The audience was clearly ill at ease. They applauded the final Assignment; but the applause was piecemeal, no longer a crescendo of united enthusiasm. There were murmurs of confusion. Zim did not clap. How dare they skip him. The Chief Elder waited until the uneasy applause subsided. Then she spoke again. "I know," she said in her vibrant, gracious voice, "that you are all concerned. That you feel we have made a mistake." She smiled. The community, relieved from its discomfort very slightly by her benign statement, seemed to breathe more easily. It was very silent. Zim looked up. "I have caused you anxiety," she said. "I apologize to my community." Her voice flowed over the assembled crowd.
"We accept your apology," they all uttered together.
"Zim," she said, looking down at him, "I apologize to you in particular. I caused you anguish."
"I accept your...apology," Zim answered.
"Please come to the stage now." she said. Zim proudly walked up to the stage. "Zim has not been assigned," she informed the crowed.
"What!? But My Tall-I mean Chief Elder! Why not?" Zim asked panicked.
"Zim has been selected." she answered. The audience was puzzled. In a firm commanding voice she announced, "Zim has been selected to be our next Receiver of Memory." The audience gasped their eyes widened in awe. "Such a selection is very, very rare," the Chief Elder told the audience. "Our community has only one Receiver. It is he who trains his successor. We have had our current Receiver for a very long time," she went on. Zim followed her eyes and noticed a bearded man with pale eyes was staring at Zim. He seemed shocked by his appearance. He looked at Zim like he was a ghost or something.
"We failed in our last selection," the Chief Elder said solemnly. "It was ten years ago, when Zim was a toddler. I will not dwell on the experience because it causes discomfort." The audience shifted in their seats. "We have not been hasty this time," she continued. "We could not afford another failure."
"Sometimes, we are not entirely certain about the Assignments, even after the most painstaking observations. Sometimes we worry that the one assigned might not develop, through training, every attribute necessary. Elevens are still children, after all. What we observe as playfulness and patience-the requirements to become a Nurturer-could, with maturity, be revealed as simple foolishness and indolence. So we continue to observe during training, and to modify behavior when necessary.
"But the Receiver-in-training cannot be observed, cannot be modified. That is stated quite clearly in the rules. He is to be alone, apart, while he is prepared by the current Receiver for the job which is the most honored in the community." Zim zoned out as the Chief Elder continued her boring speech. After most of her speech she put her arm on his shoulders. "Zim," she said, she said not speaking to him alone but to the entire community, "you will be trained to be our next Receiver of Memory. We thank you for your childhood." She took her arm off his shoulder and walked off the stage. Left him there alone facing the crowd.
"Zim." It was a whisper at first. "Zim. Zim." Then louder and faster. "Zim! Zim! Zim!" Zim grinned; he liked the attention he was getting.