The man corrected him. Honour, he said firmly. I have great honour. So will you. But you will find that that is not the same as power.
Lie quietly now. Since weve entered into the topic of climate, let me give you something else. And this time Im not going to tell you the name of it, because I want to test the receiving. You should be able to perceive the name without being told. I gave away snow and sledge and downhill and runners by telling them to you in advance.
Without being instructed, Jonas closed his eyes again. He felt the hands on his back again. He waited.
Now it came more quickly, the feelings. This time the hands didnt become cold, but instead began to feel warm on his body. They moistened a little. The warmth spread, extending across his shoulders, up his neck, on to the side of his face. He could feel it through his clothed parts, too: a pleasant, all-over sensation; and when he licked his lips this time, the air was hot and heavy.
He didnt move. There was no sledge. His posture didnt change. He was simply alone somewhere, out of doors, lying down, and the warmth came from far above. It was not as exciting as the ride through the snowy air, but it was pleasurable and comforting.
Suddenly he perceived the word for it: sunshine. He perceived that it came from the sky.
Then it ended.
Sunshine, he said aloud, opening his eyes.
Good. You did get the word. That makes my job easier. Not so much explaining.
And it came from the sky.
Thats right, the old man said. Just the way it used to.
Before Sameness. Before Climate Control, Jonas added.
The man laughed. You receive well, and learn quickly. Im very pleased with you. Thats enough for today, I think. Were off to a good start.
There was a question bothering Jonas. Sir, he said, the Chief Elder told me she told everyone and you told me, too, that it would be painful. So I was a little scared. But it didnt hurt at all. I really enjoyed it. He looked quizzically at the old man.
The man sighed. I started you with memories of pleasure. My previous failure gave me the wisdom to do that. He took a few deep breaths. Jonas, he said, it will be painful. But it need not be painful yet.
Im brave. I really am. Jonas sat up a little straighter.
The old man looked at him for a moment. He smiled. I can see that, he said. Well, since you asked the question I think I have enough energy for one more transmission.
Lie down once more. This will be the last today.
Jonas obeyed cheerfully. He closed his eyes, waiting, and felt the hands again; then he felt the warmth again, the sunshine again, coming from the sky of this other consciousness that was so new to him. This time, as he lay basking in the wonderful warmth, he felt the passage of time. His real self was aware that it was only a minute or two; but his other, memory-receiving self felt hours pass in the sun. His skin began to sting. Restlessly he moved one arm, bending it, and felt a sharp pain in the crease of his inner arm at the elbow.
Ouch, he said loudly, and shifted on the bed. Owwww, he said, wincing at the shift, and even moving his mouth to speak made his face hurt.
He knew there was a word, but the pain kept him from grasping it.
Then it ended. He opened his eyes, wincing with discomfort. It hurt, he told the man, and I couldnt get the word for it.
It was sunburn, the old man told him.
It hurt a lot, Jonas said, but Im glad you gave it to me. It was interesting. And now I understand better, what it meant, that there would be pain.
The man didnt respond. He sat silently for a second. Finally he said, Get up, now. Its time for you to go home.
They both walked to the centre of the room. Jonas put his tunic back on. Goodbye, sir, he said. Thank you for my first day.
The old man nodded to him. He looked drained, and a little sad.
Sir? Jonas said shyly.
Yes? Do you have a question?
Its just that I dont know your name. I thought you were the Receiver, but you say that now Im the Receiver. So I dont know what to call you.
The man had sat back down in the comfortable upholstered chair. He moved his shoulders around as if to ease away an aching sensation. He seemed terribly weary.
Call me the Giver, he told Jonas.
YOU SLEPT SOUNDLY, Jonas? his mother asked at the morning meal. No dreams?
Jonas simply smiled and nodded, not ready to lie, not willing to tell the truth. I slept very soundly, he said.
I wish this one would, his father said, leaning down from his chair to touch Gabriels waving fist. The basket was on the floor beside him; in its corner, beside Gabriels head, the stuffed hippo sat staring with its blank eyes.
So do I, Mother said, rolling her eyes. Hes so fretful at night.
Jonas had not heard the newchild during the night because as always, he had slept soundly. But it was not true that he had no dreams.
Again and again, as he slept, he had slid down that snow-covered hill. Always, in the dream, it seemed as if there were a destination: a something he could not grasp what that lay beyond the place where the thickness of snow brought the sledge to a stop.
He was left, upon awakening, with the feeling that he wanted, even somehow needed, to reach the something that waited in the distance. The feeling that it was good. That it was welcoming. That it was significant.
But he did not know how to get there.
He tried to shed the leftover dream, gathering his schoolwork and preparing for the day.
School seemed a little different today. The classes were the same: language and communications; commerce and industry; science and technology; civil procedures and government. But during the breaks for recreation periods and the midday meal, the other new Twelves were abuzz with descriptions of their first day of training. All of them talked at once, interrupting each other, hastily making the required apology for interrupting, then forgetting again in the excitement of describing the new experiences.
Jonas listened. He was very aware of his own admonition not to discuss his training. But it would have been impossible anyway. There was no way to describe to his friends what he had experienced there in the Annexe room. How could you describe a sledge without describing a hill and snow; and how could you describe a hill and snow to someone who had never felt height or wind or that feathery, magical cold?
Even trained for years as they all had been in precision of language, what words could you use which would give another the experience of sunshine?
So it was easy for Jonas to be still and to listen.
After school hours he rode again beside Fiona to the House of the Old.
I looked for you yesterday, she told him, so we could ride home together. Your bike was still there, and I waited for a little while. But it was getting late, so I went on home.
I apologise for making you wait, Jonas said.
I accept your apology, she replied automatically.
I stayed a little longer than I expected, Jonas explained.
She pedalled forward silently, and he knew that she expected him to tell her why. She expected him to describe his first day of training. But to ask would have fallen into the category of rudeness.
Youve been doing so many volunteer hours with the Old, Jonas said, changing the subject. There wont be much that you dont already know.
Oh, theres lots to learn, Fiona replied. Theres administrative work, and the dietary rules, and punishment for disobedience did you know that they use a discipline wand on the Old, the same as for small children? And theres occupational therapy, and recreational activities, and medications, and
They reached the building and braked their bikes.
I really think Ill like it better than school, Fiona confessed.
Me too, Jonas agreed, wheeling his bike into its place.
She waited for a second, as if, again, she expected him to go on. Then she looked at her watch, waved, and hurried towards the entrance.
Jonas stood for a moment beside his bike, startled. It had happened again: the thing that he thought of now as seeing beyond. This time it had been Fiona who had undergone that fleeting indescribable change. As he looked up and towards her going through the door, it happened; she changed. Actually, Jonas thought, trying to recreate it in his mind, it wasnt Fiona in her entirety. It seemed to be just her hair. And just for that flickering instant.
He ran through it in his mind. It was clearly beginning to happen more often. First, the apple a few weeks before. The next time had been the faces in the audience at the Auditorium, just two days ago. Now, today, Fionas hair.
Frowning, Jonas walked towards the Annexe. I will ask the Giver, he decided.
The old man looked up, smiling, when Jonas entered the room. He was already seated beside the bed, and he seemed more energetic today, slightly renewed, and glad to see Jonas.
Welcome, he said. We must get started. Youre one minute late.
I apologi Jonas began, and then stopped, flustered, remembering there were to be no apologies.
He removed his tunic and went to the bed. Im one minute late because something happened, he explained. And Id like to ask you about it, if you dont mind.
You may ask me anything.
Jonas tried to sort it out in his mind so that he could explain it clearly. I think its what you call seeing-beyond, he said.
The Giver nodded. Describe it, he said.
Jonas told him about the experience with the apple. Then the moment on the stage, when he had looked out and seen the same phenomenon in the faces of the crowd.
Then today, just now, outside, it happened with my friend Fiona. She herself didnt change, exactly. But something about her changed for a second. Her hair looked different; but not in its shape, not in its length. I cant quite Jonas paused, frustrated by his inability to grasp and describe exactly what had occurred.
Finally he simply said, It changed. I dont know how, or why.
Thats why I was one minute late, he concluded, and looked questioningly at the Giver.
To his surprise, the old man asked him a question which seemed unrelated to the seeing-beyond. When I gave you the memory yesterday, the first one, the ride on the sledge, did you look around?
Jonas nodded. Yes, he said, but the stuff I mean the snow in the air made it hard to see anything.
Did you look at the sledge?
Jonas thought back. No. I only felt it under me. I dreamed of it last night, too. But I dont remember seeing the sledge in my dream, either. Just feeling it.
The Giver seemed to be thinking.
When I was observing you, before the selection, I perceived that you probably had the capacity, and what you describe confirms that. It happened somewhat differently to me, The Giver told him. When I was just your age about to become the new Receiver I began to experience it, though it took a different form. With me it was well, I wont describe that now; you wouldnt understand it yet.
But I think I can guess how its happening with you. Let me just make a little test, to confirm my guess. Lie down.
Jonas lay on the bed again with his hands at his sides. He felt comfortable here now. He closed his eyes and waited for the familiar feel of the Givers hands on his back.
But it didnt come. Instead, the Giver instructed him, Call back the memory of the ride on the sledge. Just the beginning of it, where youre at the top of the hill, before the slide starts. And this time, look down at the sledge.
Jonas was puzzled. He opened his eyes. Excuse me, he asked politely, but dont you have to give me the memory?
Its your memory, now. Its not mine to experience any longer. I gave it away.
But how can I call it back?
You can remember last year, or the year that you were a Seven, or a Five, cant you?
Of course.
Its much the same. Everyone in the community has one-generation memories like those. But now you will be able to go back farther. Try. Just concentrate.
Jonas closed his eyes again. He took a deep breath and sought the sledge and the hill and the snow in his consciousness.
There they were, with no effort. He was again sitting in that whirling world of snowflakes, atop the hill.
Jonas grinned with delight, and blew his own steamy breath into view. Then, as he had been instructed, he looked down. He saw his own hands, furred again with snow, holding the rope. He saw his legs, and moved them aside for a glimpse of the sledge beneath.
Dumbfounded, he stared at it. This time it was not a fleeting impression. This time the sledge had and continued to have, as he blinked, and stared at it again that same mysterious quality that the apple had had so briefly. And Fionas hair. The sledge did not change. It simply was whatever the thing was.
Jonas opened his eyes and was still on the bed. The Giver was watching him curiously.
Yes, Jonas said slowly. I saw it, in the sledge.
Let me try one more thing. Look over there, to the bookcase. Do you see the very top row of books, the ones behind the table, on the top shelf?
Jonas sought them with his eyes. He stared at them, and they changed. But the change was fleeting. It slipped away the next instant.
It happened, Jonas said. It happened to the books, but it went away again.
Im right, then, the Giver said. Youre beginning to see the colour red.
The what?
The Giver sighed. How to explain this? Once, back in the time of the memories, everything had a shape and size, the way things still do, but they also had a quality called colour.
There were a lot of colours, and one of them was called red. Thats the one you are starting to see. Your friend Fiona has red hair quite distinctive, actually; Ive noticed it before. When you mentioned Fionas hair, it was the clue that told me you were probably beginning to see the colour red.
And the faces of people? The ones I saw at the Ceremony?