The Happiest Day of Their Life

Oh what a glorious occasion. Today is a day of wonderment. Our place in the divine order is confirmed today………

A celebratory tune filled the streets for miles around. Words filled minds with amazement while the jaunty tune a childlike gayness of the spirit. 

The Ceremony of Alignment came but once every fifty years. But the preparations took up the preceding quarter of a century. The preparations began with the selection process, not of the poor unfortunate soul who will become the main attraction, but of the mother. The message with the specifics was left at the conclusion of the previous Ceremony of Alignment and the mother to be at her maturity and peak of fertility by the time the selection process began, for in a world of plummeting birth rates the average of a new mother was firmly nestled in the midst of the fourth decade of life. This of course meant the developed world where the population was better educated, financially conscious, and had access to all the tools necessary to raise a universal model of success. The world’s poorer and conflict-ridden regions have long since been left to decay and ruin, with immigration and emigration at a standstill. Nobody kept track of those places anymore and their exclusion made the job of The Searchers easier.

The Searchers had been given five criteria.

1. She would have hair the color of faded sable.
2. In her youth she would thrive, but tragedy would make her bitter in middle age
3. Her lover would be the same as a phantom in the night and so she would dwell alone
4. Her genetic roots would begin in the steppes and end in the lands of the East.
5. She would go quietly and without an ounce of resistance

It had taken The Searchers some six years to narrow down the location of the mother and according to the criteria, she had not resisted in the least. Still, four more women who marginally fit the criteria had been taken for good measure. Not one of the others went quietly.

Removed from their homes, extricated from their communities, and erased from data bases as if they had never existed.

What happened to the mothers in the nineteen years before the Ceremony of Alignment was unknown to those outside of the Bureau of Unity and nobody wanted to find out. The chosen women simply went away, stripped of their identities, and never mentioned by name again.

Year 2950 was rumored to be the oldest mother yet.

Unfortunately she originated from the hinterlands, where her birth had never been properly registered in accordance with the regulations of the Bureau of Unity. 

The first thing that spectators noticed as the arrived at the 59th Ceremony of Alignment was that Year 2950 did her hair in the old style with her long hair in a single plait that had been coiled and pinned to the nape of her neck. For the occasion, white and black velvet ribbons were woven into the freshly washed tresses. She looked tired as anyone would expect a new mother of less than two months to be. It was easy to tell that she had never been a big woman, because the black mother’s gown threatened to swallow her whole despite adjustments. Like all the others before her she sat on the raised platform upon a great spiral stage, the center of attention as a lucky 10,000 of the capital region's 20,000,000 residents filled the Stadium of Occasions.

They were selected randomly according to their registration numbers, and their eligibility to attend anything chosen in the same way as everything else in their lives, a closely guarded algorithm. All of their most basic needs were met, always met, but nothing extra, not an iota more was guaranteed. 

For this reason, it was truly a marvellous occasion and the Chosen Ones had chosen their garments month in advance. A sea of brilliant reds, luscious purples, and stunning oranges streamed into the Stadium of Occasions. To enter the Stadium of Occasions, they simply held extended their right arms with palm turned up so that the script microimprinted on their inner wrist could be clearly scanned. It was a simple tap and go as it was in the olden days when people still carried bulky devices practically glued to their palms with them everywhere they went. Each code was unique, as unique as the hair ornaments that adorned most heads, courtesy of the Overseers’ Network. As the ticket to all that was good and welcoming about the rule of the Overseers’ Network, the tattoo’s presence was not questioned, from creation to decommission. 

As the 10,000 Chosen Ones took their places not one of them addressed the elephant in the room.

What exactly does it mean to be chosen? 

Like many things, no one knew and no one dared to ask.

Some six months before, they had all awakened in their individual dwellings just like any other morning. And as their sleeping platforms slowly lowered to the floor, they had found the usual good morning message replaced by an invitation. YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN. YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUIRED AT THE HAPPIEST DAY OF YOUR LIFE. THE CEREMONY OF ALIGNMENT WILL SOON BE HERE!!! So, while their identifiers glowed and changed colors, going from nondescript navy to neon orange the Chosen Ones had chosen their garments and become the talk of the community.

A question whispered amongst the older ones but never loud enough to be heard by the Chosen Ones.

What became of those who were summoned for the once in a generation opportunity? To those who entered the Stadium of Occasions but did not come back? 

Now settled into their seats, the Chosen Ones were treated to scenes from the mother’s tragic tale. Any minute anxiety or curiosity for themselves was immediately lost.  Her impoverished beginning in the hinterlands, her family’s illegal migration to the dominion of the Overseers’ Network in the east, her hardscrapple existence in an uncharted slum, and the lover in the shadows that left her around five months before the Searchers appeared to take her away. 

Oh what a glorious occasion. Today is a day of wonderment. Our place in the divine order is confirmed today………the planets are in perfect synchrony, the frequency is just right, from the world beyond what we can see, we’ve received so many blessings. The time is now! Today we show our thanks. From our ranks we have chosen those who will sacrifice themselves so that our way of life remains so wondrous.

The song grew louder, the tune jauntier, and surrounded the Chosen Ones invading their minds. It served as an anesthetic, a smooth transition from a conscious existence to one beyond what any human mind could fathom. Before their lightless eyes, the main spectacle unfolded.

The mother was joined onstage by her offspring, by her daughter full grown and healthy. From above a voice reverberated. “Mother of Mothers 2950, it is time to answer the ancient question. Are you ready?”

A curt nod.

“One in exchange 10,000. Do you choose to preserve the fruit of your loins and take the fate of the 59th obliterated generation into your hands? Or do you choose to be eternally parted from your child for the greater good and live out your remaining years in obscurity?” The voice asked. 

Year 2950 did not even spare a glance.

“I choose the same as 57 out of my 58 predecessors. In this world, all women only get one.”