The Giver Read online

Page 11

 

  The old man, still beside the bed, was watching him. "How do you feel?" he asked.

  Jonas sat up and tried to answer honestly. "Surprised," he said, after a moment.

  The old man wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "Whew," he said. "It was exhausting. But you know, even transmitting that tiny memory to you—I think it lightened me just a little. "

  "Do you mean—you did say I could ask questions?"

  The man nodded, encouraging his question.

  "Do you mean that now you dont have the memory of it—of that ride on the sled—anymore?"

  "Thats right. A little weight off this old body. "

  "But it was such fun! And now you dont have it anymore! I took it from you!"

  But the old man laughed. "All I gave you was one ride, on one sled, in one snow, on one hill. I have a whole world of them in my memory. I could give them to you one by one, a thousand times, and there would still be more. "

  "Are you saying that I—I mean we—could do it again?" Jonas asked. "Id really like to. I think I could steer, by pulling the rope. I didnt try this time, because it was so new. "

  The old man, laughing, shook his head. "Maybe another day, for a treat. But theres no time, really, just to play. I only wanted to begin by showing you how it works.

  "Now," he said, turning businesslike, "lie back down. I want to—"

  Jonas did. He was eager for whatever experience would come next. But he had, suddenly, so many questions.

  "Why dont we have snow, and sleds, and hills?" he asked. "And when did we, in the past? Did my parents have sleds when they were young? Did you?"

  The old man shrugged and gave a short laugh. "No," he told Jonas. "Its a very distant memory. Thats why it was so exhausting—I had to tug it forward from many generations back. It was given to me when I was a new Receiver, and the previous Receiver had to pull it through a long time period, too. "

  "But what happened to those things? Snow, and the rest of it?"

  "Climate Control. Snow made growing food difficult, limited the agricultural periods. And unpredictable weather made transportation almost impossible at times. It wasnt a practical thing, so it became obsolete when we went to Sameness.

  "And hills, too," he added. "They made conveyance of goods unwieldy. Trucks; buses. Slowed them down. So—" He waved his hand, as if a gesture had caused hills to disappear. "Sameness," he concluded.

  Jonas frowned. "I wish we had those things, still. Just now and then. "

  The old man smiled. "So do I," he said. "But that choice is not ours. "

  "But sir," Jonas suggested, "since you have so much power—"

  The man corrected him. "Honor," he said firmly. "I have great honor. So will you. But you will find that that is not the same as power.

  "Lie quietly now. Since weve entered into the topic of climate, let me give you something else. And this time Im not going to tell you the name of it, because I want to test the receiving. You should be able to perceive the name without being told. I gave away snow and sled and downhill and runners by telling them to you in advance. "

  Without being instructed, Jonas closed his eyes again. He felt the hands on his back again. He waited.

  Now it came more quickly, the feelings. This time the hands didnt become cold, but instead began to feel warm on his body. They moistened a little. The warmth spread, extending across his shoulders, up his neck, onto the side of his face. He could feel it through his clothed parts, too: a pleasant, all-over sensation; and when he licked his lips this time, the air was hot and heavy.

  He didnt move. There was no sled. His posture didnt change. He was simply alone someplace, out of doors, lying down, and the warmth came from far above. It was not as exciting as the ride through the snowy air; but it was pleasurable and comforting.

  Suddenly he perceived the word for it: sunshine. He perceived that it came from the sky.

  Then it ended.

  "Sunshine," he said aloud, opening his eyes.

  "Good. You did get the word. That makes my job easier. Not so much explaining. "

  "And it came from the sky. "

  "Thats right," the old man said. "Just the way it used to. "

  "Before Sameness. Before Climate Control," Jonas added.

  The man laughed. "You receive well, and learn quickly. Im very pleased with you. Thats enough for today, I think. Were off to a good start. "

  There was a question bothering Jonas. "Sir," he said, "The Chief Elder told me—she told everyone—and you told me, too, that it would be painful. So I was a little scared. But it didnt hurt at all. I really enjoyed it. " He looked quizzically at the old man.

  The man sighed. "I started you with memories of pleasure. My previous failure gave me the wisdom to do that. " He took a few deep breaths. "Jonas," he said, "it will be painful. But it need not be painful yet. "

  "Im brave. I really am. " Jonas sat up a little straighter.

  The old man looked at him for a moment. He smiled. "I can see that," he said. "Well, since you asked the question—I think I have enough energy for one more transmission.

  "Lie down once more. This will be the last today. "

  Jonas obeyed cheerfully. He closed his eyes, waiting, and felt the hands again; then he felt the warmth again, the sunshine again, coming from the sky of this other consciousness that was so new to him. This time, as he lay basking in the wonderful warmth, he felt the passage of time. His real self was aware that it was only a minute or two; but his other, memory-receiving self felt hours pass in the sun. His skin began to sting. Restlessly he moved one arm, bending it, and felt a sharp pain in the crease of his inner arm at the elbow.

  "Ouch," he said loudly, and shifted on the bed. "Owwww," he said, wincing at the shift, and even moving his mouth to speak made his face hurt.

  He knew there was a word, but the pain kept him from grasping it.

  Then it ended. He opened his eyes, wincing with discomfort. "It hurt," he told the man, "and I couldnt get the word for it. "

  "It was sunburn," the old man told him.

  "It hurt a lot," Jonas said, "but Im glad you gave it to me. It was interesting. And now I understand better, what it meant, that there would be pain. "

  The man didnt respond. He sat silently for a second. Finally he said, "Get up, now. Its time for you to go home. "

  They both walked to the center of the room. Jonas put his tunic back on. "Goodbye, sir," he said. "Thank you for my first day. "

  The old man nodded to him. He looked drained, and a little sad.

  "Sir?" Jonas said shyly.

  "Yes? Do you have a question?"

  "Its just that I dont know your name. I thought you were The Receiver, but you say that now Im The Receiver. So I dont know what to call you. "

  The man had sat back down in the comfortable upholstered chair. He moved his shoulders around as if to ease away an aching sensation. He seemed terribly weary.

  "Call me The Giver," he told Jonas.

  12

  "You slept soundly, Jonas?" his mother asked at the morning meal. "No dreams?"

  Jonas simply smiled and nodded, not ready to lie, not willing to tell the truth. "I slept very soundly," he said.

  "I wish this one would," his father said, leaning down from his chair to touch Gabriels waving fist. The basket was on the floor beside him; in its corner, beside Gabriels head, the stuffed hippo sat staring with its blank eyes.

  "So do I," Mother said, rolling her eyes. "Hes so fretful at night. "

  Jonas had not heard the newchild during the night because as always, he had slept soundly. But it was not true that he had no dreams.

  Again and again, as he slept, he had slid down that snow-covered hill. Always, in the dream, it seemed as if there were a destination: a something—he could not grasp what—that lay beyond the place where the thickness of snow brought the sled to a stop.

  He was left, upon awakening, with the feeling that he wanted, even someho
w needed, to reach the something that waited in the distance. The feeling that it was good. That it was welcoming. That it was significant.

  But he did not know how to get there.

  He tried to shed the leftover dream, gathering his schoolwork and preparing for the day.

  School seemed a little different today. The classes were the same: language and communications; commerce and industry; science and technology; civil procedures and government. But during the breaks for recreation periods and the midday meal, the other new Twelves were abuzz with descriptions of their first day of training. All of them talked at once, interrupting each other, hastily making the required apology for interrupting, then forgetting again in the excitement of describing the new experiences.

  Jonas listened. He was very aware of his own admonition not to discuss his training. But it would have been impossible, anyway. There was no way to describe to his friends what he had experienced there in the Annex room. How could you describe a sled without describing a hill and snow; and how could you describe a hill and snow to someone who had never felt height or wind or that feathery, magical cold?

  Even trained for years as they all had been in precision of language, what words could you use which would give another the experience of sunshine?

  So it was easy for Jonas to be still and to listen.

  After school hours he rode again beside Fiona to the House of the Old.

  "I looked for you yesterday," she told him, "so we could ride home together. Your bike was still there, and I waited for a little while. But it was getting late, so I went on home. "

  "I apologize for making you wait," Jonas said.

  "I accept your apology," she replied automatically.

  "I stayed a little longer than I expected," Jonas explained.

  She pedaled forward silently, and he knew that she expected him to tell her why. She expected him to describe his first day of training. But to ask would have fallen into the category of rudeness.

  "Youve been doing so many volunteer hours with the Old," Jonas said, changing the subject. "There wont be much that you dont already know. "

  "Oh, theres lots to learn," Fiona replied. "Theres administrative work, and the dietary rules, and punishment for disobedience—did you know that they use a discipline wand on the Old, the same as for small children? And theres occupational therapy, and recreational activities, and medications, and—"

  They reached the building and braked their bikes.

  "I really think Ill like it better than school," Fiona confessed.

  "Me too," Jonas agreed, wheeling his bike into its place.

  She waited for a second, as if, again, she expected him to go on. Then she looked at her watch, waved, and hurried toward the entrance.

  Jonas stood for a moment beside his bike, startled. It had happened again: the thing that he thought of now as "seeing beyond. " This time it had been Fiona who had undergone that fleeting indescribable change. As he looked up and toward her going through the door, it happened; she changed. Actually, Jonas thought, trying to recreate it in his mind, it wasnt Fiona in her entirety. It seemed to be just her hair. And just for that flickering instant.