Blue

Blue

by
Kasey Jackson

Copyright © 2014 by Kasey Jackson

All rights reserved.

ISBN 1499796978

Cover Design by Christy Stanton

Every year in late spring, the city of Pretoria, South Africa, becomes covered with blue and purple flowers as its estimated 60,000-70,000 Jacaranda trees begin to bloom.

The Regulations of Humane Harvest Act

22 November 1977

It is hereby notified that the President has assented to the following act, which is hereby published for general information:

ACT

To determine the circumstances in which, and the conditions under which, the collection and harvest of human bodily specimens are able to be humanely obtained and marketed under regulation of the South African government.

(Assented to 12
th
of November, 1977)

PREAMBLE

Recognizing the values of human dignity and the importance of security to every person,

Recognizing that the constitution protects the right of all persons to make decisions in regard to their own safety,

Recognizing that all “afflicted people” (or the guardians of said “afflicted people”) have the right to seek safety from criminal, inhumane bodily specimen harvest practices,

Recognizing the importance of personal security to any “afflicted person’s” physical, psychological and social health,

Believing that universal access to sufficient shelter from all inhumane harvest practices is the right of every “afflicted person” (or the legal guardians of said “afflicted person”) regardless of their income or ability to pay for said shelter,

And believing that all “afflicted people” (and the legal guardians of said “afflicted people”) are entitled to the monetary benefits of their own humane harvest,

This Act therefore enacts the ability of the South African Government to establish “Humane Harvest Facilities,” and extends the freedom to every “afflicted person” (or the legal guardians of said “afflicted person”) to utilize these facilities for safe humane harvest and the marketization of all harvested specimens according to their personal beliefs.

Part I: Humanity

P a r t  I

H u m a n i t y

C h a p t e r 
1

They were beautiful. No one could deny the magnificence of the Jacaranda. Their cracked bark and stately branches made them a sight to behold year-round. However, the late spring especially brought the trees to life. By the middle of October, all of Pretoria seemed to be covered with delicate clusters of blue and purple flowers.

As October crept into November and the rains began to fall, the buds would slowly start to shed from their branches and pile onto the moistened ground below. The Jacaranda-lined sidewalks and streets of Pretoria would become blanketed with flowers –one side reaching out desperately for the other.

“No, Anytha. The Law is the Law. And the Law is always preeminent,” Anytha remembered her father saying once in her childhood, as she held up a tiny Jacaranda tree that she had dug out of the woods, asking desperately to plant it outside of her bedroom window. “I’m sorry, Anytha. It’s illegal to plant a Jacaranda tree anywhere inside the city limits. They have become a nuisance around here, and are beginning to choke out some of the native plants. Honestly, Anytha, if you wanted another Jacaranda tree around here then you should have left this one alone. Now all we can do is destroy it.” She then remembered him grabbing the sprout by its dangling roots and tossing it in the garbage as she turned away deflated, confused by how something so beautiful could be considered a nuisance to anyone.

Anytha remembered that conversation from her childhood as she walked along the bud-covered path to the university steps, her mother tagging close beside her. She couldn’t help but watch her feet wade through the petals as she walked, looking up intermittently between steps to see the courtyard path growing shorter with every step. How anyone could dislike these trees was still beyond her understanding. Anytha couldn’t imagine what kind of person would propose a bill that banned Jacarandas from being planted or sold within the city limits. It was as if this person had proposed a law against Pretoria itself. Pretoria wouldn’t be Pretoria without the annual budding of the trees that gave it the nickname of the “Jacaranda City.” Someone, though, had indeed proposed a law to ban them in the city limits, and it had indeed passed. And though the logic seemed flawed to Anytha, in her family’s beliefs, the Law was always preeminent. If the Law said the Jacarandas were a nuisance, then they must be a nuisance.

The campus was even more beautiful than she had imagined. She had dreamed of sitting on a park bench under one of the Jacarandas with her sketchpad and charcoal, breathing the summer air as a stray bud would fall on her shoulder. Anytha remembered hearing from the recruiter that it was a well-known sign of good luck to have a Jacaranda bud graze you on its descent to the ground; it was believed that it would help you pass all of your exams.

They were not ones to believe in luck, those practicing Blue as Anytha’s family did. There was no law of luck in the Commissioning Book, therefore, it didn’t exist. But Anytha still walked more slowly under the branches of the Jacarandas, secretly hoping to fall under the trajectory of a flittering flower. If she had her way, she would have final exams here one day. And she didn’t think it would hurt anything to store up some luck for the future.

The skies above the university were once again dark gray and thick with rain. The clouds let out a rumble, and Anytha looked up at the sky. The rainy season so far in 1995, even though it had only just begun, was turning into one of the most aggressive she had ever seen. The skies had been strikingly dark most of the season.

Anytha walked up the concrete stairs of the Old Merensky Library, where she had been told she would meet her campus guide. She glanced up from her feet, noticing the stone planters billowing with flowers on either side of the steps. She reached out and placed her hand on the stately, carved wooden door and felt a drop of rain hit the back of her hand as she pushed it open.

Behind a second set of glass doors, they entered the library as the familiar smell of old books filled Anytha’s senses. For years she had dreamed of walking the halls here—to study in this library.  And she had logged more than her fair share of hours studying in her own school’s library to make it happen. She wasn’t one of those students that could simply read over the material once and pass the test. She knew what she needed to do to get the grades that she desired, and she felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that her hard work would be the only thing that would earn her the right to study in this library one day.

Though she had been dreaming of leaving for college for years, everything still seemed to be coming faster than she expected. Senior year was halfway over, and the rush to find a college started months ago. Before she knew it, she would be packing her things and moving into a dorm. Her applications had all been submitted, and though she had already received some acceptance letters from a couple of schools, Anytha’s heart was here.

A flat smile spread across Anytha’s face as the campus tour guide approached her with his right hand extended.

“Are you—um—pardon me if I pronounce it incorrectly—is it Uh-nigh-tha?” the young man asked, pronouncing the sounds slowly as he shook her hand, looking down at his clipboard and then back at her.

“Uh-knee-tha. Knee. Like the leg—part,” Anytha said stuttering and pointing to her leg, and nervously laughing a bit.

“Oh, pardon me—of course—Anytha. Well, I will say—it definitely sounds better that way,” the guide said, laughing and waving her along to begin their tour.

“Now there is no need to nail it down just yet, but do you have any idea of what field of study you are most interested in?” the tour guide asked, pointing Anytha and her mother back out the front door of the library.

“Visual arts, most likely,” Anytha said without hesitation.

The corner of the guide’s mouth dipped a little with Anytha’s response, but he quickly turned his face over and lit up with exaggerated excitement.

“Well, let us make our way over to the Old Arts Building first so that you can take a look around, shall we?” he asked with a forced skip in his step.

As they made their way along the brick paths, the guide’s dislike for silence became evident as he felt the need to fill every moment with words. He raved of the quality teachers and administration that the university had to offer. Engineering was his field of choice, and he spoke so highly of the acclaimed engineering department that it seemed to Anytha he might be attempting to convert her to the idea of another path.

The Old Arts Building was probably the most famous of all of the university’s old buildings; Anytha remembered, as a child, thinking that it resembled a castle. They approached the front door of the stately, yellow brick building, and the guide walked ahead of them, opening the door for them. Anytha walked in and spun around, looking up toward the ceiling. The building was full of natural light, even with the darkened sky outside, and the classrooms were filled with artwork, covering the walls from floor to ceiling. Students wearing smocks roamed the halls, paintbrushes in hand. Wet canvases on easels filled one of the classrooms; another had thin paper on the walls covered in sketches.

The building itself was a visual performance of movement. Anytha imagined herself sitting on the floor in the corner of the foyer after everyone else had gone home and the halls had long fallen quiet. She imagined leaning over a shadowed sketchpad, and blowing away the excess charcoal from a finished piece, inadvertently blowing a soft, curly lock of her deep brown hair out of her face as well. Anytha was speechless. Her heart felt deeply for these halls.

The guide turned to Anytha’s mother, Delah, and lifted his eyebrows.

“What do you think, Mrs. Lindewe?” the guide asked.

Anytha heard the question and snapped out of her daydream. She spun her head around quickly to catch her mother’s reaction.

“Well, I know Anytha would absolutely love it here,” Delah said with an inverted frown. Anytha wouldn’t have called it a smile by any means.

Delah rolled her eyes upward to meet Anytha’s gaze, and Anytha’s heart sank into the pit of her stomach.

The guide took them all over the campus, finally finishing the tour again at the library, and briefly said goodbye before Anytha and her mother made their way back to the car. As they walked back to the parking lot together, Anytha felt a growing anticipation for what her mother would say as soon as they were confined together, side-by-side in the vehicle. Anytha resolved that she would have to tell her mother that this is where she wanted to be. Even if her parents said that they couldn’t afford it, Anytha was determined to make it happen. Somehow, she would make it happen.

Anytha opened the passenger door of her mother’s sporty new car and got inside.

“It’s going to be too expensive, Anytha,” Delah said with the click of her seatbelt.

Anytha stared out the window.

“I told you that it would be too expensive. I knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea to come here. I knew that you would fall in love with this place, and we would have to rip it right out from under you. Your father and I have obligations to fulfill in so many other areas right now. Even with that scholarship, I honestly don’t know that we could make it happen. Maybe if you were looking into a different field, like law, we could convince your father to invest our money in your education,” Delah said, her voice trailing off as it began to fall on Anytha’s unlistening ears.

Anytha had always been a compliant child. Never disrespectful to her parents, never acting entitled, never greedy. She was hardworking by nature; even as a young child her work ethic and confidence was mature beyond her years. In her silence, Anytha was confident her mother knew she wasn’t trying to be disrespectful. Delah knew that if Anytha was silent there was a reason for it. She had the discerning ability to know when words were needed and when they would cause more harm than good.

Anytha knew that her father credited much of her strength of character to the fact that she had been raised faithfully in the practice of Blue. She was one of the few in the practice that had been raised Blue for the majority of her childhood. Her dedication to the Commission brought her father much pride. He was always quick to brag on his daughter in the presence of their camp leaders. He was quick to pat her on the back with every piece of legislation that she took interest in and never missed an opportunity to boast about how many hours she had logged in community service or meditation in any given month. Anytha always laughed when considering how many of the meditation hours she had logged that were actually hours filled with daydreams.

Anytha stared out the window, watching the rain beat against it as she endured the rest of the silent car ride, until her mother pulled into the parking lot of the first dress shop.

Today was the day that she was to pick out her Activation party dress—a day that Anytha had secretly dreaded for years. Anytha didn’t mind shopping. It was Activation Day that she dreaded. Only a few more months and Anytha would be “of age,” and the unbridled celebration of her activation into the Commission would begin at the stroke of midnight on her birthday. Since the doctrine of Blue was predominantly based on the Law of the Land, the age of activation came on the same day that a South African citizen gained the right to vote—eighteen.

For most teenagers in Blue, their activation was excitedly anticipated their entire lives, almost as anticipated as their wedding day. The activee was showered with lavish gifts: money, clothing, bottles of wine, spirits, sometimes even vehicles and scholarships. The celebration continued through the night until the sun came up; then the revelers went home, and the janitors came to clean up the mess.

Anytha had never viewed adulthood in the same way that it was portrayed at activation parties. The adults that she had come to respect over the years looked nothing like the adults that came out to play at the activation parties. The parents that she respected looked nothing like the parents that she saw stumbling through the door on the morning after a particularly rowdy activation. To Anytha, activation had always seemed like a distant, uncomfortable day, but now as she was about to browse the racks for a form-fitting dress, it was becoming an ever-approaching uncomfortable reality.