The Other Side of a Promise

It happened on my way home from work. The day was like any other—I’d risen with the sun, prepared for the day, and left my publicly assigned dwelling right at seven to stride to the northwestern spire and arrive for my eight o’clock shift. I spent the day denying citizens’ requests for dwellings located closer to the central spire, stopping only for a half-hour lunch break and two 5-minute bathroom breaks.

Promptly at six in the evening, I left the spire for my daily trip to the nutrition dispensary for a quick dinner. With my rations in hand, I began the last third of my trek back home, not a thought in my head other than what I might do for mental stimulation after my evening meal. I strode along the carefully maintained city path without having to focus on my actions.

It was on that quiet walk that I first saw her. Several moments passed before I understood what I was seeing; after all, the only other elder I’d met had died when I was a child. She sat alone on a bench beneath the last lamppost on the block. Her hair was whiter than the sheets of paper I spent every weekday stamping with the word DENIED. Her eyes were a soft gray, framed by short lashes. And she wore an outfit not unlike my own—simple trousers and plain blouse in mute, earthy tones.

I stopped just a few feet away, “Um, excuse me, ma’am. What are you doing out here?”

She smiled faintly, and without meeting my gaze, she answered, “I’m enjoying the summer evening one final time. I’m the last, you know. All the other elders have already died. It’s because I’m alone that the Enclave allowed me to leave the central spire.”

“I thought…” I gulped. “I thought all the elders were…removed…after the Decree?” My uncertainty made the sentence a question.

She shook her head, “Only people who had yet to turn sixty were bound by the Decree. Those of us who were already that age or older were permitted to live out the last of our days, with reduced rations, in the heart of the city. And like I said, I’m the last, so they make exceptions for me.”

I took a seat beside her. “And you chose to spend your final moments out here?” I glanced around. It was a normal city street with the usual shops and prime dwellings—nothing special about it. I said as much to her.

She laughed quietly, “I disagree. There’s everything out here. Trust me, young lady, there’s beauty all around you.”

“Beauty?” I arched my brows. “What is beauty?”

She chuckled again, “I don’t suppose you’d understand…you’re what, twenty-two? Twenty-five? Much too young to remember the way life was before the Decree.”

“I’m twenty-four,” I fidgeted. “I was five when the Decree was made. You didn’t answer my question,” I pointed out.

“Beauty? Hmm, how to describe it to one who’s never heard of it?” She turned her gaze to the setting sun and rubbed her chin. “Beauty is…undefinable,” she grinned. “There’s no one right way to describe it. Maybe an example will do? Take a look at the sunset. What do you see?” She turned to me.

I frowned but did as she asked. “I see a burning ball of gas passing below the horizon. The rays of its light passing through the atmosphere are changing the color of the sky—there’s red and orange and even a hint of pink. Some clouds are framing the sun and there are birds flying across. It’s the same thing I see every day on my way home from work.”

“And how does it make you feel?”

I shrugged, “It doesn’t make me feel anything? It’s just the setting sun. There’s nothing special about it. How does this answer my question?”

I turned just in time to see her pulling a strange metal chain out of her shirt and taking it from around her neck. It had something hanging from it—an unfamiliar shape, a small hunk of metal. I gasped as I realized, “That’s jewelry, isn’t it?! How did you get that? Put it away before someone else sees it!” I glanced around, but thankfully, the nearest people were a block up the street from us.

“My parents gave me this locket the day I was born,” she whispered. “I don’t suppose you recognize this shape, do you?” She continued before I could answer, “This is a heart. It may not be anatomically correct, but before the Decree, people the world over regarded this as a heart. It was a symbol for love and joy. Here, see what’s inside?”

She did something with the so-called locket and it popped open. On the left-hand side was a small picture of a man and woman holding a baby and smiling. The right side had a picture of a different man and woman without a baby. “Those are my parents holding me the day I was born. And on the other side, I’m with my husband. He died shortly after we took this picture. For the longest time, I couldn’t see the beauty in the world after I lost him.

“But on my worst days,” she went on, “I look at these pictures and I remember what life was like before the Decree. I had just turned sixty when it was passed. I’d spent my lifetime lamenting over the ugliness of the world, so I had no personal reason to fight the Decree. We were no longer allowed to produce art nor consume it. No one could adorn themselves in jewelry or wear flashy clothing. Everything that makes a person, all the self-expression and creativity…it was all taken from us in a flash.

“That’s the real reason for the Decree,” she met my eyes with tears in her own. “Despite what the Enclave tells people, there’s plenty of food and other resources to support a population much larger than what we have now. There used to be billions of people spread out on every continent and not only on this one—the others were habitable back then. Imagine all those people from a variety of cultures and lives, all of them with their own idea of beauty. Some of their ideals were deeply ingrained and developed across centuries of cultural history. So when the Enclave banned expressions of beauty, entertainment, and everything else that defines humanity, they knew they had to get rid of the people who could remember what history has forgotten.”

I shuddered, confused by her strange speech. What is entertainment? I wondered. Then, curious about this last elder, I asked, “What is beauty, though? You still haven’t really explained.”

She looked back at the setting sun, “Beauty is many things. It’s the smile on the faces of the people you love. Beauty is the quality time spent with friends. It’s the smell of coffee brewed by someone who cares about you; it’s the sight of kittens playing with balls of yarn; it’s the sound of a song written by a person who feels too much to put into mere words; it’s the taste of food you’ve spent hours preparing; it’s the feel of the arms of your parents holding you tight and the knowledge that their love will stay with you no matter where you go.

“I could go on and on for decades about all the beautiful people and things I’ve met and experienced. But nothing will help you understand beauty better than discovering it for yourself.” She sighed and turned back to me, “Will you make me a promise?”

I frowned, “What is a promise?”

“A promise is something you agree to,” she explained. “For instance, you might promise a friend to cook their favorite meal, or you might tell your younger sibling you’ll spend a day doing whatever they want. Just like beauty, a promise can take on many shapes. Will you make one for me?”

Without fully understanding her words, I nodded, “Sure.”

“Okay then,” she smiled. “I want you to promise me that everyday from this moment on, you will find one thing that is beautiful. And each time you find it, you must tell someone about it. Don’t let the idea of something more than the mundane lives ordained for us by the Enclave die with me. Promise me that, one day, society will find its way back to humanity. Promise me that you’ll pass this promise to others. I need to know that there will be another side to this promise.”

I shook my head, “I don’t really know what that means, ma’am. What is the other side of a promise? What is beauty? How…how am I supposed to find these answers if you won’t explain them to me in a way I can understand?

“You expect too much,” I glared at her. “The Decree carefully outlines everyone’s existence. Even sitting here with you for the past twenty minutes is technically an offense. I should be home by now, eating today’s dinner ration. And then I need to clean my house and perform my daily mental stimulation. Before I met you, I was deciding between practicing the monthly equation and rereading the new amendments to the Decree. What you’re asking of me feels too much like defying the Enclave.

“I’ve been so careful my whole life, never doing anything that might qualify as rebellion,” I clenched my ration in my lap. “To defy the Decree is to defy the Enclave. And to defy the Enclave is to invite death. I’m not ready to die like you. I have another thirty-five years ahead of me. I’ll be allowed to find a partner soon. Why should I jeopardize that?”

She smiled again and I could see a secret in her eyes. “Because you have questions that cannot be answered through obedience nor participation in your own subjugation and oppression.”

My eyes widened, “I don’t know what half those words mean, ma’am.”

“Subjugation means controlling people, often through force,” she explained. “And oppression mean something similar, though it also implies that there is cruelty and dehumanization in the act. To dehumanize someone is to make them not people in order to justify the bad things you say and do to them. Think about your life,” she eyed me. “Are you free to do as you please when you please? Have you any say in the path you walk in life? Do you make any real choices, or do you only ‘choose’ between the limited options the Enclave provides you?” She did something with her first two fingers of both hands when she said the word choose.

When she saw my questioning stare, she sighed and told me, “Those were air quotes. Back in my day, we used those to denote a number of things. They could be used to indicate sarcasm or disbelief. You could make air quotes when actually quoting someone or something. The list goes on.

“My point in all of this,” she placed a hand on my shoulder, “is to open the eyes of at least one person. My parents were so old when the Decree was made, they didn’t have long to live anyways. My mother passed away first, a few days before my father. Just before he closed his eyes for the last time, he made me promise to remember the way things used to be.

“I never really understood what he meant, but I’m hoping to meet him on the other side of that promise. And now, it’s almost my time to go, so I have to make sure someone will fulfill the promise in my stead. Will you promise me?” She asked again.

With a sigh, I nodded once more. “Yes, I promise. I’ll start tonight. When I get home, I’ll tell my neighbor about the sunset. And tomorrow, I will find something else that confuses me. I’ll rebel in small ways.” I smiled.