sure that the Office of Souls considered it a mercy that adult soulless were even allowed to live.
He was tempted to throw down his spoon and demand that the acolyte bring him a rare steak. Although he had never seen a steak to even understand what it was, he had once heard the acolytes whispering about a celebratory meal where they were going to be served steak. Marius recognized the pleasure in their voices and realized that this was something special, a food to be desired. Marius was sick of being treated like a lowly half-breed; without a soul it was like he was only seen as half-human.
He looked around the room with lidded eyes. There weren't many like him; adult age soulless were uncommon. In fact, most of the creatures that shared the dining room with him were actually desouled criminals. The facility hidden within the wall of the Office of Souls compound was one of the few places deemed "safe" for adult soulless to reside. The Residents would have shunned them anyways, but Marius knew that the real reason was people were afraid of those like him. Without a soul you were untethered from those things that supposedly make someone human. And if you weren't human, then you were something very bad; you were a monster walking around in a human skin.
Marius's appetite disappeared. He pushed the half-eaten bowl away and stood up. He passed into the great hall and stopped in front of the huge mirror that hung next to the door. When he was younger, Marius determined that the idiots in charge had hung the mirror there to ensure that those who lived there could never doubt that they were different from the ensouled. You couldn't start thinking too mightily of yourself when you came face to face with the ugly shell that marked you for all the world to see as a soulless one. There was no lying to the mirror and there was no hiding.
He boldly stepped closer to the mirror's edge. He knew he was tall for an adult; he often towered over the teenage acolytes who had been assigned to the Soulless Asylum after drawing the short straw. He knew that by assigning them here, the Office of Souls instilled an overactive work ethic early on, because the sooner the acolytes got promoted, the sooner they could leave. Likewise, when an acolyte needed to be punished, they found themselves once again back in the halls with “the walking dead.”
The Residents had long ago given adult soulless that cruel nickname. Instead of healthy glowing skin, as soulless aged their mottled skin became greyer and the dark splotches multiplied. Marius understood it, in a way. It was as though their human shell was rotting from the outside in without a soul inside to pretty it up and make it strong.
His coarse hair had started falling out in places. He had heard the acolytes compare his hair to that of a horse. Marius had never seen a horse himself, but he understood by their tone of voice that it wasn't a flattering comparison. But of all of his features, it was his eyes that unsettled the souled ones the most. As the soulless aged, their eyes became more and more crimson until the natural-colored iris was completely devoured leaving only the red. He wondered if that would go away today too. He hoped so.
Marius wasn't disgusted with his appearance anymore. He had never known anything different, and eventually he had grown weary of wishing for something that he thought was forever beyond his grasp. He slowly looked himself over, memorizing every spot and wrinkle. He looked forward to seeing what he would look like in just a few short hours.
"Marius," he heard whispered from around the corner under the stairs.
Marius looked around him, and then cautiously approached the dark cubby. As he got closer, he could make out two beady red eyes watching him. When he was only a few feet away, Chim stepped out into the light and then shaded his eyes. Chim was sensitive to the light, which Marius had overheard was unusual for a soulless. But it didn't bother him; Marius was unusual too.
"Chim," he said in greeting.
"You get the book?" Chim asked without saying hello. Chim was like that.
"It's in my room," Marius replied. He had hidden it underneath his mattress. The acolytes were supposed to check for hoarded food every night at lights out, but Marius couldn't remember the last time they had actually done it. The fact that the Office of Souls’ staff had grown so lazy around the soulless was a gift that Marius was thankful for today. It made it that much easier to hide other things.
"You didn't have any trouble, right?" Chim asked. He looked over his shoulder as if expecting someone to pop out of the wall behind him.
"No," Marius replied. "Everyone is so caught up preparing for today's Soul Distribution Day that nobody was watching the library. I was able to sneak in without anyone seeing me. Although if you hadn't told me where to look for it, there is no way I would have found it. That locator spell you taught me took me right to it. It had a different name on it, just like you said. But I still don't understand why you needed it or why you couldn't get it."
"The book is necessary for the ritual, and as to why I couldn't get it, let's just say that the Head Master's little safety precautions prevented it."
There were a lot of things that Chim didn't seem interested in sharing with Marius, but he knew he didn't have much of a choice but to play along.
Chim waved his hand and grinned. "Don't worry Marius. The Head Master thinks he's the only one who can commune with the souls, but he's wrong. He's grown old and weak. It's time to shake things up a bit around here."
Marius wasn't familiar with emotions like fear, but he thought that the way Chim looked at that moment would have made a souled one afraid. In addition to his light sensitivity, Chim seemed to have a wide range of regular emotions. In fact, if Chim didn't look like a soulless, Marius thought he could easily pass amongst the Residents undetected. There were so many things Chim knew that Marius had never heard of before, but when it came down to it, he didn't care. Marius was due a soul, and if the Office of Souls wouldn't give him one, he was going to take one.
"You sure this is going to work?" he asked for what was probably the hundredth time.
Chim grinned again. "My friend, by this time tomorrow, you are going to feel like you rule the world."
BISHOP
Bishop had the same routine every day except for the two days leading up to Soul Distribution Day, and the day itself. On those days, Bishop was forced to work around small swarms of acolytes who inevitably were right in the middle of every spot in the garden that he needed to tend.
Bishop had attempted over the years to establish a rhyme or reason for the cluster of movements through the garden. They methodically covered every square inch inside the perimeter in their travels. Bishop tried on more than one occasion to work close enough to one of the groups to see if he could tell what they were doing, but no sooner would he get within twenty feet, they would all turn and stare at him in unison. Bishop would stammer out a swift apology, turn bright red, and slither away.
For a while he kept a journal, keeping track of each place where he saw a swarm and details like how many there were in the group, who they were, where they were in the garden, and what time of day it was. But after noting the routines across several Soul Distribution Days, he came back to his small room after work one day and found the journal missing. He couldn't ask where it had gone without having to admit that he was curious about the ritual---something he was sure the administration knew full well. So Bishop said nothing. But if anything, that experience confirmed for him something he had always suspected: he was being watched.
He figured they had been watching him ever since the incident with the fountain. The Office of Souls didn't like wild cards, and there wasn't much they didn't know. Their spies were everywhere. So Bishop went back to tending the garden and tried to lock his curiosity deep down inside where he could forget about it.
On Soul Distribution Day 3675, Bishop was in the far east corner of the garden pruning a Braber shrub and trying to get work done while avoiding the swarms of acolytes that had descended on the garden that morning. Soul Distribution Days were the worst. Bishop felt like he couldn't turn around without tripping over some wayward acolyte who had gotten lost trying to find his group.
The garden was like that if you weren't paying attention.
On Soul Distribution Days, Bishop thought that the fountain was just as eager to release its bounty as the never-ending line of parents with their squalling, mottled soulless infants were to receive it. Bishop had never been allowed to watch the ceremony; in fact he was expressly ordered out of the garden shortly before the ceremony began. He couldn't help wandering past the garden's entrance though in hopes of seeing what the hubbub was about.
Sometimes he'd sit outside by the equipment garages in the compound parking lot and watch the overjoyed parents emerge with their shiny cheeked babies. The women usually had tear-streaked faces and the men strutted around proud as peacocks. The babies were always cooing and smiling, and the parents showed off their infants like they were brand new toys. Then they all would get into their cars and drive off into their new lives.
Bishop wondered what it was like to have a soulless baby. The stark contrast between the strained faces of the parents when they arrived, and the almost maniac joyfulness when they emerged triumphant from the garden with a baby that was now-normal was obvious.
He wondered about his own parents. He wished he remembered them. But all he remembered was being in the garden.
"Bishop?"
Hearing his name called broke him out of his reverie. He turned and saw the Lead Acolyte, Samuel, hurrying in his direction.
"Yes sir," he said as Samuel planted himself in front of him. "Something I can do for you?" Bishop looked at the ground at Samuel's feet. Even though many years had passed since the incident at the fountain, he could feel his cheeks warm as blood rushed into his face. He was still embarrassed that this boy had saved him from the creature in the fountain. They had never spoken of the incident, but Bishop wondered if Samuel remembered it like he did.
"Actually, yes Bishop," Samuel glanced around them. The closest swarm was about a hundred feet away. "The Head Master has a special assignment for you today."
Bishop raised his eyebrows. This was certainly new. "I don't normally participate in the ceremony," he said slowly, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. He would love to be allowed to watch an actual soul implantation. He had envisioned it so many times that he thought it had to be done just the way he imagined.
Samuel shook his head, "Oh no. Nothing to do with the ceremony."
Bishop felt deflated once again. He never got to be part of the good stuff.
Samuel didn't seem to notice. "The Head Master would like you to wait outside the entrance to the garden and ensure that the only ones allowed to pass are the Chosen and their parents, in addition to me and the Head Master. The other acolytes will not be in attendance today."
"Who else would want to come in?" Bishop asked. He didn't understand the Head Master's request. Even though he didn't know it for certain, after watching the swarms of acolytes in the garden over the years, he was fairly certain that they were casting some sort of spell on the garden to ward off those with evil intentions. Or the spell protected everyone outside the garden from the things that lurked in the fountain. Either way, Bishop couldn't see anyone being eager to get in without permission.
"Bishop, I understand that this request seems a bit unusual, but it is a direct order from the Head Master," Samuel said sternly.
Bishop caught the drift quickly enough. Do what you're told. The Head Master doesn't have to explain himself to the likes of you. "Of course I'll do whatever the Head Master needs me to do."
Samuel nodded. "Thank you, Bishop. The Head Master said that you can return to your regular duties