The Declaration

Grange Hall. Mrs Pincent saw to that.
    For the rest of the day, Anna applied herself to her training sessions and chores in a way that would have made Mrs Pincent proud. She polished the floor of her dormitory, and then polished the corridor outside just for good measure. She was at Central Feeding early to help prepare that evening’s feed, and didn’t even roll her eyes when she was given the meat to prepare. As a Prefect, meat preparation was a job she was well within her rights to delegate to a younger Surplus. It was a lowly job, made harder by the fact that the kitchen knives were so blunt they barely scratched the surface of the rubbery, gristle-filled flesh they were given once a week, offcuts from the local maximarket where Legals bought their food. Instead, she performed a thorough job of boning and chopping, and all the while, she was practising being invisible, keeping her eyes lowered and her feet light. And as she worked, she focused her mind on the task at hand by repeating Evening Vows to herself.
    I vow to serve, to pay my dues
And train myself for Legal use.
I vow to bear the Surplus shame
And repay Nature for the same
I vow to listen, not to speak;
To steel myself when I am weak.
I vow to work and most of all
To serve the State if it should call.
    Evening Vows were said every night before bedtime. They reminded Surpluses of their Place in life, Mrs Pincent said. Not that Surpluses could have a purpose, not really; that would suggest they had a reason for existing, when they didn’t. But it gave them a sense of what they were to do with their lives, of how they were to pay Mother Nature and the State back for looking after them, when really they should have been tossed back where they came from.
    Anna could never really understand how that would work; where would they be tossed back to? But she didn’t ask, just in case Mrs Pincent decided to show her.
    She frowned, and stood up to put the prepared meat in the large vat for cooking.
    But as she did so, she felt someone coming up behind her, and turned suddenly, to see the face of Surplus Charlie just a foot away from hers. Surplus Charlie was also a Prefect, but where Anna exercised her authority through firm words, a belief in rules and a much talked about closeness with Mrs Pincent, Charlie’s authority stemmed primarily from his size. At fifteen, he wasn’t particularly tall for his age, but what he lacked in height he made up for in bulk, partly because of a natural muscularity, and partly because he regularly commandeered the food from other boys at his table, who would readily give up their bread or broth in spite of their hollow, aching stomachs because the alternative was far worse than hunger. Charlie could torment a boy until he no longer had bladder control; could dole out such horrific punishments that Solitary seemed a welcome respite.
    Today, his face was swollen, something that Anna had registered in Decorum, but hadn’t dwelt on. Surpluses regularly sported bruises and cuts – the result of punishments, fights and games. No one asked why a cheek was red or a hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage, and unless the injury was very serious, no treatment was ever sought – or given. Only on very rare occasions was a doctor sent for. It had only happened twice during Anna’s time at Grange Hall, once for a boy who broke his leg in several places during a game, and once when a new Surplus had a fever. Illness was feared by Surpluses. Without Longevity drugs, they were vulnerable to any number of viruses and ailments, but few admitted their discomfort until it was absolutely necessary; Mrs Pincent had made it clear many times that sickness was a sign of weakness. Illness suggested that Mother Nature didn’t think you’d ever be Useful and wanted to ‘weed you out early’.
    That’s what had happened to the new Surplus. She had something called a fever and she died, in the end. Bad genes, Mrs Pincent told Anna a few weeks later. It was ‘for the best’.
    Anna looked briefly at Charlie. His lip was bloody and his left eye was barely visible, hidden behind the cheek that had inflated protectively around it. It was odd, Anna thought to herself, slightly nervously, how Charlie looked even more threatening when he was injured.
    ‘So now I know who to blame if the meat’s ruined,’ Charlie said sneeringly as Anna narrowed her eyes at him.
    ‘What do you want, Surplus Charlie? You shouldn’t be in the kitchen,’ she said,