Fragile Immortality

"The first Charity would never have eaten that," my Rep. warns me. His voice is clear, calm, and authoritative as usual. My hand is still extended toward a jar of green peas. How I would love to know what green peas taste like. I lower my hand back onto the yellow cart handle.

"Perhaps carrots instead?" I look towards my Rep for approval. His cold blue eyes meet my dark brown ones. The red of his suit compared to the paleness of his skin makes him look somewhat menacing. All Reps wear red to be seen; their presence is never to be forgotten.

I push my cart further down the aisle of canned food. My skirt tickles just above my ankle as I walk. It feels strange against my nude stockings. My top is a yellow button-up; the color is more subdued compared to the color of the shopping cart. My black heels clack across the checked floor as I search for the canned carrots.

Rep. 307's Oxford shoes clack across the floor as well. He falls into step beside me as if he were my shadow.

When I reach the cans of carrots, I place one can into my cart. As I'm reaching for another, I hear a different set of heels. A woman with red, loosely curled hair turns in my Aisle. She pushes a baby blue cart past me. I smile as she passes, but she doesn't look my way. Instead, her Rep shoots me an aggravated look.

"Charity, you shouldn't do things like that. The first Charity was shy and reserved; she'd never smile at a stranger," snapped Rep. 307.

"I'm lonely, Rep. Why can't I make friends?" I complain. I'd never admit it outright, but I'm an outgoing person. I think he already knows that.

"Loneliness is a good trait; it's what the first Charity often felt." Rep. 307 put a hand on my cart, nudging me to keep moving. We still had items to buy.

"Too much loneliness is painful, "I say quietly enough that I can barely hear myself. Rep. 307 doesn't hear; he just pushes the shopping cart forward.

We turn towards the dairy section next. I walk over to pick up a gallon of milk, but Rep. 307 stops me.

"That's not lactose-free," He says plainly.

"I'm not lactose intolerant," I say while clutching the milk close to my chest. Rep. 307 pulls out a small white device from his pocket. A pin is attached to the side, and it's about the size of his hand. He snatches the pin off and begins to scribble something in messy handwriting.

"What are you doing?" I ask, concerned.

"I'm writing my senator to let them know that you need lactose pills," He explains while continuing to write his letter.

"I don't need pills, I just told you I'm not allergic to lactose." The milk is starting to feel heavy in my arms.

"The pills are not to help lactose tolerance; they are to make you lactose intolerant. Don't tell me you've been living in Old America for twenty-one years and you've never had to take a trait pill." Both of Rep. 307's brows are furrowed, and I can't tell if he's genuinely confused or if he finds me stupid.

"No...I've only known you since I was thirteen, that's when society assigns Reps. You've never given me a trait pill," I snap back. Rep. 307 and I are the same age, but he often acts like we're decades apart. Maybe it's because his mind contains knowledge that I'm not permitted to know. He feels a sense of superiority over me.

"That's because you've changed. You used to study the first Charity, constantly striving to be more like her, but now you hardly pick up her biography. It makes things hard for me. Have you even started volume 3?" He says angrily while snatching the milk carton from my hands.

"Not yet," I grab at the corner of my skirt,t wanting the scolding to end.

"That explains why you don't know that she developed an allergy to lactose, but all other dietary restrictions you should already know about.t" Rep. 307 looks around self-consciously. Such a public display of aggression could get him written up. Luckily, the Authority doesn't patrol supermarkets often. They mostly patrol streets and attend to calls of emergency calls.

"You don't understand how hard it is---" I start, but am abruptly cut off.

"Maybe if you did the readings, it wouldn't be this hard. I am assigned to you as a sort of chaperone. If you have questions, I will answer them. If you make little mistakes, I correct them, but I can't do everything for you. You have to try to be Charity, you have to believe in our country's motto: The Good must stay Good. Charity was a good person, so now you have to be her. Heaven knows who you really are, and quite frankly, I don't care. If you were not assigned Charity at birth, u would be a scourge to humanity. You'd probably be a thief or a liar because the bad stay bad." Rep. 307 whispers this. His face finally gains some color do to the anger her feels.

"What if I am a good person. What if I, individually, am a good person?" I say between gritted teeth. Staying quiet is so difficult; it's not in my blood.

"That's treason. All people would live bad lives had the Democracy not changed things. They chose the best people who lived the best lives and created this world. A world without suffering, a place where you can be happy. We follow our assigned lives because it's easy. You don't even have to think for yourself; you think as someone else. You live someone else's life." Rep. 307 is very close to me and very upset.

What about you? How do you fit into this world? You don't have an assigned name or story. How do I know that you're not bad?" I fold my arms, confident that he won't be able to respond.

"I'm a Representative, formally known by the Democracy as a catalyst. You're guardian of sorts...an example of pure good and selflessness." He explains while smirking.

"Catalysts aren't given names by the Democracy?" I ask.

"I don't need a name, I'm supposed to be visible and invisible at the same time. No one will even know I existed or that I was ever alive except for you." His smirk drops into a frown when he says "you" like he regrets that I'm the only person who will keep my memory of him.

"So you don't have parents?" I take hold of the yellow shopping cart and start pushing it again.

"I don't know." He states dryly.

"You deserve a name. You deserve to be more than a Catalyst. If Democracy never existed, you could have a life. You could make a story for yourself. It might be good or it might be bad, but at least it would be yours," I say to him.

He doesn't reply until we get to the self-checkout line. He leans in close to me, and I feel his breath in my ear.

"What you said is a lie. If I had free rein over my life, I'd probably be a villain, and so would you. There wouldn't be even an ounce of good inside either of us had the Democracy not put it there."

"How do you know?" I feel my heart beating faster. Suddenly, I feel fearful of the man I have to spend almost every second of the day near.

"Only the wicked ask questions. Only the corrupted seek to ruin a perfect world."

"If we were perfect, we wouldn't notice our own imperfections, but we do,d we must not be perfect." I look into his blue eyes, and for once, I see shadows and a sense of deep emotion. His eyes look like the ocean instead of a cold, blue space filled with nothingness.

"Don't ever say something like that again, Charity, I mean it. So long as you live and breathe." Rep. 307 breaks eye contact to bag groceries. His hands shake with anger. An emotion that's publicly forbidden for all Reps. A display that could get him severely punished if anyone were to report it.

"Let me help you."

"No I don't need—." Rep's words are cut short as I grab his trembling hand.

"Don't make a scene."

Rep nods. He takes a deep breath and lets me hold his hand. After a few seconds, he shakes my hand off of his.

"Prolonged physical touch between a rep and a Carnation is forbidden. You should know that." He says the word "carnation" like it's separate words "Carn-nation".

"Ah, he rebooted," I tease.

"If I had a sense of humor, I'd laugh, but I don't, so let's finish paying for these groceries and head home. The banquet is tomorrow, and you need to go right to bed."

Rep and I exited the store quickly and headed to my green Porsche. After loading everything in the truck, Rep drove us home.

I'd forgotten all about the banquet. It marked the start of a terrible week. The week Rep never mentioned to me, but I was never allowed to leave the house during it. I was told to stay inside and focus on Charity's skills.

Charity was a boring woman, and I'm cursed with a brilliant mind.