''All of us in the community know and enjoy Asher," the

Chief Elder began. Asher grinned and scratched one leg

with the other foot. The audience chuckled softly.

''When the committee began to consider Asher's

Assignment," she went on, ''there were some possibilities

that were immediately discarded. Some that would clearly,

not have been right for Asher.

''For example,'' she said, smiling, ''we did not consider

for an instant designating Asher an Instructor of Threes.''

The audience howled with laughter. Asher laughed, too,

looking sheepish but pleased at the special attention. The

Instructors of Threes were in charge of the acquisition of

correct language.

''In fact," the Chief Elder continued, chuckling a little

herself, ''we even gave a little thought to some retroactive

chastisement for the one who had been Asher's Instructor of

Threes so long ago. At the meeting where Asher was

discussed, we retold many of the stories that we all re-

membered from his days of language acquisition.

''Especially," she said, chuckling, ''the difference between

snack and smack. Remember, Asher?"

Asher nodded ruefully, and the audience laughed aloud.

Jonas did, too. He remembered, though he had been only a

Three at the time himself.

The punishment used for small children was a regulated

system of smacks with the discipline wand: a thin, flexible

weapon that stung painfully when it was wielded. The

Childcare specialists were trained very carefully in the dis-

cipline methods: a quick smack across the hands for a bit of

minor misbehavior; three sharper smacks on the bare legs

for a second offense.

54

Poor Asher, who always talked too fast and mixed up

words, even as a toddler. As a Three, eager for his juice and

crackers at snacktime, he one day said ''smack'' in-stead of

''snack'' as he stood waiting in line for the morning treat.

Jonas remembered it clearly. He could still see little

Asher, wiggling with impatience in the line. He remembered

the cheerful voice call out, ''I want my smack!''

The other Threes, including Jonas, had laughed ner-

vously. "Snack!'' they corrected. ''You meant snack, Asher!''

But the mistake had been made. And precision of language

was one of the most important tasks of small children. Asher

had asked for a smack.

The discipline wand, in the hand of the Childcare worker,

whistled as it came down across Asher's hands. Asher

whimpered, cringed, and corrected himself instantly.

"Snack," he whispered.
But the next morning he had done it again. And again the

following week. He couldn't seem to stop, though for each

lapse the discipline wand came again, escalating to a series

of painful lashes that left marks on Asher's legs. Eventually,

for a period of time, Asher stopped talking altogether, when

he was a Three.

"For a while," the Chief Elder said, relating the story, we

had a silent Asher! But he learned.''

She turned to him with a smile. ''When he began to talk

again, it was with greater precision. And now his lapses are

very few. His corrections and apologies are very prompt.

And his good humor is unfailing.'' The audience murmured

in agreement. Asher's cheerful disposition was well-known

throughout the community.

55

''Asher.'' She lifted her voice to make the official an-

nouncement. ''We have given you the Assignment of As-

sistant Director of Recreation.''

She clipped on his new badge as he stood beside her,

beaming. Then he turned and left the stage as the audience

cheered. When he had taken his seat again, the Chief Elder

looked down at him and said the words that she had said

now four times, and would say to each new Twelve.

Somehow she gave it special meaning for each of them.

''Asher,'' she said, ''thank you for your childhood.''

The Assignments continued, and Jonas watched and lis-

tened, relieved now by the wonderful Assignment his best

friend had been given. But he was more and more appre-

hensive as his own approached. Now the new Twelves in

the row ahead had all received their badges. They were

fingering them as they sat, and Jonas knew that each one

was thinking about the training that lay ahead. For some —

one studious male had been selected as Doctor, a female as

Engineer, and another for Law and Justice — it would be

years of hard work and study. Others, like Laborers and

Birthmothers, would have a much shorter training period.

Eighteen, Fiona, on his left, was called. Jonas knew she

must be nervous, but Fiona was a calm female. She had

been sitting quietly, serenely, throughout the Ceremony.

Even the applause, though enthusiastic, seemed serene

when Fiona was given the important Assignment of Care-

taker of the Old. It was perfect for such a sensitive, gentle

girl, and her smile was satisfied and pleased when she took

her seat beside him again.

56

Jonas prepared himself to walk to the stage when the

applause ended and the Chief Elder picked up the next

folder and looked down to the group to call forward the

next new Twelve. He was calm now that his turn had come.

He took a deep breath and smoothed his hair with his hand.

''Twenty,'' he heard her voice say clearly. ''Pierre.''

She skipped me, Jonas thought, stunned. Had he heard

wrong? No. There was a sudden hush in the crowd, and he

knew that the entire community realized that the Chief

Elder had moved from Eighteen to Twenty, leaving a gap.

On his right, Pierre, with a startled look, rose from his seat

and moved to the stage.

A mistake. She made a mistake. But Jonas knew, even as

he had the thought, that she hadn't. The Chief Elder made

no mistakes. Not at the Ceremony of Twelve.

He felt dizzy, and couldn't focus his attention. He didn't

hear what Assignment Pierre received, and was only dimly

aware of the applause as the boy returned, wearing his new

badge. Then: Twenty-one. Twenty-two.

The numbers continued in order. Jonas sat, dazed, as they

moved into the Thirties and then the Forties, nearing the

end. Each time, at each announcement, his heart jumped for

a moment, and he thought wild thoughts. Perhaps now she

would call his name. Could he have forgotten his own

number? No. He had always been Nineteen. He was sitting

in the seat marked Nineteen.

But she had skipped him. He saw the others in his group

glance at him, embarrassed, and then avert their eyes

quickly. He saw a worried look on the face of his group

leader.

57