That morning, I woke up to the happy shouts of my siblings as Lorie and Nessie started trying to get them all ready. I watch for a moment as Five, or Kay, tugs on any of Macy’s brown curls that fall close enough, seemingly in awe of hair so similar to his own, while Lorie tries to convince two and three, Rachel and Leya, to wear their coveralls. They start to waiver when he offers to do their hair in a long blonde braid Snapping back to attention I get dressed myself and look for the ones whom they haven’t gotten to yet. “Peter, tie your shoes!” I hear Nessie call after him and see a flash of black hair as he runs out the door. “I’ve got it!” I shout as I follow him. 

Running down the hall, I see him pause in the dining room, staring at the front door. “Peter,” I speak slowly as I would to a hurt dog, successfully making him pause and look back at me, “Don’t even think about-” I don’t get the chance to finish speaking as he makes a beeline for the door. Chasing after him, I watch as he shoves open the door, and takes a step out of sight- Then he lets out a sharp cry. 

“P- Four!” I grab the door frame and use it to keep my momentum as I charge outside. A tall woman, dressed in pale blue silk with silky white hair cascading over her shoulders and a gold laurel pin on her chest stands with his wrist in his hand. Pale blue, the sign of a legal worker. Gold laurel, the promise from the government to kill any rebels. The only thing about her that doesn’t immediately strike me as regal is the dirt on her suit, most likely from Peter’s hand. “Is he your family?” Her voice is cold and heavy, pronouncing the word family with venom. “Yes, I’m so-” 

“What number are you?” 

“Uh, 1F268?” 

“Take him to your parents for proper punishment. Tell the family heads to see me.”

I feel my blood boil a little at the way she speaks like she thinks I’m inferior, but I don’t let it show. I mutter an okay and gently take Peter’s hand, anger growing as I see distinct purple finger-shaped bruises forming already. I shut the door. “I’m sorry, Peter,” I whisper despite the risk of her hearing. Our numbers are our name as far as the legal workers are concerned, but we like to give ourselves some anyway. Family Twenty-six’s tradition. 

Leading Peter back to the room, I handed him off to Pax before explaining what happened to Nessie and Lorie. I followed them to the door and stayed within earshot as they went to listen to the woman. “This is your new child, 6. He will be a harvester at age 7. Raise him accordingly. On another note, I’m sure you have heard of the incident with 4. We will leave his punishment to you, do not let that happen again.” This time, Lorie and Nessie reappeared with a small bundle that held my new brother. I don’t speak, not to name him, not to apologize, not to reassure them. There is nothing I can say to make this go away. Lorie steps forward. “Jamie, do you understand what just happened?” I slowly nod my head. “No, no you do not. If you did, you would be crying.” He speaks softly but firmly, and the confidence in his words makes me want to understand. “No playing tonight. Don’t even take it out. They will be watching.” I bite my lip so I don’t argue back. I can’t, not when he’s this serious, his long black hair still tied up and bags lying heavy under his eyes. Solemnly, I return to my room to finish getting ready.

It’s been a week since we got six, or David as we started calling him. So far he was quiet, just looking off into space. He already had a few wispy blonde hairs on his head, although Peter found it odd. “It looks like he’s bald!” He whispered to Leya the first time he saw him. Security was a bit louder than David, at least for the first three days when a guard had been wandering around near our home, although they quickly stopped. We have all been working hard and acting as normally as possible to get the attention away from us. It seems to be working. The guards have stopped giving me strange looks and legal workers have stopped poking around. I walk to work with a smile on my face. Tonight, I will play loud enough for the neighbors to hear my sound and feel my joy return with my rhythmic bowing. I spend the day upbeat, not daring to hum but tapping my feet anyway. Dr. AF85 notices my mood. “What’s got you so chipper?” I look up from the rabbit whose ear he is currently checking. “Oh, nothing.” I turn back but the stupid smile stays on my face.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy since… well, ever.” 2F267 smiles at me. Just you wait! His family was in the house right across the street from me and he would surely hear it. Not that he could tell anyone, especially since his family had a “habit” of their own, albeit quieter. Still, being quiet didn’t hide the smudge of color against his scrubs that he had missed before going to work. “Must just be the break today.” I shrug, and I do have to admit that is part of it. We rarely got half-days when it came to work, and they were pretty much only for holidays. Doctor just hums.

I walked home with 2F267 with our siblings. He had six, with four (excluding himself) who were old enough to work. I picked up Rachel and Leya from the barn and met Pax and Macy in the city square. I’m not sure what happened, but they seem panicked. Pax’s short hair is messy and he looks as if he ran all the way here, and Macy’s look of fear is overwhelming. I tried to ask 2F267 if he knew what was happening, but he and his siblings had already gone off to their parents. Now that I’m looking, I see many familiar faces in the crowd but even more that I have never met. “C? D?” I barely remember to use legal names, but they still don’t react, not even to look at me. I followed their gaze to the center of the square, where a wooden platform was now. Kneeling in the middle of it was Lorie, two guards on the platform keeping their weapons trained on him. I feel my heart drop in my chest. 

Taking Rachel and Leya’s hands, I take them over to Pax and Macy. “They wouldn’t, would they? I mean, they don’t even-” I'm cut off as a loud voice speaks, the sound echoing through the square and the streets, loud enough for the entire section to hear. 

“Today I regret to inform you that someone among you has broken the law.” The members of the crowd mutter under their breath but I’m too focused on the voice. I know it. “As you all should know, your obligation as a member of the United Sections is to serve for a minimum of 70 years. To aid you in having the healthiest work life possible, not only do we offer 3 free meals a day, but we also give you time for a full eight hours of sleep. Not only has the man before you, AF268 collected and protected contraband,” They pause dramatically and I see them now, the pale blue silk suit and a familiar scowl. The woman from before, standing with a hand over her head, that hand holding a violin. My violin. I barely register the bow in her other hand “He has also blatantly disrespected our kind hours and used his time instead to disrupt the peace,” Liar. I begin pushing through the crowd, my sisters forgotten behind me. “He has even taught his children to disrespect legal figures.” Why is she lying? Do they really believe this? I keep pushing. “He has held such malice and disrespect, that we have concluded that he may not be fixed. As such, he has been sentenced to public rest.”

I’m now close enough to see tears running down his face. “Lorie!” I hear my breath crack as I shout, ignoring the consequences. He turns his face away. I keep yelling his name as the guards push the end of their weapons against his back, two of the guards at the base of the stage coming closer to ensure I don’t cross the fence. I feel hands on my shoulders and arms, others trying to keep me away. My throat begins to feel raw. All at once, the woman drops her arm and the guards thrust their blades forward, sinking them into Lorie’s back, the tips reappearing through the front of his chest. My screaming stops. The square is silent. Lorie was well-known and loved, everyone there knew him one way or another. 

They all know him, but they stay quiet. 

I know him, but I stay quiet. 

The only noise is a small crack as my violin hits the ground, the bow falling next to it a moment later. I sink to my knees and reach through the rail, grabbing hold of both and bringing them to my chest. I stay like that for a while silently. The only noise I hear is the shuffling of the crowd and the dripping of blood through the boards of the stage. Eventually, someone lifts me to my feet, although I don’t care to see who. Maybe it’s a guard coming to kill me too for taking the violin, as if that was a real reason. I know that’s not the case when I hear Pax speaking softly to me. I don’t know what he is saying. I don’t care that much either. I tune him out and listen to the only words I understand or care about, savoring Lorie’s voice.

1-2 days in water, scrape fat off, 5 times every day for a week, soften and scrape guts, split strings, bleach for 4 days, twist together the necessary number of strings, leave out to dry while retwisting occasionally, till stiff and yellow, roughly 7 days, rub with horse hair to smooth, polish with dried grass and olive oil in a cloth, cut to correct length. For lower note strings: wrap them in thin silver wire, then silk at the bottom.

Those words are all I know, my air, my blood, and my thoughts. They hijacked my mind and left a small hum like Lorie was still playing for me like he did when I was little and couldn’t sleep. He can’t be dead, I can’t help but think, not when he still sounds so clear. He can’t because that wouldn’t happen. It just couldn’t. I feel numb as I look down at my violin. The strings have snapped, and there's a thin crack snaking along the side, the bridge is firmly in my hand.  Lorie could fix this. In a way, I was right because Lorie had fixed this a few years ago when my hands were too small and sometimes slipped. This is even better than before, this crack was small enough that it wouldn’t even need filling. Different place, same method. As soon as I was home I wanted to start. 

Instead, I go to Peter, David, and Kay, all of whom are clinging to Nessie. She isn’t crying, but she wants to. I want to too. But I couldn’t cry now, I had to stay strong. I was the oldest of the kids, and there weren’t as many parents now. I take Peter by the hand. “Where’s Lorie? I want Lorie.” He whispered. He’s only six, and next year he’ll be sent to work. He would work with the younger animals, that was the job he had been given. I wanted to hide him away sometimes, he shouldn’t have to work so soon. “Lorie can’t help us anymore. He’s resting now.” Peter’s eyes welled up with tears, and I know he can recover. I’m glad he didn’t see Lorie die, and I’m glad he didn’t see who had killed her. “They came in and turned the place upside down. The sensors picked up the metal on the strings.” Nessie spoke. “I couldn’t stop them.” She stared down at David’s face, and she did not speak again. 

“Come on.” I lead Peter up to our room and ignore the torn-up floorboards. I search and find the small piece of metal, discarded to the side as unimportant. I take it and shove it under the edge of the violin as Lorie had all those years ago, and I begin sliding it around the body, I’m stopped quickly when the metal cuts back into my palm, letting a few drops of blood spill out. Peter gasps. “Don’t worry, It’s only a scratch,” I reassure him, pulling my sleeve over it and hoping it’s thick enough. I’m now glad I chose to wear a long-sleeved white shirt under my scrubs because if I had to find a buffer, I might have just let my palm get cut in half. 

I keep pushing the metal, going around carefully until I meet the starting point. Then, I slide the top of the body off gently, jiggling it out from under the neck. “Get the blue box from the supply closet.” Peter leaves and returns quickly. I grab the jar of wood glue and a brush, gently rubbing the glue into the crack. When I’m satisfied, I grab a small cloth from the box and wipe away excess glue. Grabbing a small metal clamp, I adjust it to hold the crack shut, then do the same with a larger clamp further up. Thankfully, the air isn’t very humid, so it should take four or five hours at most. In the meantime. 

“Now we wait.” I give Peter a small smile. He doesn’t return it, and I’m not even sure he sees it, his gaze fixed on the violin. “Do you want to learn?” He nods slowly, and his hand lightly brushes against his bruise. “I’ll teach you. I mean, the violin is broken right now, but-” I stop myself and lead him to the small bookshelf, only holding a few children’s books focused around animals. Reaching between the shelf and the wall, I pray they didn’t find it when they searched the house. I hold my breath as my hand follows the wall. For too long I don’t feel anything, but then my fingertips hit the papers. I pull out the stack, only held together by three thin strips of leather along the left side. I trace my finger along the hand-drawn pictures from Poppy.

We sit beside each other for a while, trying to pass the time as he mimics playing, fingers hesitantly pressing against hypothetical strings. By the time the hours are up, he knows the basics of the sheet music, along with the rough idea of a few chords. I leave him to keep reading while I turn on the hot plate, putting the glue in a pan over it. While I wait, I remove the clamps and gently sand around the crack until it’s smooth. Then I take the glue off, using a small brush to apply it to the edges of the body and the top plate before sliding the top plate back into place. This time I use a different type of clamp, one with many parts that wrap around the entire body. It needs to set for a few hours, I remember. I feel my stomach twist a bit at the thought. 

That night, I lay awake and stared at the ceiling. A hundred and sixty-five years since the sections were established to ensure the safety of civilians, promising to protect them from war and crime. Eighty-five years since the rebellion. Sixteen years since I was brought here. Nine years since I started studying. Two years since I started my apprenticeship. All that time, and I can’t wait a few hours? It sounds pathetic but I can’t help but be impatient. Over the years the smell of smoked meat that always hung in the air grew sickening, the small quiet, peaceful streets eire, the tiredness and exhaustion heavy on everyone’s shoulders, and the routine of sending my siblings to work was horrifying. They were so young, I was so young, everyone was so young. The pit in my stomach grows, crawling and eating through my body and leaving empty space in its place. I made up my mind then, and I began forming my plan.

When I wake up, I immediately check my violin, removing the clamp. There is still a small, visible line where the crack once was, but that doesn’t bother me. Strings. I need strings. I already knew they wouldn’t have left the string in with the violin alone, but that wouldn’t matter if they hadn’t noticed the batch Lorie had been making. He always insisted on making spares. I used to find it a little annoying, but now I’m thankful as I push open the basement door and push drying clothes aside on the line hanging from the roof, seeing a few strings hung up on a makeshift rack. Judging from the stiffness and the distinct yellow, they must already be done twisting. I gently rub a section- rough. I ran back upstairs and grabbed a cloth and a bit of dry grass from the blue box, then grabbed the olive oil, and poured some onto the grass and cloth. I return to the strings, rubbing the mixture up and down on them, making sure to smooth them out as best I can. 

Now it’s time for the wire. I remember Lorie telling me stories about before the sections, there were special machines that could wrap the wire around the string in seconds. I have to do it by hand. With a small sigh, I pull a section of wire off the roll and prepare myself. It takes hours, and by the end, my fingertips are aching, but it’s done. I have all the strings. All I have to do is attach them. Pushing the string through the tailpiece, I put it through the bridge and neck, then stuck the other end through the peg. I twist it tight, then move on to the next, and the next, and the final one. Finally, I tuned it. When my bow hits the string for what feels like the first time in forever, relief seeps through me. I have to force myself to focus on the sound, twisting the peg back and forth until it’s just right. For the next one, I need to twist it a lot more, but the third one is the quickest. The fourth one just takes a few twists towards me.

I checked the time, I have an hour. I run upstairs and get dressed, brushing my teeth and putting on my shoes. Quickly, I grab paper and write out a note, folding it up and shoving it in my pocket. I feel my nerves jumble up a little more every second as I walk out the door. The streets are crowded with people walking to work, a little too crowded for me right now. I’ll have to wait a little longer. By the time I reach the big white hospital, I’m worried I’ll lose my nerve. I navigate the halls with shaky knees and find Dr. AF85’s room. As expected, 2F267 is there already. “Hi!” I yell as happily as I can manage, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “Uh, hi?” He seemed confused when I let him go. The Doctor chuckles a little, but for the most part, his attention is focused on the reports in his hand. I make sure 2F267 is looking as I pat my pocket as discreetly as I can. I see his hand go to his pocket and know he gets the message. Now I just need to wait.

I leave as soon as it’s dark out, and I travel as quietly as I can to the city square. I feel my heart drop when he isn’t there. I’ll just wait. I think as I approach the wood stage in the middle. It was completely clean, or blood or scuffs from the events of yesterday. It was as if Lorie never existed. It made me sick. “1F268?” I almost jump when I hear him behind me. I spin around to find him in what looks like a bunch of old clothes sewed together to make coveralls, two big cans held in each hand, and a few paintbrushes of varying sizes perched on top. “..Jamie..” I bite my lip and wait for his reaction. Instead of anger, guilt, or even confusion, it’s understanding. “Then call me Noah.” He smiles. “I’m Kali!” One of his sisters pops out from behind him, trailing a little wagon with some more cans in it behind her. “You might not want her to stay the whole time. I don’t plan for this to be entirely safe.” He nods. Popping the lid off one of the cans, he grabs a brush. “We’ve got it covered.” He and his sister do just that, spreading out and throwing paint at the wall, sometimes spelling words, sometimes the symbol that most people haven’t seen outside of history books, a phoenix with its wings spread wide and a small stick of laurel clutched in its talons. The symbol from the last rebellion. Kali opted for a simpler version, a single leaf backed by a circle. Noah focused on a larger phoenix on a wall you could see from almost anywhere in the square. I focused on double, triple, and quadruple checking that my violin was ok.

I ran my finger along the mark where the crack was, hard to see if you don’t know what to look for. By the time I’m confident it’ll be fine, Noah and Kali are done and Noah sends Kali home with the supplies. “Are you ready?” He asks. “I’m not sure, but it’s time.” I grab my bow and hold my breath as I climb onto the stage. I nestle the edge of the violin under my chin and poise my bow. I feel my legs shake as I place the bow against the strings, producing a low hum as they vibrate. The sound is not loud at first, but that quickly changes as I play, my fingers moving quickly up and down the neck to push the strings and create new noises. My eyes slide shut and my ears hear nothing but my violin and my heart beating. The song I play is loud and fast, one of Poppy’s original songs that Lorie had me play thousands of times, albeit in the basement to dampen the noise. Now that it was in the echoey town square, it was a hundred times louder.

About halfway through the song I finally get the courage to open my eyes, almost fumbling when I see how many people are already gathered. A few were talking quietly to one another, but most kept their eyes on me. It looked like they had seemingly rushed outside to listen, some people were even in nightwear. I try to pay them no mind as I turn my attention back to my violin. The next part is the hardest, and the one I could never get just right even under Lorie’s teaching. I try to keep my mind on my hands. I hold my breath and pick up the pace, rushing through chords and barely giving myself the time to move my hand into the next position. I feel my calloused fingers sting from the string but I push it away quickly, breaking my focus for a moment and almost making me play the wrong chord. I’m almost done… I can’t help but let the tension in my chest leave when I finish and move on to the final part, slow, short, and strong. I move through the notes elegantly and hold the last one. 

When I pull my bow away and lower my violin I look out onto the crowd, looking on at faces. There are more than triple than the last time I checked, maybe about a hundred. They seem to be waiting eagerly for something. Noah seems to know what, as he stands on my right and takes the hand holding my bow, raising it over our heads, the bow pointed straight at the sky. Chaos ensues as people shout, raising their fists and pointing into the midnight sky. By now some guards have appeared, but the crowd doesn’t care, shouting and taunting them from a distance. Noah and I jump off the stage and I clutch my instrument close to my chest to protect it from the crowd. The jeering is cut off suddenly when a loud bang rises over the protest. The crowd quiets for a moment before yelling even louder, this time not only angry but scared. “Someone shot!” Noah whispered and made me move faster. 

By the time we reach the edge, it’s a full riot, with rocks and sticks being thrown at windows and guards. Now that I have more space, I hold the violin in position again. I play the song again, this time my eyes wide as the sound of the protest rings loud in the background. Suddenly the song feels complete, the loud angry noise spurring the crowd on and the slower empty parts filled with the breaking of glass and yelling. I feel tears roll down my cheeks and I can’t help but remember what Lorie had said when David first arrived. I now know what this song means. Now I know how rebellion sounds, violent and blaring, but also sad, and hopeful. Hope for peace, and for the tyranny to come to an end.