The Letter `

Dear person who has found my letter,

My name is Whizbang, and I know what you must be thinking. Whizbang!? How could anyone have such a truly amazing name? I know. You see I named myself, or rather, renamed myself. The assigned name I was given at birth was Clarissa, which was less interesting and action-packed than Whizbang, if I do say so myself. Now, before you make it further into my letter, if you find yourself growing bored of what you read, or if you read something scary and makes your stomach twist, or if you are uncomfortable and wish to call the people in gold, then keep reading. This is the letter for you, dear reader.

I've started and restarted this letter so many times in hopes I'd be able to find the words to explain what I have learned these last few months, so let's start with the beginning, Let's start with Accordia. Our home. The perfect city under the big dome.

We all know the story. The world ended; Humanity went to war and ruined it all. However, before the downfall, several individuals got together and built Accordia — a safe place for those who wanted to hide from what was going on in the outside world. With the dome to keep us safe, it functioned as a barrier, projecting images of the sky and sun, and it would rain only a few times out of the year.

It's all so easy in Accordia. We are born and assigned to Watchers. Each morning we take Accordia regulated medication. We go to school for a few years and, afterwards, we are assigned our jobs and colors. We are assigned our life, and we do them well. When we are 22, we are assigned our mate, the person we shall be with for the rest of our lives. No one complains or judges or fights. Why would you?

Dear reader, you do not know any other way.

Females could have babies with their mates until they turn 30. At 30, we celebrate with the reducing — the “beneficial celebration” for our body where we can no longer have children, as there was no point in having more after that age. Females already did an exceptional job of providing more children to the hospitals, where the babies are prepared and sent to the Watchers, aged between 31-36. The females never know which children on the streets were the ones they’d brought into the world and they never cared to find out. This cycle continued, on and on, since the beginning.

Deep down, I felt I should have known better. It seems so silly when you are no longer ignorant. I should have known there was something wrong, something different, something unusual with me when I was assigned red (Sorry if you are a red worker, but truly, do you really think we are needed?). We are told all jobs are important. Gold workers protect the law and order of Accordia, making sure no one uses illegal words or actions, because how dare someone splash in a puddle, or cry, or laugh? Of course, you do not know what those are just yet, but I'll teach you. Keep reading.

Now, I do not need to tell you, but I shall anyway. Yellow workers make sure the dome is working, the weather is working, and the projections on the dome are intact. Green workers tend to the farmlands and the animals in the domes. White workers are the medical staff. Pink workers do the regular check-ins with houses to ensure they are all kept clean and tidy, and the homes, grass and trees all look painfully boring and the same. Heck, even brown workers get the job to make sure people get their medication and food deliveries. Then there are red workers, whose job is to go door to door to check on everyone and see if they received all their needed materials. Red workers are just people who could not do any of the other jobs, but could still give children, and watch them when they are older.

My watcher was a medical professional, which, upon my learning of the world, I’ve realized is a stupid job. No one gets sick. We are not allowed anything fun that would hurt us, not that we would get the idea of playing and getting hurt. He was just another person in charge of monitoring the babies before they went to better-equipped Watcher units. I went to my watcher, as I was told as a child, because I was a weak baby. He took me in, even though he did not have a mate and was only 26 when I was born. I know that may seem odd to many of you reading. An underaged man with no mate, was given a child to watch? Yes, well, maybe to you it would seem odd. To me, I never questioned it, or longed for a female Watcher. Not back then, not when I did not understand. And if asked by any gold workers, my Watcher would show a signed paper from the great leaders, giving permission for this.

I digress. I was 20 when the morning came that things would change for me. Being I did not get to a mateable age, I was still living with my Watcher. Each morning I woke, went down to the table, and sat with my Watcher. While he sipped his coffee, I had my juice, and we took our medication along with an official Accordia approved breakfast. We talked a little, ate, and went to work. In the evenings we would settle down to watch the Accorida television, full of the same safe informational shows, repeating things we all learned in school years. That morning it was different. I came to the table, clad in red clothing, and my Watcher sat in his white clothing, one leg uncharacteristically crossed to rest on the other. He had his coffee, and two water bottles sat on the table, with strange blue goo at the bottom. I did not know then, but I would find out that it was our medication. The other oddity of the morning was the strange box on the table. It was not silver, and perfectly square like the storage boxes we all used. It was brown, like tree material, and had a hunched top. It was such a strange box, and it took up most of the table. I recall eyeing my Watcher, and knowing I should call the people in gold, for this was strange and not normal, so it must be illegal. But my Watcher just looked at me.

“Clarissa,” he had said, because remember, my name back then was that name, and not Whizbang. “Have a seat, my daughter.”

I recall thinking how strange that word was. It was pronounced da-er-ta-er, and it will not be a word you learn in school. I was so intrigued with the word, that I sat, then truly looked at the water bottles. In astonishment, I looked at him and demanded to know what had happened to my medication. He smiled in a way I could not recall seeing. It was not the polite motion we are trained to do when greeting. No. His teeth were on display, and his eyes seemed to shine in a way I could not comprehend. He even made a noise that was not words, nor a sign of illness. He told me later it was called a laugh. He told me that I did not need my medication anymore and that we needed to talk of grown-up things now. I simply nodded, as he began to speak. And this was what he told me.

He said he had not taken his medication since he was mated, and he did, in fact, have a mate. A woman named Jasmine, who used to get the gold workers called on her all the time. They were neighbors, and she was always odd. She made expressions with her face, my Watcher showed me a few. It was odd seeing one's face scrunch and move; it looked painful. He told me she dissolved her medication in water and flushed it down the toilet. Once they were mated, she convinced him to do the same. He did. He said it was scary, a word he had to look up. Then he opened the box. These were her things, he explained. There were books I'd never heard of in it, and one big one named Webster stuck out. It was massive and heavy. There were several other books I'd never seen, and clothes with shapes and odd colors, and things he'd describe to me as toys. Filled with pillow material and shaped like animals. There was also an item he called a locket. It was a gold color, in the shape of a heart, and it opened. Inside was nothing, but he said there had never been anything in it. It was his mate’s. She wore it everyday under her red uniform. She taught him the things we all did not know, the same way her Watcher had shown her

Each day, I stopped taking my meds and he helped me learn the things he'd been taught by his mate. When I was strong enough, he told me the whole truth. I was his daughter, biologically speaking. Jasmine had been my mother. When she went into labor with me, he made sure he was there. The plan was to smuggle me out of the hospital, to be raised by them, with a false note he’d constructed. To be raised with no medication. To be taught about love, and sadness, and the emotions are medication kept from us. To be taught the “flaws” Accordia did not want us to know.

He had done his part, but by the time he returned to my mother’s room, she was gone. He said she taught him emotions, and losing her taught him to hide them. We worked. We played. He explained my emotions to me as they happened, and I loved them so very much. Even the bad ones. I wore my mother’s necklace, and the cold little golden heart made me long for her, and what she was like. He told me often my mother had loved me — the way no one had loved a babe in years — even if she never got to hold me. She rubbed her belly, called me her little Whizbang, and smiled when I moved.

He'd taught me so much, my father. I had read all the books, even the Webster one, which was a collection of words, many of which were not allowed or taught. We even went out of the dome. As it turns out, there are 3 weak spots that aren't monitored, and we were able to leave.

Outside, it was beautiful. Trees grew freely, and wildly, and unkept. He'd been outside of the dome with my mother before, several times. There were old buildings, and more books, and things. I told him I did not want to go back, I did not want to be matched to a mate, so he said we could leave. I remember not sleeping that night, and holding my mother’s locket close. I knew I'd go with him. Once you feel the sensation of real sunlight on your face, once you feel fear, and love, and happiness, you can't let it go.

But I knew I needed to write this letter first, so if you read this and you see one of these many copies I've scattered throughout Accordia, take this as your chance.

Stop taking your meds. Do as my family has done, and stop. Free yourself. When you're ready, you can find us on the outside of the dome, hiding in the trees with books and emotions.

Forever free,

Whizbang.