Reckoning Read Free Page B

sixteen years since we were born a day apart and, although he has those few extra hours, he has rarely been able to get anything over on me.
    But today is different because tomorrow’s Reckoning will change both of our lives, almost certainly dividing us. That is why I came out to our spot to wait, pressed up against the gentle incline of the dry lake facing away from the forest, away from our village. I knew he would show up at some point: he has a question to ask.
    As I feel him approaching, I decide to let Opie have his moment, keeping my eyes steady on the wreck of plastic and glass filling the space that once brimmed with water, fish and any number of creatures we hear stories about. I never knew my grandparents, but Opie’s grandmother never seemed happier than the evenings she spent telling us stories of how things were before the war; when the gully held water, not the waste and memories of a different generation.
    As he touches my shoulder and grunts a ‘raargh’ of happiness, I jolt my body in mock surprise, turning around, grabbing his legs and pushing him to the ground. I roll on top, peering down at the sandy soil which has caked his hair. He tries to grab me but I wriggle from his grasp and elbow him under the ribs in the way I know will make him giggle with ticklish enjoyment. He writhes involuntarily and kicks me upwards until we are both lying in the dust, staring at the grey skies, hooting to ourselves as if this won’t be the last time we do this. Around us is the sea of technology that no longer works.
    â€˜You knew I was there, didn’t you?’ he says in a voice that seems to get deeper each day.
    â€˜It wasn’t hard with those big feet of yours scaring everything that is still alive out there.’
    Opie doesn’t reply but I feel his hand rubbing the back of mine and allow him to lock our fingers together as we listen to the draught of air scuttling around us.
    â€˜You do know those parts belong to the King,’ he eventually says.
    I knew he would say that; he always does. Technically he is right – the piles of unwanted, unusable electronics that fill our abandoned lake certainly aren’t mine.
    â€˜Everything belongs to the King,’ I remind him.
    â€˜What are you looking for anyway?’ he says, ignoring my point. I know he is hoping I will answer the question he has come to ask before he even gets to it.
    â€˜The usual,’ I reply, pushing myself up onto my elbows, still holding his hand and acting as if I don’t know what he is up to.
    Opie raises himself up too and we lean into each other, back-to-back. ‘How are you so good with this stuff?’ he asks.
    I’m not sure I know why myself. I have grown up with all of this around me and, for whatever reason, I find technology easy.
    When it’s clear I don’t have an answer, Opie lets my hand go and shows me his thinkwatch. ‘What do you think it was like before these?’ he asks.
    It’s hard to imagine life without them and as an adult they will define who we are. Before you take the Reckoning, the face of everyone’s thinkwatch is a dull white-grey, in contrast to the silver metal circle around it. Once your place in society has been decided your thinkwatch becomes coloured and branded. If you are an Elite, the face turns black with the faint symbol of a crown to show that you belong to the top section of society. If you are a Member, the front becomes orange with a lightning bolt to symbolise industry and productivity. Inters have blue watch faces marked with a sword, while those in the lowest band of society – the Trogs – have yellow watches inscribed with a small sickle. I look at the piles of orphaned electrical items in front of us. ‘Probably not that different,’ I say. ‘They just used other things then.’
    â€˜I can’t imagine one of those on my wrist,’ Opie replies, nodding towards an old screen, but he