And his new, heightened feelings permeated a greater realm than simply his
sleep. Though he knew that his failure to take the pills accounted for some of it, he
thought that the feelings came also from the memories. Now he could see all of
the colors; and he could keep them, too, so that the trees and grass and bushes
stayed green in his vision. Gabriel’s rosy cheeks stayed pink, even when he slept.
And apples were always, always red.
Now, through the memories, he had seen oceans and mountain lakes and
streams that gurgled through woods; and now he saw the familiar wide river
beside the path differently. He saw all of the light and color and history it contained
and carried in its slow-moving water; and he knew that there was an Elsewhere
from which it came, and an Elsewhere to which it was going.
On this unexpected, casual holiday he felt happy, as he always had on holidays;
but with a deeper happiness than ever before. Thinking, as he always did, about
precision of language, Jonas realized that it was a new
depth of feelings that he was experiencing. Somehow they were not at all the
same as the feelings that every evening, in every dwelling, every citizen analyzed
with endless talk.
“I felt angry because someone broke the play area rules,” Lily had said once,
making a fist with her small hand to indicate her fury. Her family— Jonas among
them—had talked about the possible reasons for rule-breaking, and the need for
understanding and patience, until Lily’s fist had relaxed and her anger was gone.
But Lily had not felt anger, Jonas realized now. Shallow impatience and
exasperation, that was all Lily had felt. He knew that with certainty because now
he knew what anger was. Now he had, in the memories, experienced injustice and
cruelty, and he had reacted with rage that welled up so passionately inside him
that the thought of discussing it calmly at the evening meal was unthinkable.
“I felt sad today,” he had heard his mother say, and they had comforted her.
But now Jonas had experienced real sadness. He had felt grief. He knew that
there was no quick comfort for emotions like those.
These were deeper and they did not need to be told. They were felt. Today, he felt
happiness.
“Asher!” He spied his friend’s bicycle leaning against a tree at the edge of the
playing field. Nearby, other bikes were strewn about on the ground. On a holiday
the usual rules of order could be disregarded.
He skidded to a stop and dropped his own bike beside the others. “Hey, Ash!” he
shouted, looking around. There seemed to be no one in the play area. “Where are
you?”
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