Kitabı oku: «The Elite»
COPYRIGHT
First published in the USA by HarperTeen,
an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. in 2013
First published in paperback in Great Britain by
HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2013
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
The Elite
Copyright © 2013 by Kiera Cass
Kiera Cass asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
ISBN: 978-0-00-746670-2
Ebook Edition © MARCH 2013 ISBN: 9780007466733
Version: 2015-12-09
Call out the servants! The queen is awake!
(For Mom)
CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ALSO BY KIERA CASS
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
THE ANGELES AIR WAS QUIET, and for a while I lay still, listening to the sound of Maxon’s breathing. It was getting harder and harder to catch him in a truly calm and happy moment, and I soaked up the time, grateful that he seemed to be at his best when he and I were alone.
Ever since the Selection had been narrowed down to six girls, he’d been more anxious than he was when the thirty-five of us arrived in the first place. I guessed he thought he’d have more time to make his choices. And though it made me feel guilty to admit it, I knew I was the reason why he wished he did.
Prince Maxon, heir to the Illéa throne, liked me. He’d told me a week ago that if I could simply say that I cared for him the way he did for me, without anything holding me back, this whole competition would be over. And sometimes I played with the idea, wondering how it would feel to be Maxon’s alone.
But the thing was, Maxon wasn’t really mine to begin with. There were five other girls here—girls he took on dates and whispered things to—and I didn’t know what to make of that. And then there was the fact that if I accepted Maxon, it meant I had to accept a crown, a thought I tended to ignore if only because I wasn’t sure what it would mean for me.
And, of course, there was Aspen.
He wasn’t technically my boyfriend anymore—he’d broken up with me before my name was even drawn for the Selection—but when he showed up at the palace as one of the guards, all the feelings I’d been trying to let go of flooded my heart. Aspen was my first love; when I looked at him . . . I was his.
Maxon didn’t know that Aspen was in the palace, but he did know that there was someone at home that I was trying to get over, and he was graciously giving me time to move on while attempting to find someone else he’d be happy with in the event I couldn’t ever love him.
As he moved his head, inhaling just above my hairline, I considered it. What would it be like to simply love Maxon?
“Do you know when the last time was that I really looked at the stars?” he asked.
I settled closer to him on our blanket, trying to keep warm in the cool Angeles night. “No idea.”
“A tutor had me studying astronomy a few years ago. If you look closely, you can tell that the stars are actually different colors.”
“Wait, the last time you looked at the stars was to study them? What about for fun?”
He chuckled. “Fun. I’ll have to pencil in some between the budget consultations and infrastructure committee meetings. Oh, and war strategizing, which, by the way, I am terrible at.”
“What else are you terrible at?” I asked, running my hand across his starched shirt. Encouraged by the touch, Maxon drew circles on my shoulder with the hand he had wrapped behind my back.
“Why would you want to know that?” he asked in mock irritation.
“Because I still know so little about you. And you seem perfect all the time. It’s nice to have proof you’re not.”
He propped himself up on an elbow, focusing on my face. “You know I’m not.”
“Pretty close,” I countered. Little flickers of touch ran between us. Knees, arms, fingers.
He shook his head, a small smile on his face. “Okay, then. I can’t plan wars. I’m rotten at it. And I’m guessing I’d be a terrible cook. I’ve never tried, so—”
“Never?”
“You might have noticed the teams of people keeping you up to your neck in pastries? They happen to feed me as well.”
I giggled. I helped cook practically every meal at home. “More,” I demanded. “What else are you bad at?”
He held me close, his brown eyes bright with a secret. “Recently I’ve discovered this one thing. . . .”
“Tell.”
“It turns out I’m absolutely terrible at staying away from you. It’s a very serious problem.”
I smiled. “Have you really tried?”
He pretended to think about it. “Well, no. And don’t expect me to start.”
We laughed quietly, holding on to each other. In these moments, it was so easy to picture this being the rest of my life.
The rustle of leaves and grass announced that someone was coming. Even though our date was completely acceptable, I felt a little embarrassed and sat up quickly. Maxon followed suit as a guard made his way around the hedge to us.
“Your Majesty,” he said with a bow. “Sorry to intrude, sir, but it’s really unwise to stay out this late for so long. The rebels could—”
“Understood,” Maxon said with a sigh. “We’ll be right in.”
The guard left us alone, and Maxon turned back to me. “Another fault of mine: I’m losing patience with the rebels. I’m tired of dealing with them.”
He stood and offered me his hand. I took it, watching the sad frustration in his eyes. We’d been attacked twice by the rebels since the start of the Selection—once by the simply disruptive Northerners and once by the deadly Southerners—and even with my brief experience, I could understand his exhaustion.
Maxon was picking up the blanket and shaking it out, clearly not happy that our night had been cut short.
“Hey,” I said, urging him to face me. “I had fun.”
He nodded.
“No, really,” I said, walking over to him. He moved the blanket to one hand to wrap his free arm around me. “We should do it again sometime. You can tell me which stars are which colors, because I seriously can’t tell.”
Maxon gave me a sad smile. “I wish things were easier sometimes, normal.”
I moved so I could wrap my arms around him, and as I did so, Maxon dropped the blanket to return the gesture. “I hate to break it to you, Your Majesty, but even without the guards, you’re far from normal.”
His expression lightened a bit but was still serious. “You’d like me more if I was.”
“I know you find it hard to believe, but I really do like you the way you are. I just need more—”
“Time. I know. And I’m prepared to give you that. I only wish I knew that you’d actually want to be with me when that time was over.”
I looked away. That wasn’t something I could promise. I weighed Maxon and Aspen in my heart over and over, and neither of them ever had a true edge. Except, maybe, when I was alone with one of them. Because, at that moment, I was tempted to promise Maxon that I would be there for him in the end.
But I couldn’t.
“Maxon,” I whispered, seeing how dejected he looked at my lack of an answer. “I can’t tell you that. But what I can tell you is that I want to be here. I want to know if there’s a possibility for . . . for . . .” I stammered, not sure how to put it.
“Us?” Maxon guessed.
I smiled, happy at how easily he understood me. “Yes. I want to know if there’s a possibility for us to be an us.”
He moved a lock of hair behind my shoulder. “I think the odds are very high,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I think so, too. Just . . . time, okay?”
He nodded, looking happier. This was how I wanted to end our night, with hope. Well, and maybe one more thing. I bit my lip and leaned into Maxon, asking with my eyes.
Without a second of hesitation, he bent to kiss me. It was warm and gentle, and it left me feeling adored and somehow aching for more. I could have stayed there for hours, just to see if I could get enough of that feeling; but too soon, Maxon backed away.
“Let’s go,” he said in a playful tone, pulling me toward the palace. “Better get inside before the guards come for us on horseback with spears drawn.”
As Maxon left me at the stairs, the tiredness hit me like a wall. I was practically dragging myself up to the second floor and around the corner to my room when, suddenly, I was quite awake again.
“Oh!” Aspen said, surprised to see me, too. “I think it makes me the worst guard ever that I assumed you were in your room this whole time.”
I giggled. The Elite were supposed to sleep with at least one of their maids on watch in the night. I really didn’t like that, so Maxon insisted on stationing a guard by my room in case there was an emergency. The thing was, most of the time that guard was Aspen. It was a strange mix of exhilaration and terror knowing that nearly every night he was right outside my door.
The lightness of the moment faded quickly as Aspen grasped what it meant that I hadn’t been safely tucked in my bed. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“Did you have a good time?”
“Aspen,” I whispered, looking to make sure no one was around. “Don’t be upset. I’m part of the Selection, and this is just how it is.”
“How am I supposed to stand a chance, Mer? How can I compete when you only ever talk to one of us?” He made a good point, but what could I do?
“Please don’t be mad at me, Aspen. I’m trying to figure all this out.”
“No, Mer,” he said, gentleness returning to his voice. “I’m not mad at you. I miss you.” He didn’t dare say the words aloud, but he mouthed them. I love you.
I melted.
“I know,” I said, placing a hand on his chest, letting myself forget for a moment all that we were risking. “But that doesn’t change where we are or that I’m an Elite now. I need time, Aspen.”
He reached up to hold my hand in his and nodded. “I can give you that. Just . . . try to find some time for me, too.”
I didn’t want to bring up how complicated that would be, so I gave him a tiny smile before gently pulling my hand away. “I need to go.”
He watched me as I walked into my room and shut the door behind me.
Time. I was asking for a lot of it these days. I hoped that if I had enough, everything would somehow fall into place.
“NO, NO,” QUEEN AMBERLY ANSWERED with a laugh. “I only had three bridesmaids, though Clarkson’s mother suggested I have more. I just wanted my sisters and my best friend, who, coincidentally, I’d met during my Selection.”
I peeked over at Marlee and was happy to find she was looking at me, too. Before I arrived at the palace, I had assumed that with this being such a high-stakes competition, there’d be no way any of the girls would be friendly. Marlee had embraced me the first time we met, and we’d been there for each other from that moment on. With a single almost-exception, we’d never even had an argument.
A few weeks ago, Marlee had mentioned that she didn’t think she wanted to be with Maxon. When I’d pushed her to explain, she clammed up. She wasn’t mad at me, I knew that, but those days of silence before we’d let it go were lonely.
“I want seven bridesmaids,” Kriss said. “I mean, if Maxon chooses me and I get to have a big wedding.”
“Well, I won’t have bridesmaids,” Celeste said, countering Kriss. “They’re just distracting. And since it would be televised, I want all eyes on me.”
I fumed. It was rare that we all got to sit and talk with Queen Amberly, and here Celeste was, being a brat and ruining it.
“I’d want to incorporate some of my culture’s traditions into my wedding,” Elise added quietly. “Girls back in New Asia use a lot of red in their ceremonies, and the groom has to bring gifts to the bride’s friends to reward them for letting her marry him.”
Kriss piped up. “Remind me to be in your wedding party. I love presents!”
“Me, too!” Marlee exclaimed.
“Lady America, you’ve been awfully quiet,” Queen Amberly said. “What do you want at your wedding?”
I blushed because I was completely unprepared to comment.
There was only one wedding I’d ever imagined, and it was going to take place at the Province of Carolina Services Office after an exhausting amount of paperwork.
“Well, the one thing I’ve thought about is having my dad give me away. You know when he takes your hand and puts it in the hand of the person you marry? That’s the only part I’ve ever really wanted.” Embarrassingly enough, it was true.
“But everyone does that,” Celeste complained. “That’s not even original.”
I should have been mad that she called me out, but I merely shrugged. “I want to know that my dad completely approves of my choice on the day it really matters.”
“That’s nice,” Natalie said, sipping her tea and looking out the window.
Queen Amberly laughed lightly. “I certainly hope he approves. No matter who it is.” She added the last words quickly, catching herself in the middle of implying that Maxon would be my choice.
I wondered if she thought that, if Maxon had told her about us.
Shortly after, the wedding talk died down, and the queen left to go work in her room. Celeste parked herself in front of the large television embedded in the wall, and the others started a card game.
“That was fun,” Marlee said as we settled in at a table together. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard the queen talk so much.”
“She’s getting excited, I think.” I hadn’t mentioned to anyone what Maxon’s aunt had told me about how Queen Amberly tried many times for another child and failed. Adele had predicted that her sister would warm up to us once the group was smaller, and she was right.
“Okay, you have to tell me: Do you honestly not have any other plans for your wedding or did you just not want to share?”
“I really don’t,” I promised. “I have a hard time picturing a big wedding, you know? I’m a Five.”
Marlee shook her head. “You were a Five. You’re a Three now.”
“Right,” I said, remembering my new label.
I was born into a family of Fives—artists and musicians who were generally poorly paid—and though I hated the caste system in general, I liked what I did for a living. It was strange to think of myself as a Three, to consider embracing teaching or writing as a profession.
“Stop stressing,” Marlee said, reading my face. “You don’t have anything to worry about yet.”
I was about to protest but was interrupted by a cry from Celeste.
“Come on!” she yelled, slamming the remote against the couch before pointing it at the television again. “Ugh!”
“Is it just me or is she getting worse?” I whispered to Marlee. We watched as Celeste hit the remote over and over before giving up and going to change the channel manually. I guessed if I had grown up as a Two, that would be something worth getting worked up over.
“It’s the stress, I think,” Marlee commented. “Have you noticed that Natalie’s getting, I don’t know . . . more aloof?”
I nodded, and we both looked over to the trio of girls playing their card game. Kriss was smiling as she shuffled, but Natalie was examining the ends of her hair, occasionally pulling out a strand she didn’t seem to like. Her expression was distracted.
“I think we’re all starting to feel it,” I confessed. “It’s harder to sit back and enjoy the palace now that the group is so small.”
Celeste grunted, and we peeked over at her but quickly averted our eyes when she caught us looking.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Marlee said, shifting in her seat. “I think I’m going to go to the bathroom.”
“I was just thinking the same thing. Do you want to go together?” I offered.
Smiling, she shook her head. “You go ahead. I’ll finish my tea first.”
“Okay. I’ll be back.”
I left the Women’s Room, taking my time walking down the gorgeous hallway. I wasn’t sure I would ever get over how spectacular it was here. I was so distracted that I ran smack into a guard as I turned the corner.
“Oh!” I said.
“Pardon me, miss. Hope I didn’t startle you.” He held me by my elbows, helping me regain my footing.
“No,” I said, giggling. “It’s fine. I should have been watching where I was going. Thanks for catching me. Officer . . .”
“Woodwork,” he answered, giving me a quick bow.
“I’m America.”
“I know.”
I smiled and rolled my eyes. Of course he knew.
“Well, I hope the next time I run into you, it won’t be quite so literal,” I joked.
He chuckled. “Agreed. Have a nice day, miss.”
“You, too.”
I told Marlee about my embarrassing run-in with Officer Woodwork when I got back and warned her to watch her step. She laughed at me and shook her head.
We spent the rest of the afternoon sitting by the windows, chatting about home and the other girls as we drank in the sunshine.
It was sad to think about the future just then. Eventually the Selection would be over, and while I knew Marlee and I would still be close, I would miss talking to her every day. She was the first real friend I’d ever made, and I wished I could keep her beside me all the time.
As I tried to stay in the moment, Marlee gazed dreamily out the window. I wondered what she was thinking about; but everything was so peaceful, I didn’t ask.
THE WIDE DOORS OF MY balcony were open, as well as the one to the hallway, and my room was filled with the warm, sweet air blowing in from the gardens. I had hoped the soft breezes would be a consolation for the fact that I had so much work to do. Instead they distracted me, making me ache to be anywhere but stuck at my desk.
I sighed and reclined in my seat, letting my head drape over the back of the chair. “Anne,” I called.
“Yes, miss?” my head maid answered from the corner where she was sewing. Without looking, I knew that Mary and Lucy, my other two maids, had perked up, waiting to see if they could serve me as well.
“I command you to figure out what this report means,” I said, pointing a lazy arm at the detailed account on military statistics that sat in front of me. It was a task that all the Elite would be tested on, but I couldn’t bring myself to focus on it.
My three maids laughed, probably from both the ridiculousness of my demand and the fact that I’d issued one at all. I wouldn’t have called leadership one of my strong suits.
“I’m sorry, my lady, but I think that might be overstepping my boundaries,” Anne answered. Even though my request was a joke and her answer was, too, I could hear the genuine apology in her voice for not being able to help me.
“Fine.” I moaned, heaving myself into an upright position. “I’ll simply have to do it myself. The whole lot of you are worthless. I’m getting new maids tomorrow. This time I mean it.”
They all chuckled again, and I focused on the numbers one more time. I was getting the impression that this was a bad report, but I couldn’t be sure. I reread paragraphs and charts, furrowing my brow and biting the back of my pen as I tried to concentrate.
I heard Lucy laugh quietly, and I looked up to see what she was so amused by, following her eyes to the door. There, leaning against the frame, was Maxon.
“You gave me away!” he complained to Lucy, who continued to snicker.
I pushed back my chair in a rush and ran into his arms. “You read my mind!”
“Did I?”
“Please tell me we can go outside. Just for a little while?” He smiled. “I have twenty minutes before I have to be back.”
I pulled him down the hall, the excited chatter of my maids fading behind us.
There was no denying the gardens had become our place. Almost every chance we got to be alone, we came out here. It was such a stark contrast to how I used to spend my time with Aspen: holed up in the tiny tree house in my backyard, the only place we could be together safely.
Suddenly I wondered if Aspen was around somewhere, indistinguishable from the numerous guards in the palace, watching as Maxon held my hand.
“What are these?” Maxon asked, brushing across the tips of my fingers as we walked.
“Calluses. They’re from pressing down on violin strings four hours a day.”
“I’ve never noticed them before.”
“Do they bother you?” I was the lowest caste of the six girls left, and I doubted any of them had hands like mine.
Maxon stopped moving and lifted my fingers to his lips, kissing the tiny, worn tips.
“On the contrary. I find them rather beautiful.” I felt myself blush. “I’ve seen the world—admittedly mostly through bulletproof glass or from the tower of some ancient castle—but I’ve seen it. And I have access to the answers of a thousand questions at my disposal. But this small hand here?” He looked deeply into my eyes. “This hand makes sounds incomparable to anything I’ve ever heard. Sometimes I think I only dreamed that I heard you play the violin, it was so beautiful. These calluses are proof that it was real.”
At times the way he spoke to me was overwhelming, too romantic to believe. But though I cherished the words in my heart, I was never completely sure I could trust them. How did I know he wasn’t saying such sweet things to the other girls? I had to change the subject.
“Do you really have the answers to a thousand questions?”
“Absolutely. Ask me anything; and if I don’t know the answer, I know where we can find it.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
It was tough to come up with a question on the spot, much less one that would stump him, which was what I wanted. I took a moment to think of the things I’d been most curious about when I was growing up. How planes flew. What the United States used to be like. How the tiny music players that the upper castes had worked.
And then it hit me.
“What’s Halloween?” I asked.
“Halloween?” Clearly, he’d never heard of it. I wasn’t surprised. I’d only seen the word once myself in an old history book my parents had. Some parts of that book were tattered beyond recognition, with pages missing or mostly destroyed. Still, I was always fascinated by the mention of a holiday we knew nothing about.
“Not so certain now, Your Royal Smartness?” I teased.
He made a face at me though it was clear he was only playing at being annoyed. He checked his watch and sucked in a breath.
“Come with me. We have to hurry,” he said, grabbing my hand and launching himself into a run.
I stumbled a bit in my little heels, but I kept up pretty well as he led me back to the palace with a huge grin on his face. I loved when Maxon’s carefree side came through; too often he was so serious.
“Gentlemen,” he said as we raced past the guards by the door.
I made it halfway down the hall before my shoes got the better of me. “Maxon, stop!” I gasped. “I can’t keep up!”
“Come on, come on, you’re going to love this,” he complained, tugging my arm as I slowed. He finally eased back to my pace but was obviously itching to move faster.
We headed toward the north corridor, near the area where the Reports were filmed, but ducked into a stairwell before we got that far. We went up and up, and I couldn’t contain my curiosity.
“Where are we going exactly?”
He turned and faced me, immediately serious. “You have to swear never to reveal this little chamber. Only a few members of the family and a handful of the guards even know it exists.”
I was beyond intrigued. “Absolutely.”
We reached the top of the stairs, and Maxon held open the door for me. He took my hand again and pulled me down the hallway, finally stopping in front of a wall that was mostly covered by a magnificent painting. Maxon looked behind us to make sure no one was there, then reached behind the frame on the far side. I heard a faint click, and the painting swung toward us.
I gasped. Maxon grinned.
Behind the painting was a door that didn’t go all the way to the ground and had a small keypad on it, like the kind on a telephone. Maxon punched in a few numbers and then a tiny beep sounded. He turned the handle as he looked back to me.
“Let me help you. It’s quite a high step.” He gave me his hand and gestured for me to walk in first.
I was shocked.
The windowless room was covered with shelves full of what appeared to be ancient books. Two of the shelves contained books that had curious red slashes on the bindings, and I saw a massive atlas against one wall, opened to a page that held the shape of some country I couldn’t name. In the middle was a table with a handful of books on it, looking as if they’d been handled recently and left out for quick recovery. And finally, embedded in one wall was a wide screen that looked like a TV.
“What do the red slashes mean?” I asked in wonder.
“Those are banned books. As far as we know, they may be the only copies that still exist in all of Illéa.”
I turned to him, asking with my eyes what I didn’t dare say out loud.
“Yes, you can look at them,” he said in a manner that implied I was putting him out but with an expression that said he had been hoping I’d ask.
I lifted one of the books carefully, terrified that I might accidentally destroy a one-of-a-kind treasure. I flipped through the pages but ended up setting it back down almost immediately. I was simply too awestruck.
I turned around to find Maxon typing on something that looked like a flat typewriter attached to the TV screen.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A computer. Have you never seen one?” I shook my head, and Maxon didn’t seem too surprised. “Not many people have them anymore. This one is specifically for the information held in this room. If anything about your Halloween exists, this will tell us where it is.”
I wasn’t fully sure of what he was saying, but I didn’t ask him to clarify. In a few seconds his hunt produced a three-bullet list on the screen.
“Oh, excellent!” he exclaimed. “Wait right there.”
I stood by the table as Maxon found the three books that would reveal what Halloween was. I hoped it wasn’t something stupid and that I hadn’t made him go through all this effort for nothing.
The first book defined Halloween as a Celtic festival that marked the end of summer. Not wanting to slow us, I didn’t bother mentioning I had no idea what a Celtic was. It said they believed that spirits passed in and out of the world on Halloween, and people would put on masks to ward off the evil ones. Later, it evolved into a secular holiday, mainly for children. They dressed up in costumes and went around their towns singing songs and were rewarded with candy, creating the saying “trick or treat,” as they did a trick to get a treat.
The second book defined it as something similar, only it mentioned pumpkins and Christianity.
“This will be the interesting one,” Maxon claimed, flip-ping through a book that was much thinner than the others and handwritten.
“How so?” I asked, coming around to get a better look.
“This, Lady America, is one of the volumes of Gregory Illéa’s personal diaries.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “Can I touch it?”
“Let me find the page we’re searching for first. Look, it even has a picture!”
And there, like an apparition, an image from an unknown past showed Gregory Illéa with a tight expression on his face, his suit crisp and his stance tall. It was bizarre how much of the king and Maxon I could see in the way he stood. Beside him, a woman was giving the camera a halfhearted smile. There was something to her face that hinted she was once very lovely, but the luster had gone out of her eyes. She seemed tired.
Surrounding the couple were three figures. The first was a teenage girl, beautiful and vibrant, grinning widely and wearing a crown and a frilly gown. How funny! She was dressed as a princess. And then there were two boys, one slightly taller than the other and both dressed as characters I didn’t recognize. They looked like they were on the verge of mischief. Below the image was an entry, amazingly enough, in Gregory Illéa’s own hand.
THE CHILDREN CELEBRATED HALLOWEEN THIS YEAR WITH A PARTY. I SUPPOSE IT’S ONE WAY TO FORGET WHAT’S GOING ON AROUND THEM, BUT TO ME IT FEELS FRIVOLOUS. WE’RE ONE OF THE FEW FAMILIES REMAINING WHO HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO DO SOMETHING FESTIVE, BUT THIS CHILD’S PLAY SEEMS WASTEFUL.
“Do you think that’s why we don’t celebrate anymore? Because it’s wasteful?” I asked.
“Could be. If the date’s any indication, this was right after the American State of China started fighting back, just before the Fourth World War. At that point, most people had nothing—picture an entire nation of Sevens with a handful of Twos.”
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