Shades of Grey

Ishihara

At ten o’clock precisely, the first person was seen. It was Violet, and she went to the Colorman with a spring in her step. We all sat silently under Yewberry’s watchful eye, and after twenty minutes it was Doug’s turn. He gave us all a bow before vanishing next door, and after half an hour, Jane was called.

She caught my eye as she went in, and gave a half smile. We’d brought books, but none of us read them.

For the most part we all just sat and stared blankly into space, shuffling down a place every twenty minutes, so that the next person to go was always sitting nearest the door.

“Edward Russett?”

“Yes?”

“You can go in now.”

I got up and entered the Council Chamber, carefully closing the door behind me. There were two people in the room: my erstwhile father-in-law and the Colorman, who was dressed in long robes that had no color in them at all, but were fastened by a long series of buttons that reached from his throat to his feet and shone brightly in the broad beam of light that descended from the skylight.

“Hello, Eddie,” said the Colorman in a friendly voice. “Take a seat. Do you have your merit book? I know you’ve already been verified, but I need to check again.”

So I did, and once satisfied that I was who I said I was, he shuffled to get comfortable and cleared his throat. “It’s very simple. All you have to do is tell me what you can see in the pictures.”

There was a big book on the reading stand in front of me, and deMauve positioned himself on my right, ready to turn the pages. At a signal from the Colorman, he opened the book.

The page was a mass of grey dots, which ranged in size from a period to the width of a pencil. But interspersed within this grey mass were colored dots, and they made up a picture.

“What do you see?”

“A swan.”

“And in its beak?”

“There’s nothing in its beak.”

“Quite right. Would you turn to page seven, please, Mr. deMauve?”

There were more dots on this page, but it wasn’t a swan, it was a number.

“Twenty-nine,” I said.

“Good,” said the Colorman. “And what about page eighteen?”

It was the outline of a bouncing goat. And after that, a wavy line, then nothing, then another number.

After each answer the Colorman referred to his chart, scribbled a score and gave Mr. deMauve a new page number. After fifteen minutes of this I was shown a chart that carried no numbers, or a picture of any sort—just a mass of differently hued dots. I was about to admit that I couldn’t see anything when the number sixteen popped into my head. My conscious mind wasn’t seeing the color, but my unconscious mind was. “Sixteen.”

“Hmm!” said the Colorman, uttering the first response that gave away any opinion. “Page two hundred and four.”

Again, I could see nothing, but felt it was a horse.

“It’s a horse.”

“Quite right.”

We went through twenty more plates, some of which I could sense, and others I couldn’t. But I could tell the process was almost done. The Colorman was starting to relax. Finally, after three images in which I could see nothing at all, he added up the score, scribbled in my merit book and stood up.

“Welcome to the Collective, Mr. Russett,” he said, shaking my hand. “You have much to contribute and an obligation to fulfill. Do it wisely, do it fairly, do it by the Rules. Remember: Apart, we will always be together.”

I turned smartly and walked out of the chamber and into the sunshine, much relieved. My father was there, waiting to greet me, and a little way away was Jane, sitting on the color garden wall.

“Well?” said Dad, and I opened the book with a thumping heart and trembling fingers.

“Eighty-six-point-seven-percent Red,” I said, reading the figures, “and negligible across the Blue and Yellow fields.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

He gave me another hug, then said Jane wanted to speak to me. I walked over with something akin to a stupid grin on my face. If I didn’t defer my prefectural duties, I would be sworn in just as soon as I did the traditional “knocking on the Council Chamber door.” We could make a start, Jane and I, and perhaps even travel to Emerald City on a fact-finding tour of the faculty or something. But as I walked up, my grin was not returned. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Problems?” I asked, sitting down next to her.

“Only of a personal nature. It won’t alter our Grand Plan. It’s just that, well . . I turned out twelve percent Yellow.”

I laughed. It was only 2 percent above threshold, so was as good as nothing, and for Jane’s huge dislike of Yellows, there was the nub of a fine joke about it.

“You’re no longer a Grey. That must make you a Primrose, minimum. Has Bunty asked you to spy on anyone yet?”

“Eddie,” she said with a serious look that I didn’t much like, “there’s something else. I’ve also got fourteen percent Blue.”

All of a sudden I wasn’t laughing. “Anything else?”

“No.”

“Blast!” I yelled so loudly that people nearby looked up and tutted audibly. Raising one’s voice showed very poor self-control. “Blast, blast, blast!”

“Hey,” she said, taking my hand, “perhaps it’s for the best. The Grand Plan’s still on, right?”

“How can it be for the best?” I asked. “You’re Green. We’re complementary. We can’t ever marry and we shouldn’t really talk to each other. And now I’ve got nothing to stop my father from insisting on a union with Violet!”

“Eddie,” she repeated, “stay focused. I know this is hard, but there are some things bigger than both of us. Is the Grand Plan still on?”

I said nothing, and instead stared at the ground with my head in my hands, wondering what kind of bribe it might take to add a few points to Jane’s score. It didn’t matter even if they had. The Ishihara was never repeated. The test was perfect, the Colorman above reproach. Infallible, in fact. I looked into her eyes, which were blurred with tears. The truly ironic part of this was that once I was married to Violet, we would not be complementary any longer and could talk freely. If deMauve and Violet had wanted to rub our noses in it the cruelest way possible, they could not have planned it better.

“Okay,” I said, “the Grand Plan is on. Who knows? Maybe being within the House of deMauve is the best place to be. Purpose first, love second, right?”

“I could always kill Violet. I could make it look like an accident.”

“Don’t joke about things like that.”

“Sorry.”

I wanted to kiss her, but people were watching, and fraternizing between complementary colors was not just demeritable but severely taboo. I had a position to maintain, and we had a plan together. We had a future together, too, just not one that would see us married. Or at least, not to each other.

“You have to go now,” she whispered, “but leave your window unlatched tonight.”

“You’re coming in?”

“No, you’re coming out. It’s time you met some people.”

I gave her an imperceptible nod, cleared my throat and stood up.

“Thank you, Miss—?”

“Brunswick.”

“Thank you, Miss Brunswick,” I said in a loud voice, since a small crowd had gathered to see how the Edward/Jane affair would pan out. “Will you release me from my promise?”

“I shall do so,” replied Jane in a formal manner, “and I thank you for your interest.”

And we bowed curtly and shook hands. I walked smartly away, and was instantly grabbed by Mrs.

Gamboge and tugged unceremoniously away from the crowd.

“Don’t think I don’t know you killed him,” she growled, staring at me angrily. “I’ll have my revenge. Not just on you but on that stupid Grey.”

“She’s Green.”

“She’ll always be a Grey within, Russett. And I’ll find proof. Even if I have to walk to High Saffron myself.”

“Be my guest,” I replied, “but you’re wrong. Courtland died trying to save me.”

“And that’s where your story falls apart. I know my son. He would never have lifted a finger to save you.”

It was a very sound argument, and we hadn’t thought of it. Jane and I would have to review our lying procedures.

“You disgust me,” added Gamboge, “I’ll make it my life’s work to destroy you.”

“Likewise,” I said, leaning closer. “I will aggressively pursue the manner of Travis’ death. Perhaps we should discuss the timing of Penelope’s allocation at Council tomorrow?”

She blinked several times and pursed her lips. But she said nothing more and moved away. The strange thing was, I hadn’t even broken a sweat under her attack. Being a prefect was going to be quite enjoyable.

I made my way through the crowd and rejoined my father. “Okay,” I said, “we’ll do it your way.”