The FU Lottery
The morning of April 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a spring
day. The people of Fairfax Underground began to gather in the square around ten
o'clock.
The lottery was conducted -- as were the square dances, the teen club, the Halloween
program -- by WashingTone-Locian, who had time and energy to devote to civic
activities. When he arrived in the square, carrying the black wooden box, there
was a murmur of conversation among the posters, and he waved and called, "Little
late today, folks." The postmaster, Gravis, followed him, carrying a three-legged
stool, and the stool was put in the center of the square and WTL set the black
box down on it.
The original paraphernalia for the lottery had been lost long ago, and the black
box now resting on the stool had been put into use even before Registered Voter,
the oldest man in town, was born.
Gravis held the black box securely on the stool until WashingTone-Locian had
stirred the papers thoroughly with his hand. Just as Tone turned to the assembled
posters, pas'ion came hurriedly along the path to the square, her sweater thrown
over her shoulders, and slid into place in the back of the crowd. "Clean forgot
what day it was," she said to Genevieve, who stood next to her, and they both
laughed softly. "Thought my old man was out back stacking wood," pas'ion went
on. "And then I looked out the window and the kids was gone, and then I
remembered it was the twenty-seventh and came a-running."
pas'ion craned her neck to see through the crowd and found her husband and
children standing near the front. She tapped Genevieve on the arm as a farewell
and began to make her way through the crowd.
The people separated good-humoredly to let her through: two or three people said.
in voices just loud enough to be heard across the crowd, "Here comes your,
missus, Radiophile," and "She made it after all." pas'ion reached her husband, and
Tone, who had been waiting, said cheerfully. "Thought we were going to have to
get on without you, pas'ion."
pas'ion replied, grinning, "Wouldn't have me leave m'dishes in the sink, now,
would you, Tone?," and soft laughter ran through the crowd as the people stirred
back into position after pas'ion's arrival.
"Well, now." Tone said soberly, "guess we better get started, get this over with,
so's we can go back to work. Anybody ain't here?"
"Harry Tuttle." several people said.
WashingTone-Locian consulted his list. "Harry Tuttle," he said. "That's right.
He's broke his leg, hasn't he? Who's drawing for him?"
"Me, I guess," a woman said, and Tone turned to look at her. "Wife draws for her
husband," Tone said.
"Guess I gotta fill in for the old man this year," Conie said regretfully.
"Right," Tone said. He made a note on the list he was holding. Then he
asked, "Mr. Misery drawing this year?"
A tall boy in the crowd raised his hand. "Here," he said. "I'm drawing for my
me-maw and me." He blinked his eyes nervously and ducked his head as several
voices in the crowd said things like "Good fellow," and "Glad to see your
mother's got a man to do it."
"Well," WashingTone-Locian said, "guess that's everyone."
A sudden hush fell on the crowd as Tone Loc cleared his throat and looked at the
list. "All ready?" he called. "Now, I'll read the names -- heads of families
first -- and the men come up and take a paper out of the box. Keep the paper
folded in your hand without looking at it until everyone has had a turn. Everything
clear?"
The people had done it so many times that they only half listened to the
directions: most of them were quiet. wetting their lips, not looking around. Then
Tone raised one hand high and said, "Cary." A man disengaged himself from the
crowd and came forward. He reached into the black box and took out a folded
paper. He held it firmly by one corner as he turned and went hastily back to his
place in the crowd, where he stood a little apart from his family, not looking
down at his hand.
"Numbers," WashingTone-Locian said. "TheMeeper.... RESton Peace"
He handed his joint to Genevieve. She held her breath while her husband went
forward.
"Harry Tuttle," Tone said, and Conie went steadily to the box while one of the
women said, "Go on, Conie," and another said, "There she goes."
"Alias.... Radiophile."
"Get up there, Radiophile," pas'ion said, and the people near her laughed.
"They do say," Professor Pangloss murmured to Registered Voter, who stood next to
him, "that over at the new website they're talking of giving up the lottery."
Registered Voter snorted. "Pack of crazy fools," he said. "Listening to the young
folks, nothing's good enough for them. Next thing you know, they'll be wanting to
go back to living in caves. There's always been a lottery," he added petulantly.
"Bad enough to see young Tone up there joking with everybody."
"Some sites have already quit lotteries," Numbers said.
"Nothing but trouble in that," Registered Voter said stoutly. "Pack of young fools."
WashingTone-Locian called his own name and then stepped forward precisely and
selected a slip from the box. Then he called, "Registered Voter."
"Seventy-seventh year I been in the lottery," Registered Voter said as he went
through the crowd. "Seventy-seventh time."
"Misery." The tall boy came awkwardly through the crowd. Someone said, "Don't be
nervous," and Tone said, "Take your time, son."
After that, there was a long pause, a breathless pause, until WashingTone-Locian,
holding his slip of paper in the air, said, "All right, fellows." For a minute,
no one moved, and then all the slips of paper were opened. Suddenly, all the
women began to speak at once, saving. "Who is it?," "Who's got it?," "Is it the
Tuttles?," "Is it the Lurkers?"
Then the voices began to say, "It's Radiophile," "The Radiophiles got it."
People began to look around to see the Radiophiles. Radiophile was standing quiet,
staring down at the paper in his hand. Suddenly pas'ion shouted to Tone. "You
didn't give him time enough to take any paper he wanted. I saw you. It wasn't
fair!"
"Be a good sport, pas'ion," Genevieve said, "All of us took the same chance."
"Shut the fuck up, pas'ion," Radiophile said.
"Well, everyone," WashingTone-Locian said, "that was done pretty fast, and now
we've got to be hurrying a little more to get done in time." He consulted his
list.
"How many kids, Radiophile?" WashingTone-Locian asked formally.
"Three," Radiophile said.
"There's Gonads & Strife, and bloody blisters, and little eesh. And pas'ion and me."
"All right, then," Tone said. "Gravis, you got their tickets back?"
Gravis nodded and held up the slips of paper. "Put them in the box, then," Tone
directed. "Take Radiophile's and put it in."
"I think we ought to start over," pas'ion said, angrily. "I tell you it wasn't
fair. You didn't give him time enough to choose. Everybody saw that."
"Ready, Radiophile?" Tone asked, and Radiophile, with one quick glance around at
his wife and children, nodded.
"Gravis, you help little eesh," Tone said.
Gravis took the hand of the little boy, who came willingly with him up to the
box. "Take a paper out of the box," Gravis said. eesh put his hand into the box
and laughed. "Take just one paper," WashingTone-Locian said. "Gravis, you hold it
for him." Gravis took the child's hand and removed the folded paper from the
tight fist and held it while little eesh looked up at him wonderingly.
"bloody blisters next," WashingTone-Locian said. blisters was twelve, and his
school friends breathed heavily as he went forward switching his hips, and took a
slip daintily from the box. "Gonads & Strife," WashingTone-Locian said, and G&S,
his face red and his feet overlarge, near knocked the box over as he got a
paper out.
"pas'ion," WashingTone-Locian said. She hesitated for a minute, looking around
defiantly, and then set her lips and went up to the box. She snatched a paper out
and held it behind her.
"Radiophile," WashingTone-Locian said, and Radiophile reached into the box and felt
around, bringing his hand out at last with the slip of paper in it.
The crowd was quiet. A girl whispered, "I hope it's not blisters," and the sound
of the whisper reached the edges of the crowd.
"It's not the way it used to be," Registered Voter said clearly, shaking his
head. "People ain't the way they used to be."
"All right," Tone said. "Open the papers. Gravis, you open little eesh's."
Gravis opened the slip of paper and there was a groan of disappointment through
the crowd as he held it up and everyone could see that it was blank.
blisters and Gonads opened theirs at the same time, and both beamed and
laughed, turning around to the crowd and holding their slips of paper above their
heads.
"pas'ion," WashingTone-Locian said. There was a pause, and then Tone looked at
Radiophile, and Radiophile unfolded his paper and showed it. It was blank.
"It's pas'ion," Tone said, and his voice was hushed. "Show us her paper, Radiophile."
Radiophile went over to his wife and forced the slip of paper out of her hand. It
had a black spot on it, the black spot WashingTone-Locian had made the night
before with the heavy pencil. Radiophile held it up, and there was a stir in the
crowd.
"All right, folks," Tone said. "Let's finish quickly."
Although the posters had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box,
they still remembered to use stones. The pile of stones the boys had made earlier
was ready. Genevieve selected a stone so large she had to pick it up with both
hands and turned to RESton Peace. "Come on," she said. "Hurry up."
The children had stones already. And someone gave little eesh a few pebbles.
pas'ion was in the center of a cleared space by now, and she held her hands out
desperately as the posters moved in on her. "It isn't fair," she said. A stone
hit her on the side of the head. Registered Voter was saying, "Come on, come on,
everyone."
"It isn't fair, it isn't right," pas'ion screamed, and then they were upon her.size>face>