"Mother, what is war?"
"War? Why, it's a game you play, dear."
"No, what is war?" The Seven named Katharine looked up with gleaming tears in her pale eyes to her mother. "I just had the most awful...horrible dream."
The benevolent female arose from where she sat, studying the family unit's Book of Rules. "Please, Katharine! Precision of Language!"
"But-"
"Share your dream during the morning meal, Katie."
The small girl frowned, fidgeting with her comfort object. The silly "animal" was called a wolf. She didn't want to wait until the morning meal to be comforted.
"But I want to know now!" Katharine stomped her petite foot on the ground in a flash of burning anger. "What is war? What is-" she shuddered, "Death?"
Her mother paused from where she read, and sat up. "Katie, please calm yourself or I will be forced to take you in for chastisement! And as for death," confusion rung in her tone, "I do not understand why you use that word. It is obsolete, one which is not spoken anymore."
She was about to continue, until something strange struck her. Of course, the entire day and days before had been quite unusual. With the disappearance of the latest Receiver of Memory two days ago, all of the Community's efforts had been bent on retrieving him safely. But through all the searches, the whole situation had hardly affected the lives of the residents, and neither the mother nor her family unit had given much thought to the crisis. However, as Mother sat in her slightly light chair, a powerful sensation washed over her.
It came only as a flash, but in that instant a horror of a thousand years past hit Mother like a scattered whip. In her mind's eye, she gazed into pale eyes – not unlike Katharine's. They belonged to a youth, not much older than some Twelves she knew.
He gasped, and she wondered how he could breathe with the air's stench; like the Clean-Up crews had forgotten a meal on the streets since last December.
"Water." He croaked, and with Mother being a Caretaker by trade she vainly searched for something, anything to appease him.
As she watched, wide-eyed, the male sighed ruefully and as the light left his eyes an expression of grief was forever etched on his face.
Katharine's mother wouldn't have thought much of the scene. After all, what was there to understand about it? But she did understand the disappearance of light in those eyes. She saw it every time she took an Elder away from their loving peers and performed the Ceremony of Release.
The moment was lost. The adult shook her head, eyes wide with shock and confusion.
She now knew what her daughter was crying about. And the thought of the pale-eyed male and the looming cloak of "death" over him made her want to stomp her foot in rage and cling to her old comfort object, too.
Moments later Katharine was hastily strapped to her mother's bicycle and the pair was riding off to the Council.
The Giver sighed fervently and turned away from his inquisitors. He had supposed it would only be a matter of time before Jonas' lost memories began to seep back into the community, like rain leakage into a warm kitchen. But, of course, only he knew what a kitchen, rain, or even warmth was.
"Receiver, you must understand something of this." The Head Council member's voice rung with desperateness. "Katharine's mother reported a strange dream last night, and a … vision, for lack of a more appropriate word. The last time -"
"The last time," Giver raised his head from where it had been bowed, "The last time, Rosemary's memories were mostly joyful ones. She did not have much pain with her when she..." He coughed slightly as the entire assembled Council flinched at the sound of his dear daughter's name.
"Reciever, please-"
"My name is Kenneth." The aged man spun around with surprising speed to announce his anger, "My parents' names were James and Miranda, and my sister was Released nearly a year ago. Her name was Larissa." He paused before continuing with a croak, "And my daughter... my daughter was Rosemary.
"If you want my help in harnessing Jonas' memories, you must accept the facts. And there must be change."
For the few moments accompanying the Giver's announcement, silence was all that followed. Many of the Council members just gawked at him like startled chickens, while a few were so shocked they had resorted to clothing their eyes and breathing deeply.
The Head councilwoman opened her dark eyes. Every now and again, the Giver was given flashes of color, and in the opening he remembered that she had lovely chocolate brown retinas.
"Although a vote of the council is necessary," she spoke knowingly, as if she had already received one of the agonizing memories, "I will personally intervene. We accept your assistance... Kenneth."
The Giver smiled, but his grin was bittersweet. "Thank you. Now, let me explain what has happened."
"We have all known for the longest time that those individuals born with pale eyes are biologically qualified to become with next Receiver of Memory."
Once all had found seats in the Giver's apartment, they nodded in acknowledgment.
"So, it is logical, that the two residents left in the community with pale eyes are the first to Receive the fragments of Jonas' memories."
Giver sighed as the Council flinched yet again at the sound of his recent apprentice's name. At the Ceremony on a few short days ago, "Jonas" had been labeled an Unspeakable name.
A lone voice called out from the back of the room, "Is there any way to prevent the spreading of these memories?"
"No." His answer came swiftly and surely. "The entire community must feel the burden that one dear child has held onto for so long. It was a pity that the first one to reach young Katharine was war."
"But, we are not as wise as you or ...he... was."
"How will we cope?"
Now their ignorance was irritating. "Listen to me!" The Giver spoke loudly, silencing the room's conversations. "These. Are. Memories. Nothing more. While some horrid and a burden to us all, the only people they can physically hurt are not you. I will watch over the Seven, make sure she copes. But you," He glared around the room with his hawk-like eyes, "will survive. They are images of the past; horrors we personally did not commit, but also the joys of living in a world without Sameness. If a Twelve can understand and become wiser with them, so can you!"
The Council ushered themselves out the door; mumbled "thank you, wise one"s and other various respects lost on the Giver's ears.
When they all had left, the Giver reached for the Speaker on his wall.
"Yes, Reciever?" The attendant's voice quavered a bit more than usual.
"Please bring the female Seven named Katharine to me at once."
Within a few minutes, the female came trotting in, grasping her mother's hand, through the door.
The Giver nodded to the taller female. "Please, leave Katharine with me. I must speak with her alone."
The small girl watched with apprehensiveness as her mother let go of her tiny hand and ambled out of the room.
"Who are you?" She said, rubbing her eyes. "I don't think I've seen you before."
"I am an Elder, Katharine." He smiled, "But more importantly, I am your friend."
Katharine brightened up significantly. "A friend? So we're going to play Catch the Ball and Hiding, like Asher teaches us?"
He chuckled ruefully. If only lighthearted games could cure the thought of war. "No, Katharine. We're just going to talk. Did you dream last night?"
"Well," She looked down and shuffled her feet, as if embarrassed to share her vision. "Yes. I didn't like it very much."
"Well, did you know that I've had the very same dream?"
"...Really?"
"Yes, and I have just the thing to help you forget it."
She cocked her head, thinking hard. "Is there some sort of medication for dreams?"
The Giver shook his head. "In a way, I suppose. Lie down on the bed, on your stomach."
Katharine did as she was told, but when the Giver bean to place his hands on her back, she squirmed and wriggled out of his grip.
"Elder, that isn't very nice."
"Please, Katharine," The Giver whispered, concentration hard on what memories he still had left, "Trust me."
When she relaxed and became limp, a memory came surging out from the elder's hands into the girl's body.
After a few minutes of this, he drew back his hands and allowed Katharine to sit up. She was smiling. "Sir, was that an animal?" She asked, "Because it looked a great deal similar to my comfort object."
"That memory was of a dog."
"And it looked like it was playing Catch the Ball... with it's mouth!" She laughed, and the Giver recalled Rosemary's giggle. "Of course, it's all very silly. Dogs and wolves aren't even real, let alone they would play Catch the Ball like people do."
"Of course," The Giver said cheerfully, although melancholy filled his body. "Very foolish."
The little Seven looked up at him with gleaming stars in her eyes. "You were right, Elder. It did make me happy. I thank you for your gift."
He nodded to her. "You are welcome. Now, Katharine," leaning closer to her, the Giver wanted to make her understand him clearly, "I know you are very happy right now, but don't share your dream with anybody else."
"Why? Don't you want them to be happy too?"
"Actually, knowing about the memory will make them very sad. And you don't want to do that, do you?"
"Oh," Katharine said in realization, "No, I don't."
The Giver stood up, and found a spare piece of paper and a writing utensil. "Now, if you have any more odd dreams, please ask your mother to bring you to me, and we can talk about them, like a morning meal."
As he wrote down the address of the Annex Building on the paper and placed it in her tiny hands, she asked, "Elder, you never told me what your name was. What should I call you?"
The Giver gazed at her, into her pale eyes. He had always seen wisdom there, enough to make her a potential selection. He could see her, leading the community through the hard times along with the good, long after his own Release had been performed. Because she would be the one to pull the community through the loss of Jonas. They would survive.
"Call me the Giver."