I winced at the sound of the bell, as it resonated throughout the street below. Outside my window, I saw people looking up toward the droning chime.
It was time again.
For a few months there, somehow the dread of reality had disappeared. I almost let myself forget. As always, it was inevitable. I would remember, the weight of it crushing me.
I got up and struggled to put on my jacket, my hands were shaking. I should have been numb to it by now. I no longer had a family and in a way, that helped. I started to make my way to the square.
I was lucky to live in the center of town; those on the further reaches had to make the commute every year. I was also lucky that I had inherited a large sum and was able to afford anything I could ever need, and finally, I was lucky that I didn’t live on the edges of the city where they had to guard the walls.
But to be honest, I didn’t feel lucky, at times I felt nothing at all. How could I when it seemed like no one here even cared? Did they fully understand what it was that happened every year?
I remembered conversations with old friends I distanced myself from. I thought maybe they were putting on an act in the same way I had, and decided I would ask one of them what he really thought. About what had happened to him, and to me, and well, to them…
“I haven’t thought about it since the day. Not a single one,” he said, his disdain clear in his expression.”Not even one?” I said, hiding my horror.
“There’s a reason it happened. It was meant to happen, and there’s a reason that it’s us talking and what happened happened and that’s it.” he said bitterly, his arms crossed.
For both of us, it was hard to even say what it was that ‘had happened’. I tried as much as I could to push it from my mind, but for him, it seemed even the memories disgusted him. Did he really mean it? We had both been adjacent to The Process repeatedly.
For me, it always felt life-altering. I would never come to terms with it. I tried to ask others as subtly as I could, careful not to reveal my objection. Still, all I could ever read from their faces was that same hardened hate. Were they all just better liars?
Every time it happened, I had to act just as callous and jaded, but part of me always thought they could see through the facade. I flinched at a recollection of my words…
“I have no idea, and if I did, I would want nothing to do with whatever that vile ‘thing’ is.” I looked away in feigned revolt, scared to see a reaction. The others laughed and cheered. One of the older men patted me on the back.
“Good man” he said.
Those who were close to The Process many times became somewhat known. People regarded it like a badge of honor.
‘There’s a reason he’s been so close and unaffected!’
I hated it, but could never show it; I just played along.
I reached the large open square. I looked to the ominous, dull blue sky above, and watched as steam rose through the icy cold air as I breathed. A crowd had formed around the center where an ornate stage had been built. Those around were giddy with excitement.
I saw a family on my right huddled together, smiling. To my left, two young men that I had recognized from around town. They were laughing together, one was crouched over in hilarity, his arm resting on his brother’s shoulder.
I felt an overwhelming pang but smothered it inside me.
A pleasant aroma of baked goods wafted through the air, and a small, cheery woman offered me a cup of apple cider. I forced a smile and placed a coin into her palm, thanking her. I started to feel that creeping anxiety well up, and the horns began to play.
Everyone around me cheered. The snare drums rolled to a crescendo and the cymbals clashed. The mayor walked on stage and people applauded. How could he stand there, thinking he was dignified, that there was any honor in this?
He began to speak. “Greetings, everyone. It is that time of year again, today is the day that marks the perpetual cycle.” The crowd around me began to applaud proudly. A woman nearby wiped her eyes, apparently moved by the words to tears.
“The Process is inevitable. It is how we honor our way of life. Of course, this tradition, but it is so much more. But there is no more time for words. Now we take action… The Process begins.” He walked over to the tablet enshrined behind him and waved his hand over it.
Suddenly, the holographic text projected above him began to switch rapidly. The crowd was silent. Although the chances were next to nothing for someone who had been close to The Process so many times already, I was petrified.
Suddenly, a loud chime rang out. A name had been chosen. Relief.
“No!” cried a desperate wail, some people gasped. It was from one of the blonde twins. His brother, who was resting his arm on his shoulder, ripped it away. His face was full of disgust as he spat on the one he was standing with a moment before.
“Brother, please!” he cried.
“I DO NOT KNOW YOU!” his twin proclaimed loudly.
People began to back away from the young man, eyeing him with scorn. One of the women nearby started to gag, apparently at the sight of him. Several walked over to him and lifted him up, he did not resist. He was nearly limp.
“FATHER, MOTHER, HELP ME!”
They stood expressionless, without showing a single sign of acknowledgement.
The mayor spoke. “Today, The Process has decided. This man is no longer one of us! He is a scourge to us! He is a burden! He will no longer reside with us!” The crowd made fervent sounds of agreement.”HE IS HATED!” the mayor said with fervor, everyone shouted angrily.
“AND FOR THIS, HE WILL BE SENT TO THE OUTSKIRTS! NOT TO RETURN!” he slammed a gavel on the podium and the crowd went wild.
They hurled obscenities and profanities at the man as they stripped him of his garb and placed a sackcloth on him. Then they carried him off. I had no idea what awaited him outside the city walls, but as far as was known, it was a savage wilderness.
Sometimes I dreamed that there were people out there. That my family had been rescued and taken to safety. It was a pipe dream, no one survived the wild. Weeks before my brother was expelled he said there were rumors. Rumors of hundreds and hundreds of cities, just like ours. The thought alone was treason…
The newly elected pariah had been banished and the crowd was now celebrating joyfully. The band played a merry fanfare. People gathered around the remaining brother commending him. It was all too familiar.
I turned and left the crowd, my civic duty finished.
The Process had been completed.