textiles. Regen 2, the Sunderlands or ‘Twin Rivers,’ fresh water fish. Regen 3, Lake Stone Grize, lumber. Regen 4, South Hub, livestock. Regen 5, Dragoon, minerals and metals. Regen 6, Shir’ton, grains. Regen 7, Vento, agriculture. And Regen 8, New London, attractive people.” The class giggled even as Taskmaster Satu frowned. “And leadership, of course.”

  Taskmaster Satu nodded toward Bevin Vig, who stood with a flip of her curly hair. “Name the three divisions of Academnia and the five subcategories of each.”

  Robinson yawned. “Of the General Approved Disciplines, there is Mathematics, Human Science, Language, Civil Obedience, and Labor. Of the Advanced Disciplines, there is Medicine, Physics, Selective Defense Training, Lineage and Childbearing, and Communications. Of the Forbidden Disciplines, there is History, Engineering, Literature and the Arts, Chemical Biology, and Ideo-Religious Studies.”

  Flora Sunchild, a daft girl from Regen 1, raised her hand eagerly.

  “What are the Eight Laws of the One People?”

  Robinson looked to his teacher as if to say, “This is the best you have to offer?”

  “In the winter of the Great Rendering and the fall of man, We, the One People, do pledge this oath: that never again, by cause or deed, shall we affect harm or injury to man or beast, earth or sky, ocean or—” he recited.

  “Citizen Crusoe,” Taskmaster Satu interrupted. “Your talent for memorization, while no doubt impressive to your fellow students, bores me. For brevity’s sake, summarize please.”

  “Of course. The First Law stands on equality. Each of us is a uniform piece of the larger whole. No man, be he farmer or Regent, is above the other in the eyes of us all.”

  Robinson almost gagged saying it.

  “The Second Law condemns all written works, since knowledge and history is authored by the corruptible. This is why Taskmasters like yourself do not teach from books but from memory, and why our papers are burned at the end of each year. From mouth to ear, thus knowledge is passed, from parent to child, from first to last.”

  “You segue to the Third Law well,” Taskmaster Satu said.

  “Thank you. The Third Law tells us that every skill and trade must be passed from parent to child to ensure both purity and dedication of the craft.”

  “And do you like flying, Ser Crusoe?” Taskmaster Satu asked innocently.

  Robinson smirked. “As I am yet an apprentice, Taskmaster, it is illegal for me to participate in my father’s trade, but when I find out, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “How considerate of you.”

  He continued, “The Fourth Law centers on the Wall or what happens on this side of it. As populous dissemination once led to global strife, we stay sequestered within the realm of our Eight Regens and Isle Prime. In this, we maintain our peace, health, and security from now until the end.”

  “The end of what?”

  “Whatever end we face.”

  “But the Eight ensure the One People will live forever. Or do you not believe in the Law?”

  “I meant until our individual ends, Taskmaster. We all die. Is it not an expirable offense to suggest otherwise?”

  Taskmaster Satu nodded in appreciation. “Continue.”

  “The Fifth Law is the condemnation of violence. It ensures that any hand raised by one Citizen against another shall pay the ultimate price.”

  Robinson looked to Jaras Saah as he said it and watched him sneer.

  “Continue.”

  “The Sixth Law regulates the use of music and dance, as endorsed by the Council of Tiers. At no time, however, may music incorporate vocalizations or may dance adopt a provocative tone given their inherently corruptible natures.”

  “Your own song and dance is coming to an end and we are all thankful for it.”

  “The Seventh Law outlaws the practice of ideology and religion, since they are the reasons most often blamed for the Great Rendering and the fall of man.”

  “As if man’s nature should share no culpability,” Taskmaster said, seemingly to himself. “And the last. The Eighth Law?”

  “The Eighth Law denounces technology and all of its pervasive forms.”

  “For invention is the lowest form of magic. It is easier to take a thousand lives with a button than a single one with a blade. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Robinson said honestly.

  “Hmm. I had heard somewhere that you enjoy to tinker.”

  “Only when the Feed in my room is acting up, Taskmaster.”

  Robinson’s point was obvious. How can we claim to honor the Eight when things like electricity, flyers, and the Feed were being used more and more?

  “Citizen Crusoe has answered five questions successfully, albeit it softballs, every one.”

  “Softballs?” someone asked.

  Taskmaster Satu waved her off. “Does anyone have a question that might challenge this truant fellow?”

  Several hands went up, but none of them gave Robinson any worry. It was only when Jaras Saah’s hand went up that a nagging doubt pricked at him.

  “Citizen Saah.”

  Jaras stood. He was the tallest boy in the class, behind Slink, but despite his proper attire and handsome looks, his veins pumped only cruel blood.

  “How many beds are there in the gaoler’s cell of the Tower Keep?”

  And in that instant, Robinson’s heart ceased to beat.

  Chapter Five

  A White Dress

  He’d been ambushed.

  Jaras knew Robinson had been caught scaling the Tower Keep that morning and had shared the news with Taskmaster Satu. If he admitted to the act, he would be forced to go before the Tier of Civil Obedience, Tessa and Jaras’s father. If he lied and
was exposed, his punishment would be much worse. He gave the only answer he could.

  “I’m afraid I can’t answer the question,” he muttered.

  “Do you mean to say you don’t know how many beds are in the Tower Keep?”

  “I just can’t answer the question.”

  “That is unfortunate,” Taskmaster Satu said before calling Robinson to the front of the room.

  He tried not to let his knees shake as he peeled back his shirt cuffs again and exposed forearms that were white and toneless.

  “Citizen Crusoe, the punishment for your transgressions is six lashes. Do you have anything to say?”

  Robinson swallowed but shook his head. In the back, Jaras grinned.

  Taskmaster Satu raised the whip high and brought it down hard against Robinson’s naked flesh. The sound was enough to make most students wince.

  Crack!

  With the second whip, two angry red welts ballooned on Robinson’s arms and sweat tickled his scalp.

  Crack!

  The pain was so intense that even the simple act of curling his fingers sent needles shooting throughout his body. A tear coursed down his cheek.

  Crack!

  When the fourth strike buckled his knees, many students looked away. The fifth drew sobs. Robinson would not look away. Eventually, he locked eyes with Slink. A single nod was enough to buoy his spirits. He could cry no more.

  “Are we done?” Robinson asked after the final lash, his voice oddly steady.

  Taskmaster Satu nodded minutely.

  For the rest of the class, Robinson sat in silence. When the final bell rang, the pall immediately dispersed and chatter erupted as students spilled from the room.

  “Citizen Crusoe,” Taskmaster Satu called, “a moment please.”

  Jaras Saah paused, but eventually filed out too. Slink was the last to go.

  “Do you know what your problem is, Crusoe?” His voice was weary. “Your problem is that you spend every waking moment trying to be clever. Ignorance is a terrible misfortune, but cleverness without wisdom is a far greater evil.”