Keeping Score
By, Ruth Anna Powell
They watch you. They record every little move you make. Then they broadcast it to the general public. Like today when I grabbed my pencil out from under my little sister in a huff they were watching and my score went down a point. I'll have to be careful. Can't let it get down too low.
You slip up, you make the least little mistake and they are onto you. Then your points go down. But accidents don't bring them up.
" Wrong must be punished. Most one does is wrong. One must try to do right."
That's part of her speech. The one at the beginning of the ear. when they reset the boards and reset everyone's view of you.
At the beginning of the year, people are numb. They don't know who they are. Right now there just a 50. A good place. Then about a week in people start to change. When the kid down the street loses ten points on the first day, people fell sorry for his parents and click their tongues at him. Then they keep shaking their heads until he reaches 0 and the authorities come to take him away. No one knows where they go, but everyone knows they don't come back.
We reset two months ago. I'm doing well, I've even gone up ten points. But the slip up this morning scares me. Too many like that and I'll know where the 0s go. My bag is packed and I'm on my way to school. I pause to look at the scoreboard. I recognize a few names of the people who have to start being more careful, there the rowdy kids at my high school. One of them was taken away this week. I continue to walk down the street, there's no bus for me, we don't have the money. No new shoes either.
A normal school day. math and grammar. Then lunch where I hide in a corner and hope the other kids don't find me and taunt my quietly when they think they aren't watching, making fun of my hair that has barely been brushed, and my clothes that are torn and stained. Then back into the building for the same history lesson as always.
Our founder was a virtuous man who hated everything wrong and ugly in this world. So he built a town, a town with a wall, and brought his family and friends into it. His wife helped him with the scoreboard and they died happy, not seeing what they had done.
But people never question the greatness of their plan. Not even me. But you can see the looks on some people's faces when they walk past the scoreboard.
I start to walk back home. I get a few glances, a couple of people say hello, but mostly I'm just a 60. Not a person to pay attention to. Not a person who might be gone soon.
One of the people to stop and say hello is a friend from school, Clara. When Clara walks past people take notice. But not because she's losing points. No, Clara was a 90. She's the girl who parents point out to their kids, urging them to be like her. Most kids these days must be convinced she's never done a wrong deed in her life.
We talk for a minute. The scoreboard doesn't come up. It never does. Neither do the people who disappear. These subjects are off-limits. Mentioning the scares people. And they have a point. After all, they are always watching.
Night. I decide to take a walk, and my parents don't object. Crime is checked here, no one would even think of stealing of murder for fear of the scoreboards, it's nice outside on the porch. I step down the stairs being careful not to step on the broken one I could crack through. I walk down the street breathing in the sweet air that almost tastes good. It's going to rain, I can smell it. Something is glowing in the distance and I walk towards it.
The bakery is on fire. Most people stand back and watch, but some people run inside and bring out refills of bread, saving them from the fire. Clara is among those people. Suddenly I see something glinting in the fire. The corner of a money box is sticking out from under a fallen beam. I look around, no one is watching. I walk in and grab the box. I hide it under my jacket and back out. No one saw me. I sigh and head for home with the box, not bothering to check the scoreboard. I am safe.
They come for me in the morning. My score has dropped and they have come to take me away. I say goodbye to my parents and my little sister and step into the back of the truck, silently cursing myself. I left the box where my parents could find it. They could find out what to do with it.
The road is long and bumpy. I wonder where we are going, but I am alone in the back of the truck, and there is no one to ask. After hours of bouncing up and down the car stops and I get out. There are guards there wearing the same smile she does every year during her speech. They walk me into the building and into a smaller white room where a few more guards are standing. I walk in and they shut the door behind me. I take a look around the room. The walls are lined with guns and a blindfold is sitting on a small table in the middle of the room. Suddenly I know why they don't come back.
The End
By, Ruth Anna Powell
They watch you. They record every little move you make. Then they broadcast it to the general public. Like today when I grabbed my pencil out from under my little sister in a huff they were watching and my score went down a point. I'll have to be careful. Can't let it get down too low.
You slip up, you make the least little mistake and they are onto you. Then your points go down. But accidents don't bring them up.
" Wrong must be punished. Most one does is wrong. One must try to do right."
That's part of her speech. The one at the beginning of the ear. when they reset the boards and reset everyone's view of you.
At the beginning of the year, people are numb. They don't know who they are. Right now there just a 50. A good place. Then about a week in people start to change. When the kid down the street loses ten points on the first day, people fell sorry for his parents and click their tongues at him. Then they keep shaking their heads until he reaches 0 and the authorities come to take him away. No one knows where they go, but everyone knows they don't come back.
We reset two months ago. I'm doing well, I've even gone up ten points. But the slip up this morning scares me. Too many like that and I'll know where the 0s go. My bag is packed and I'm on my way to school. I pause to look at the scoreboard. I recognize a few names of the people who have to start being more careful, there the rowdy kids at my high school. One of them was taken away this week. I continue to walk down the street, there's no bus for me, we don't have the money. No new shoes either.
A normal school day. math and grammar. Then lunch where I hide in a corner and hope the other kids don't find me and taunt my quietly when they think they aren't watching, making fun of my hair that has barely been brushed, and my clothes that are torn and stained. Then back into the building for the same history lesson as always.
Our founder was a virtuous man who hated everything wrong and ugly in this world. So he built a town, a town with a wall, and brought his family and friends into it. His wife helped him with the scoreboard and they died happy, not seeing what they had done.
But people never question the greatness of their plan. Not even me. But you can see the looks on some people's faces when they walk past the scoreboard.
I start to walk back home. I get a few glances, a couple of people say hello, but mostly I'm just a 60. Not a person to pay attention to. Not a person who might be gone soon.
One of the people to stop and say hello is a friend from school, Clara. When Clara walks past people take notice. But not because she's losing points. No, Clara was a 90. She's the girl who parents point out to their kids, urging them to be like her. Most kids these days must be convinced she's never done a wrong deed in her life.
We talk for a minute. The scoreboard doesn't come up. It never does. Neither do the people who disappear. These subjects are off-limits. Mentioning the scares people. And they have a point. After all, they are always watching.
Night. I decide to take a walk, and my parents don't object. Crime is checked here, no one would even think of stealing of murder for fear of the scoreboards, it's nice outside on the porch. I step down the stairs being careful not to step on the broken one I could crack through. I walk down the street breathing in the sweet air that almost tastes good. It's going to rain, I can smell it. Something is glowing in the distance and I walk towards it.
The bakery is on fire. Most people stand back and watch, but some people run inside and bring out refills of bread, saving them from the fire. Clara is among those people. Suddenly I see something glinting in the fire. The corner of a money box is sticking out from under a fallen beam. I look around, no one is watching. I walk in and grab the box. I hide it under my jacket and back out. No one saw me. I sigh and head for home with the box, not bothering to check the scoreboard. I am safe.
They come for me in the morning. My score has dropped and they have come to take me away. I say goodbye to my parents and my little sister and step into the back of the truck, silently cursing myself. I left the box where my parents could find it. They could find out what to do with it.
The road is long and bumpy. I wonder where we are going, but I am alone in the back of the truck, and there is no one to ask. After hours of bouncing up and down the car stops and I get out. There are guards there wearing the same smile she does every year during her speech. They walk me into the building and into a smaller white room where a few more guards are standing. I walk in and they shut the door behind me. I take a look around the room. The walls are lined with guns and a blindfold is sitting on a small table in the middle of the room. Suddenly I know why they don't come back.
The End
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