Artis

Artis is a story about becoming an adult in a dystopian future.  The story centers around our hero, Artis, as a young man in a locked down facility with other children. The kids have no idea why they are locked in the facility and are told constantly about becoming adults.

This story placed 2nd in the CrossTime Science Fiction award and was published in that anthology. You can pick it up at amazon.com

 

 

Here is a snippet from Artis.

 

Artis

 

 

 

“Artis, get down from there!”

Artis looked down from his perch. The shadowed form of Ms. Sennelcraft stood with her hands on her hips. The gymnasium floor was a glimmering pool of lights in the darkness.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, and started down. He grabbed the pipe above his head and did a hand-over-hand until he stepped onto a thin concrete ledge. He then reached over and grabbed the two black pipes connecting to the top of the bleachers. He shimmied down the pipes and bounded down the bleachers, onto the hardwood gymnasium floor. Artis stood directly before Ms. Sennelcraft. He was only fourteen, but already taller than she.

“Artis, you know students are not allowed to look out those windows,” Ms. Sennelcraft said.

Artis turned and looked up. The tiny slats held white stars and black sky.

They also held countless answers.

“I apologize, Ms. Sennelcraft. I just wanted to see.” He looked at the floor. Ms. Sennelcraft was wearing a pair of black boots, a long gray skirt, and a white blouse. He looked to her face in the darkness, attempting to gauge her displeasure. Her graying hair was tied back in the normal utilitarian fashion, and her softly lined face was seemingly devoid of any hint of anger. He could almost guess it was a look of sympathy if he didn’t know better.

“Do not ever let me catch you up there again. You know it’s forbidden. You’re lucky I don’t give you a demerit. Now get back to your bed.”

He looked back at the floor. “Yes ma’am.”

Artis made his way back to the dormitory. The halls were lit by small glowing rods in the floor.  He passed many closed doors behind which numerous boys of different ages slept.  He stopped in front of the door with a functional red 9 painted on it.  He opened the door quietly and stepped into the black room.

“Where’ve you been?” a voice shot out from the darkness. 

It was Cherrid, the room leader.

“I’ve been doing stuff. Leave me alone,” Artis said.  He heard a few of the other boys shuffle around under their covers, but no one said anything. He didn’t care if they did.

Artis made his way through the known darkness to his bed and pulled his tucked-in bed sheets down. Thoughts of the world ran through his head.

The next morning he was up with the other boys, showering, brushing and dressing.  Artis pulled on his blue shirt with the red collar just like every other day. He inspected it in a small mirror, making certain the collar was per specs.

“Where were you last night?” Kemry asked. Kemry was also fourteen, but his slightness made him the focus of pranks and jeers from others in their class. 

“Looking out the windows in the gym,” Artis replied. He pulled on his black pants, picked off some lint, and sat on his locker to lace up his shoes, per specs.

“Did anyone see you?” Kemry asked, leaning down next to his friend.

Artis continued tying his shoes. A small scuff marred the shiny blackness on the right one. He’d better buff that out before going to class. He didn’t need another demerit.

“Ms. Sennelcraft caught me.”

Kemry sat down next to Artis and looked around before speaking. “You didn’t tell anyone you were going to do that did you?”

Artis, pulled off his shoes, stood, and motioned for Kemry to move. “Of course not.” He opened his footlocker and fetched his shoe shining equipment.  He closed the lid and both boys sat back down.

“Cherrid would come down on you hard if—”

“He’s a flagrant damfool.”

Kemry quickly looked around again.

“Stop looking for him. Just because Cherrid is our room leader doesn’t make him our boss,” Artis said, shining fastidiously.

“He can make it tough for you,” Kemry said.

“Forgive me if I don’t care.” Artis stood and placed his shine equipment in its correct spot in his footlocker.  He laced up his shoes, tied them in the prescribed fashion, and stood. “Let’s get to class.”