Reckoning Read Free Page A

get away with cheating on your rations or altering your schedule – but only if you do so in small amounts. The first time I tried, I doubled my rations but after a week, the Kingsmen refused to let me leave the allocations carriage of the supplies train. I was terrified as they scanned my thinkwatch but then, after an hour or so, they released me. The next day, my rations were back to normal. It took me another six months before I was brave enough to try again and only by using it sparingly have I stayed undetected. Or at least this is what I assume.
    I wonder if Paul is somehow aware of the things I am. Perhaps he has gone further and has been able to manipulate the way our thinkwatches communicate with the thinkpad? As my eyes begin to peer towards the light of the windows, I feel the device tugging at my thumb, letting me know it is time to begin.
    The strangest thing is that no two people have the same story to tell about what the Reckoning is. After each year’s is over, the younger children ask the older ones what happens but all I have ever heard is that it is a new kind of experience. Some say it is a conversation, some a test. Others seem scarred by it, almost bullied, while the mother of one of Martindale’s few Elites once told me her son said it was the best few hours he had ever had.
    Not knowing what to expect, I feel a question drifting into the front of my mind, wondering how my day is going. I try not to smile but respond that I thought the Reckoning would be a little harder than this. I can feel the itching under my watch as a tickle goes down my spine. For me, this feels like a conversation, as the thinkpad starts painting scenarios into my mind and asking me what I think. For the most part, it is a pleasurable experience. It makes me feel like I am flying, then judges whether I am happy. Suddenly, I feel as if I am falling rapidly. I breathe deeply and calm myself and the device seems pleased. It asks me what grade I would like, telling me I could be a Trog and not replying when I tell it I would not be that concerned. Broadly it is the truth. It shows me images of death and asks what I think, then instantly flicks to an infant child. I can feel it trying to manipulate me, searching for who I am as a person.
    It asks me if there’s something I’d rather not tell it. I fight to keep Paul away from my thoughts but I can tell that’s not what it’s searching for. Instead the pressure is building in my ears, starting with a gentle squeal and increasing quickly until the sound is everywhere, squashing and squeezing me like the most brutal of hugs. In the moment it takes for me to breathe in, I feel as if I am falling again and suddenly the Reckoning is tugging a memory from my mind.

3
    YESTERDAY
    I feel the goosebumps rise on my arm as the chilled rush of the breeze skims across the remains of the gully, a reminder the warmth of summer is almost over for another year. I can hear my mother in my head, telling me it’s time to go in, that tomorrow is a big day and the last thing I need is a cold to go with the nerves, even if most of the anxiety is hers. The truth is, I am sat here gazing at the pile of shattered electrical goods for a reason, waiting for the snap of a broken screen or the crunch of an old piece of plastic to disturb me. Maybe Opie believes the gentle howl of the wind will be enough to cover his footsteps or, more likely, he still has no control over how much noise he makes as he blunders through the mounds of other people’s rubbish. It’s not as if I haven’t told him to be quiet enough times when we’ve been out. But there it is, a brush of broken glass against boot that makes me want to grin, although I remain sitting against the dirt bank, facing the other way.
    If I wasn’t trying to pretend I didn’t know he was there, I would probably laugh at the fact Opie thinks he can sneak up on me. We have known each other for most of the