Pucker Read Free

saw into the past instead of the future, but that she could change a person’s past. It was because of the Maker that we eventually opened up the portals to Earth again.
    Everything had changed, though. No longer were we satisfied with information-gathering expeditions. Now we trolled the streets of America with just one intent: to enlist a workforce for Isaura. Maybe we reasoned that it was payback for the ills that had been inflicted on our society.
    It’s not as bad as it sounds. We did have codes of conduct. Enlistment was voluntary. We never forced anyone to come. We also only recruited those who were ill, whose bodies were disfigured in some way. In exchange for the Maker healing them, altering the event that had led to their deformity, the Changed (as we came to call them) washed our clothes, cleaned our outhouses, and swept our streets.
    I was desperate to see the Maker work her magic—all of us children were. Instead I was stuck listening to the Seers in the Children’s Room, who were doing the most mundane of jobs.
    â€œThere’s a pothole on Cherry Lane; make sure you avoid it. If you don’t, you’ll sprain your ankle.”
    â€œDon’t eat the stewed pears; they’ll give you a stomachache.”
    â€œYou’re going to fail your history test. I suggest you study a little harder.”
    These Seers were the workhorses of the Ministry, many of them very young and still apprenticing. When it came to forecasting the daily events that would befall the citizens of Isaura, Seers were limited in their powers. First of all, they couldn’t just see somebody’s future at whim. They had to be actually touching that person. Also, they could only see out about twenty-four hours at a time. That was why everybody had to come each morning to the Ministry to be read.
    With bigger life issues, like vocations, marriage, and births, Seers could see far out into the future, but not with the same level of detail with which they forecast the day’s events. Seers could also see years ahead with storms, natural catastrophes, and diseases.
    My parents both worked in Weather. They knew that 324 days from now there would be a blizzard that would blanket the countryside with ten feet of snow. Because of their predictions preparations were already under way: food was being stockpiled, and wood had been chopped and stacked in barns.
    Finally I got to the front of the line and stuck my hand out eagerly. Given my parents’ odd behavior this morning, I was anxious to hear what the rest of the day would hold. The Seer placed his palm on mine and I readied myself for the odd sensation of being read. It felt like hands creeping around inside you, as if your chest were a bureau and the Seer were pushing aside your liver and your spleen, looking for a lost pair of socks. I had been taught that at the exact moment when my breath caught in my throat, I must surrender myself to the Seer’s probe. The sensation was like falling.
    Only this time I didn’t fall. I heard my mother’s voice in my head. She yelled my name—“Thomas!”—and I felt the Seer’s energy dissipate inside me and scurry away.
    The Seer dropped my hand. “Strange,” he said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNothing.” He picked up his notebook and scribbled something next to my name.
    â€œI didn’t do anything wrong,” I said, worried that he somehow knew what had happened that morning. That I had cried. That my mother had cried. That my father had kissed me.
    â€œNobody said you did,” he said, flicking his hand impatiently at me. “It’s my job to report when I can’t read somebody. Now move aside, please.”
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    My mother was waiting for me in the hallway. “I want to show you something,” she said.
    She grabbed my hand, then let it go. She had forgotten herself. Parents did not hold children’s hands in Isaura. We wound our way up two staircases