Tonight, I will hear The Truth for the first time.
I’m sitting with Ren on one of the salvaged timber benches overlooking the outdoor stage, waiting for a final glimpse of Albany Reese. Corvus, my pet crow, perches on my lap, pulling at the shiny buttons on the cuffs of my jacket with his beak.
‘Where is he, Merel?’ Ren asks, leaning across to get a better view.
‘I don’t know.’ It must be awful for Albany, knowing that this is his last night as Voice of the Child. In a few days, he will be sent off alone in a tiny boat onto the ocean, never to return. Tomorrow a new Voice will be chosen, and Albany will become part of the Histories.
The Fire blazes behind the stage, casting a golden light over the gathering. It crackles, sending streams of sparks into the air, and bringing the familiar smoky smell of Littleton evenings. The smoke will drift all the way up to the woven Covers which are almost invisible above us in the dark sky. During the day the Covers block out most of the damaging sunshine so it never reaches us. They keep the Earth cool, but they also keep us in perpetual twilight. That’s how it has been ever since the Climate Crisis.
Ren edges closer to me. ‘Are you ready for The Truth?’
My heart skips as I feel the warmth of his arm next to mine. ‘Yeah. I think so.’ I’ve heard so much about this story. It is the last in the traditional series of eight told by the Voice of the Child, and for some reason I feel nervous for Albany tonight. There’s a strange atmosphere of anxious anticipation, a tension that I haven’t felt before at the Fire.
I scan the crowd, looking for familiar faces in the sea of shadows stretching down to the stage. I spot Ren’s mum, Carolynne, a few rows from the front. ‘Look! Your mum’s here.’
A frown flickers across Ren’s face. ‘I thought she said she wasn’t coming.’
She must have come straight from work because she is still wearing her dark-blue overalls from the printing shop. She sits next to Luka’s mother, Ivy, and they lean in to talk to each other, then glance at the stage. According to Ren, those two have been lifelong friends ever since they started school together years ago.
‘Are Albany’s family here?’ I search the heads in front of us.
Ren leans the other way. ‘I’m not sure. I can’t see them. You’d think they’d want to be here for his final Fire.’
My own parents chose not to come this evening. They said it is too hard seeing the Voice at their last Fire. My little brother Bexley was desperate to come but Mum said he had to go to the rehearsal at school to practice the songs for tomorrow’s send-off instead. He is too young to be here in any case.
Further along the row from Ren’s mum I find Kellee Burke. As soon as I see her, I shrink into my seat, feeling vulnerable. I am already late with last week’s report from the Trees, and she’ll soon be asking me for yet more data. She’ll want this week’s sparrowling counts as well as last week’s, and I haven’t even started on that. I have no idea how I am supposed to get all my work done. Every week I spend hours collating data and writing reports but it never seems to be enough. It’s no wonder Mum and Dad are always so busy – their workload is at least twice mine.
Kellee probably won’t be able to see me from there, but I still hope she doesn’t look round, just in case.
Ren shuffles forward. His hair flops over one eye and he tucks it out of the way before pointing to a group close to the stage. ‘Look, there’s Simeon Hayes.’
‘Where?’ I lean forward, trying to see, and Corvus hops onto the bench next to me seeming indignant at having to move. I spot Simeon amongst a cluster of people huddled together at the front. I can’t see his face from here, but it is obviously him standing head and shoulders above the others, there is nobody else who is quite that tall. The others all have their hoods pulled over their heads as if to hide their identities, so it is impossible to tell who they are from here. As far as I can see, they are just hooded shadows.
The group turns to walk to the right side of the stage, and I recognise some of them as the light from the Fire catches their faces. ‘I didn’t think Dylan Beadlescomb was part of that crowd.’
‘His Mum is a Dockhand, isn’t she?’ Ren stares at the group, obviously still trying to figure out who they all are.
‘Yeah. Do you remember those shocking stories he used to bring to school about the Main Island?’ I can vividly remember the pictures of children with ribs sticking out and distended bellies from lack of vitamins. Things might be bad here but it is nothing compared to what the Main Islanders have to deal with. At least we have enough to eat. Most of the time.
‘Kristal Jefkins, Zuri Peters, Dylan, and two others. I wish I could recognise them. Is that Finlee Swindells?’ Ren watches the group shuffling into place in the semi-dark. ‘I really hope they’re not going to make things difficult for Albany.’
‘I’d be surprised if they dared, especially with Simeon being the Mayor’s nephew. He should know the rules better than anyone.’
Ren frowns. ‘The Mayor isn’t here tonight. He isn’t allowed to attend the final Fire, so who knows what might happen.’
‘Surely not even Simeon would get away with stirring things up. They will get into trouble. They will all end up working in the roach-house if they are not careful.’
‘Not if he’s here on the Mayor’s behalf,’ Ren mutters anxiously.
‘That’s not allowed, is it?’
Ren shrugs. ‘It’s within the rules, but you’re right, it doesn’t seem fair.’
A man with greying hair slides onto the bench on the other side of me and sits closer than I would like. The earthy smell of the mushroom-house wafts from his skin and tickles my nose. It reminds me of the gardening classes we had at school, back when Fion, Emer and I were best friends. I hardly see them these days, now we are all busy working. The man is followed by his wife. I recognise her as one of the Librarians, but I can’t remember her name. She is wearing a knitted scarf held together with a shiny broach that catches the light of the Fire.
I give Corvus a gentle squeeze and shuffle him back onto my lap. ‘Sit still, buddy.’ Given half a chance he would be pecking at that broach and trying to take it home to add to his collection of shiny things.
The man nods a hello, and I smile back. The two of them fidget, getting settled in their seats, then the gong sounds, signalling the evening is about to begin.
There is a tense hush as we wait for what’s about to happen next. I lean forward, my shoulders tight. The Fire isn’t usually like this.
The gong sounds again.
Albany Reese strides onto the stage.
The grey robe that marks Albany as the Voice of the Child pulls tight against his broad shoulders, and he grips the carved, wooden ceremonial staff in his left hand. His short brown hair sprouts up at odd angles, with the light from the Fire making his hollow cheekbones stand out. He is flanked by his Mentors – the two people who have provided guidance to him for the last seven years. One chosen by himself – his uncle Gordon Reese, and one chosen by the Mayor – Councillor Bethany Fields.
Tonight, both Mentors are steely faced with their arms folded across their chests. It will be their job to take Albany away after the Fire and prepare him for his send-off.
Albany stops in the middle of the wooden stage. He breathes in, then bangs the staff twice on the floor. The thuds echo around the hills.
‘He doesn’t have to do this, you know,’ Ren whispers.
Albany bangs the staff again.
‘My name is Albany Reese.’ His voice rings out over the audience. ‘I am the Voice of the Child. Hear what I have to say.’
Silence settles on the gathering. The hooded group to the right of the stage fidgets expectantly.
‘I have told you the Seven Stories.’ Albany’s voice commands everyone’s attention. ‘The Flood, The Extinction. The Crisis, The Rebellion, The Diseases, The Wars, and finally The Darkness. Tonight, I will tell you The Truth.’
The Truth supposedly binds everything together. It should represent the culmination of Albany’s journey as the Voice of the Child and celebrate our community beneath the Covers – it is intended to be about teamwork, obedience, and success. But I have heard rumours that tonight’s Truth will be different.
Albany clears his throat. ‘We have achieved much in the last seven years,’ he begins. ‘There have been huge advances in our understanding, and we have done work that has been of immense value, especially in the fields of long-term climate monitoring specifically relating to tree growth, as well as the development of better systems for enhancing crop yields in the grow-houses.’ He glances behind him at his Mentors, then carries on. ‘We have exceeded goals across our research, and we should be proud of our achievements.’ The man next to be clicks his fingers showing support for what Albany is saying, and others in the audience do the same.
Albany continues. ‘The last few years have been some of the best in terms of dedication and focus. Thanks to several new initiatives we have seen many young people take on important roles in our community, and their achievements should be applauded.’
A smattering of clapping ripples through the crowd and there is a half-hearted cheer from the hooded group.
Ren nudges me. ‘He’s talking about you.’
‘Shush.’ I shake my head, embarrassed by his compliment. ‘I’m not that special.’
‘Sure you are, Bird-girl.’ Ren grins.
Once the applause has died away, Albany goes on. ‘Once, when the Earth was under threat, we were saved by science. We were given Covers to protect us, and we were promised a new life. We have harvested the consequences of our ancestors. But we too are the ancestors of the future. We will continue to thrive through teamwork and obedience. From Darkness comes Fortitude.’ His voice trails off and there are more finger clicks from the front. Maybe the rumours were unfounded after all.
‘I have been humbled to serve you over the last seven years, and I am deeply grateful for your support of me and our Council.’ Albany’s voice wavers. ‘And now my time in this role is over.’ He pauses to lie the ceremonial staff down on the stage in front of him. There’s an anxious silence. This must be so hard. I can’t imagine what he must be going through, and it seems everyone else is feeling for him too.
Albany steps back and smooths down his robe. ‘The last seven years have been a formative time for me and for our town.’ He glances nervously at Simeon’s group. ‘But… I also believe there has been another agenda.’
My ears prick and I lean forward.
‘This is what I was worried about,’ Ren whispers.
Albany takes a deep breath. ‘Information has been kept from us. There is more you need to know…’ He speaks slowly and clearly as though he wants to ensure everyone understands. ‘There is a complex web of lies that holds us together. We have been fed a stream of falsehoods by the people we thought we could trust.’ He pauses, waiting for his words to sink in.
‘This isn’t The Truth,’ the man beside me whispers to his wife. ‘What’s he doing?’
The crowd shifts and people look around, gauging the reaction of their neighbours. It seems this isn’t what they were expecting to hear.
Albany continues, ‘We are not the only land to have survived the great Flood after the Climate Crisis. It’s not just our islands. There are other lands out there.’
Albany’s uncle draws him to one side and says something in his ear. Albany shakes his head and replies. I can’t hear what they are saying, but the expressions on their faces tell me it isn’t a friendly exchange.
Somebody in Simeon’s group shouts, ‘Rubbish!’
Another shouts, ‘Speak the Truth!’
Albany steps away from his uncle, then turns to address the audience again. He is trying to act unperturbed, but it is clear the shouts are bothering him. ‘There are other places beyond our islands. There are places outside of the Covers where the sun shines and birds sing,’ he urges. ‘I am the Voice of the Child. You must listen to me.’
‘You’re not the Voice of the Child anymore.’ The unmistakable sneer of Simeon Hayes.
‘We need The Truth!’ Kristal Jefkins shouts and her yells are followed by a stream of cries from the others. ‘Truth, truth, truth!’ It quickly turns into a chant.
Ren leans forward, his elbows on his knees. ‘I told him he shouldn’t do this.’
Albany’s uncle wraps an arm around his shoulder, clearly imploring him to stop, but Albany shrugs it away. ‘You have to listen to me!’
‘You’re crazy.’ Somebody else shouts.
‘Who was that?’ I ask Ren.
‘I don’t know. It wasn’t one of Simeon’s gang.’ He sounds worried.
Others join in, shouting, ‘Get off! Off! Off! Off!’
‘Let him speak!’ The unmistakable voice of Carla Foster cuts through the shouts. I spot her to the left of the stage, in the place where the Science Board usually sits. She has pinned her grey hair back off her face, and although she sounds firm, she looks as calm as ever, sitting straight-backed and composed. Next to her is Albany’s mother, Lysa, obviously distressed and wringing her hands in her lap.
‘Let him speak,’ Carla repeats.
Someone at the front boos. I’m sure it’s one of Simeon’s gang again, but others are joining in too, booing and shouting, ‘Get off!’
Corvus wriggles in my lap. He pulls at my sweater, making that funny chattering noise he does when he’s anxious about something. The shouting seems to be upsetting him and I’m not surprised. It’s making me feel unsettled too.
Albany claps his hands, trying to regain control of the situation. For a moment, things quieten. ‘You must listen to me.’ Albany’s voice shakes. ‘There is paradise out there waiting for us. We are being used by them. They don’t care about us. We’re some sort of —’
Then the crowd erupts into angry cries and another chant starts, ‘Off! Off! Off!’
‘Quiet!’ Carla Foster tries to make herself heard above the shouting.
‘Bloody conspiracy theories.’ The man next to me turns to me and Ren. ‘You young people think you can change things. The traditions are there for a reason. There’s no respect these days.’ He shakes his head.
‘You’re crazy!’ A clod of mud flies towards the stage from Simeon’s gang and it narrowly misses Albany’s face. His Mentors glance at each other, starting to look scared by the crowd’s growing anger. Bethany Fields speaks to him, gesticulating. Then his uncle tries too. Both of his Mentors protecting him and at the same time trying to silence him. Albany pushes them away. ‘You have to listen!’
The crowd starts jostling towards the stage, chanting louder now. ‘Truth! Truth! Truth!’
‘Is Mum still there?’ Ren seems worried. ‘Can you see her?’
‘I think so.’ I can see her and Ivy tucking back as the crowd edges forward.
‘She’s not part of this. She shouldn’t be here,’ Ren mutters.
‘Part of what?’ But I’m distracted by Albany still shouting from the stage.
‘We don’t have to live like this!’ He clenches his fists in desperation, but his words are drowned out by the noise. ‘It’s all a big lie. You’re all wrong! Why won’t you listen?’ Another lump of mud narrowly misses Albany’s face. He ducks and cowers. In a final act of defiance, he kicks the ceremonial staff sending it clattering across the ground.
The people in crowd surge forward and clamber onto the stage, angry at this break from tradition, angry at Albany’s disrespect … angry at everything. ‘Off! Off! Off’!’ they shout.
Albany’s Mentors shield him as best they can, then bustle him away into the darkness just in time before the stage is overwhelmed by people.
‘No!’ Albany’s mother cries out. She pulls away from Carla and rushes down towards the stage. She elbows through the teaming crowd towards her son and disappears into the melee.
Ren leans back and exhales loudly. ‘That was tough.’
The man next to me stands and waits for his wife to join him. ‘Poor child has been brainwashed. There is nothing out there except endless ocean. He’s gone mad. They’ve all gone mad.’
‘It must be so humiliating.’ His wife starts to lead the way up the steps to the exit, then turns back to me. ‘Goodnight, Merel. Maybe we’ll see you back at the library before too long.’
‘Goodnight,’ I say, and I feel awful that she’s noticed I haven’t been going much. Sometimes this town feels too small, as if everyone knows everything about you.
Once they have gone, Ren and I begin to pick our way out of the circle of benches and into the slow-moving crowd.
‘So, what do you think of The Truth?’ Ren glances over at me.
‘It can’t be true. There isn’t any evidence of another land. The science would tell us if there was anything else out there.’
‘You think he’s lying?’ He raises his eyebrows.
‘Has to be. Or deluded. There’s no way it can be true.’ I give Ren a playful push, but he doesn’t laugh or even smile. Surely, he doesn’t believe that nonsense. Of all people, I thought Ren wouldn’t be swayed by conspiracies. We all know it is just us and the Main Island. The two islands of Zealand. The Histories tell us the rest of the world was flooded after the Crisis and our islands are the only places left on Earth. Literally. It makes me feel lonely sometimes. If it wasn’t for the Covers keeping the sun out, the Earth would have kept warming, the sea level would have risen even more, and we would have gone underwater along with the rest of the planet.
Corvus flies above us, turning lazy circles in the sky as he stretches his wings. He seems more relaxed now the crowd is dissipating.
‘What if it is true?’ Ren speaks quietly so only I can hear him. ‘What if there really is another land out there?’
‘You’re not serious, are you?’ Sometimes I think Ren would believe the world was flat if one of his friends told him. ‘If there was someplace else, people would have come back and told us about it long ago.’
‘I spoke to Albany this afternoon; he seemed so convinced.’ Ren stops to let a group of Growers from the crop-houses past. ‘What if –?’
‘You’ll get into trouble saying things like that,’ I flash him a warning look. ‘You’ll be sent off if you’re not careful’
‘Yeah, right.’ Ren rolls his eyes. ‘I’m too important for that.’
I give him another friendly push and this time he smiles for real. I wish he would be more careful though; people do get sent off for being a troublemaker or an ‘Upstart’ as the Council officially calls them. The last time wasn’t all that long ago. Although I was only small when it happened, I still remember Tomos Wenlock and the way he used to march up and down outside the Town Hall with his banners, shouting, ‘Set us free.’ He refused to work and even went out of bounds. Then he started breaking the curfews. People called him mad and, when he wouldn’t stop, they sent him off. They engraved his name in the Stone of Shame, to remind us what happens if you dare challenge the authorities.
Ren and I keep walking towards town, keeping far enough behind the Gardeners so that they can’t overhear our conversation. Even so, Ren still keeps his voice down. ‘I hate seeing Albany like that. I can’t believe I’ll never see him again. It was always the four of us: me, Albany, Dunyel and Luka. We were inseparable. We used to play halo-disc for hours together on the games field. Do you remember when Dunyel broke his leg and Albany raised the alarm?’
‘Yeah. Everyone called him a hero. That’s probably why they made him the Voice. Such an honour.’
‘It’s weird to think it could have been me standing there tonight.’ Ren seems wistful, almost as if he wishes it had been him instead of Albany.
‘I’m glad it’s not you being sent-off.’ I smile at Ren, trying not to blush. It’s no secret that Ren was almost chosen to be the Voice seven years ago. But the Council changed their mind at the last minute, and then Ren was held back at school. That’s how we ended up graduating together last year, despite the two years between us. That’s how we ended up being such good friends. I wouldn’t want it any other way, and I think he feels the same. At least, I hope he does.
A flock of wild crows flap overhead, cawing on their way to their overnight roost. Corvus moneduloides novaezealandiae – they self-introduced to our islands during the Crisis and are now a sub-species of their own. My Corvus lands back on onto my shoulder, gripping tightly with his toes and rocking forward and back with the motion of my footsteps. He tends to get anxious around the wild crows. They will soon be gone, then he will relax again.
‘Hey buddy.’ I stroke his head, trying to help him settle.
‘You’re good with him.’ Ren tickles Corvus’s head too. ‘He’s lucky you found him.’
‘Thanks.’ I smile. Ren must know how much that means to me. A lot of people think I am crazy having a pet crow, but I try not to listen to them.
‘I’m lucky you found me.’ Ren grins and I can’t help myself from grinning back. I love the way Ren always has something nice to say.
We slip into a friendly silence as we make our way down the track towards the docks. Both of us in our own thoughts. That’s another thing I like about Ren, we can be together without either of us having to say anything. There aren’t many people like that. Sometimes I think Ren and I are meant to be together, but I wouldn’t say that out loud, not to anyone.
