Harmony by Marjorie B. Kellogg Read Free Book Online Page A

plaque.” He vaulted onto the low stone wall bordering the lane. “Mothers and fathers of Harmony! Art took a great leap forward tonight, as our box office records will reflect…!”
    Ahead, a brace of camera-laden ladies in the bright new clothes of day-pass tourists had strayed from the beaten path. Racing to clear the Gates before Closing, they halted to consult their faxmap, the flimsy kind from the public newsboxes, just about the only thing you could get for free in Harmony. One of them snapped a few quick ones of the raven-haired scarecrow declaiming from a public wall. Our blue apprentice coveralls marked us with mysterious privilege.
    “But if he really offends them…” Jane pursued.
    “He meant excite, not offend,” I said.
    “… the Town Council might…”
    “Make him mayor?” Cris waved his arms, tottering on the wall. “Jeez, Jane, we’re’ talking
Tuatua
here! Major fame! Major life adventure! I’ve wanted to go there ever since I heard about it!”
    “Then go! We don’t need them coming here!”
    I’m slow sometimes when it comes to people, but finally the real source of Jane’s worry came clear to me. Her apprenticeship renewal came up for review in September, just after Howie’s “revolution in style” was due to open. I glared at Cris to back off.
    There was a nasty little mind game we apprentices played among ourselves, where each would speculate on their chance of survival if put Outside. Crispin had an endless appetite for this game. He was sure he’d survive. “Intelligence is survival,” he’d proclaim. “I’d go off into the Badlands with my gang. I’d found my own colony! Wouldn’t catch me taking charity in some domeside slum!”
    I was less certain of success and, lacking Crispin’s rich and powerful father, less assured that I’d never have to play the game for real.
    Jane was from Providence, one of the strict Calvinist communities in what used to be Switzerland. I’d heard it mocked in Harmony as a god-dome. Like me, she had sacrificed her citizenship to come to Harmony. Often I wondered why. Only her obsessive dedication to the hands-on craft of design gave any inkling. Jane refused to play the Survival Game at all. Concerned about causing offense if she actually voiced her loathing, she’d go cold silent if the subject even came up. Cris said she was more of a drag on our fun than if she simply left the room.
    “Audiences like a little adventure,” I assured her. “Besides, even if Howie went too far, no one would blame you.”
    What “too far” might be, I wasn’t sure. I’d seen some pretty outrageous performances during my time in Harmony, though admittedly not at the Arkadie. “Nobody blamed the designer’s apprentice for the twelve nudes painting each other last season at Interaction. They didn’t even blame the designer.”
    “Should have blamed somebody,” Cris put in.
    “Jane, if Howie flops, it’s not going to affect your review.”
    She flinched at my comforting touch, then accepted it with schooled tolerance. She was so tense and thin, as if there was no skin softening the bones beneath the blouse of her coverall. “If the Council censored Micah, it could.”
    “Oh, Jane,” Crispin scoffed, “this is Art. That’s Politics!”
    “The Town Council’s authority is civil, not artistic,” I reminded her. “No one legislates aesthetics in Harmony.”
    “Except the gallery owners,” murmured Cris.
    But Jane was in her terrier mode. “If Howie got them mad enough, they might decide Micah doesn’t deserve four apprentices.” Her arms rose and fell in suppressed panic. “Oh, I wish I were Songh!”
    Crispin’s laugh got an edge to it. “You want to be SecondGen? So you could run home to Mommy and Daddy every night?”
    “Like you could if they threw you Out?”
    “That’s not true!”
    Jane’s eyes raked him unbelievingly, then slid away. “At least if I were SecondGen, I wouldn’t have to worry all the time!”
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