Work Text:
The Giver expected turmoil. He expected chaos, he expected backlash. It wasn't immediate like he anticipated initially, he expected a flood of anguish like with Rosemary's, his sweet daughter and apprentice. The last Reciever of Memories, releasing those memories and the outward bounds of their community. And more importantly, his joy- her life. A pain and sacrifice that should never have been. He expected a more immediate reaction to the memories, though hopefully with fewer pleas and demands for release with the waves of wisdom Jonas was about to unleash; dead or alive. The Giver hoped for the latter. The Giver expected people to be begging, in tears, a flurry of inner and outer mayhem to wave over the masses of people. Predicting communities to come from far and wide insisting on new ideas, insisting to go back to how things were, for some to stay, and other ideas based on what they knew to be upscaled. Did he expect...more? Maybe that was the old man's folly or a bit egotistical and dramatic of him, but it seemed a bit lackluster like nothing happened at all. As it had been for naught, he was surprised by how frustrated this struck his nerve. No, this wasn't about people flocking to him for his honorable wisdom. This was about Jonas' sacrifice, to do what no one had done in their recent history and carry out love in such a way that demands a call to action. And aim for truth towards the emotional depth that their people were owed, that they now lacked.
Again and again, Jonas would beg, where was it? The undeniable question and unanswerable solution to their problem. Where was their humanity if it was stripped of them for this Sameness?
At first, it was nothing, had Jonas somehow failed? It had been weeks and his own memories seemed to lift, everything returned back to that of a glitter of grayscale. Insignificant and free of hues that painted dullness through life. The light has licked nothing beautiful anymore and what if this was all for nothing and Jonas was—
No. Full stop, he would not allow the thought to come to pass. He had to have faith, and strength, and ex-communicate doubt and strife from his mind. It didn't have to go this way, he had no more room for what-ifs and anguish like his fretful worry as a father all those years ago. This time was different. He had to be strong for when something became much more noticeable, he needed to be careful for the people of his community.
The Giver needed to show strength in hard times. This was all that he had left to give; his support, and trust in those around him. Whenever the newness finally registered among his people. It didn't start the way he intended.
Some people reported strange sounds and confusion amongst qualities that seemed out of the ordinary. Colors, he reassured them, in many different shades. Music for those that could register the pitches like that of a curious dog with their ears perked up. Some were more curious about the scents surrounding them. Taste became more apparent. Senses seemed to be more immature, but very overpowering overall. The fruitfulness of life was coming back like winter finally breaking. People began to take notice of the world around them differently. There was an antique feeling of joy, but with joy came other experiences that no one would be prepared for. That's how he knew Jonas had come to complete his goal a month later.
Words couldn't describe these things... Feelings arise that couldn't be described even more. No one had the experience for it until the memories, horrible memories of all varieties. There was an inclining of perceived experience, but it was so scattered and spreading throughout the people's subconscious, they didn't know what to do with themselves.
Elders now held knowledge they didn't have the wisdom for. There was an overbearing sense of worry and fatigue that came over The Community. A weight that no one could describe or comprehend, there was no modern-day comparison for it. The illusion of letting it be erased from the very cells and genetic coding throughout these people eventually came as a shock when they finally gained it back into their psyche and the nervous system again. It was a blockage of pain, welled emotion, and disruption for them in their daily lives. Their work and their roles in the Community were important, what or who were they if they could not perform them? It ruptured the way they viewed the world around them and finally, The Giver’s true work has begun.
First, the Elders came to him, then it was the Nuturers and those that worked with the House of the Old. People of all ages and assignments needed his assistance, one by one. He was able to provide aid to those in one-on-one sessions; therapy. It was the word they used to have when people suffered trauma and couldn't cope on their own.
There was no longer a need for therapy in a world without trauma, no real stress, worry, feelings of true loss, or loneliness to overcome. Now people were given overwhelming doses of what it meant to know joy and sorrow, and some needed help navigating such twisting work.
It became to the point the Giver was given access to the speaker to calm everyone. First, it was calming words, it rang through each community after touring each structure of micro-society they have become too overwhelming for an aging man. Every morning and every evening he held an hour each day to help provide words of comfort and a sense of rationalizing what he had come to understand.
"I know that you must have questions about everything you may know and understand now. Endless questions, I am here to now be a voice of comfort, to show you that these memories provide support and sharing this builds wisdom, and the pain is released— it dies when you unite and explore the emotions you've experienced. There is no deeper understanding than feeling what cannot be described, but when you look around and see you're not alone in bearing the pain that our people once knew a long, long, long time ago, there's a sense of security and even relief over time that reminds us there is more. We now have the burden of choosing our choices on more individual levels. Our Elders still provide us with guidance and studious care for one and all, but it's up to you how you wish your life to mean more and to alleviate that pain. Yours to bear; ours collectively to bear, together."
The Giver did his best to not feel as though he burdened humanity with this chaos. People often found blame, enjoying the simplicity, loathing the pain and those delivering it to them. They found new words, and new curses with each new feeling. The present pressure of experiencing it was strange for The Giver, resentment directly aimed at him. Times of shared catharsis. Mixed emotions as he passes by on the streets. Several Elders divided on his wisdom, choosing sides, becoming frustrated and divisive over new decisions before reducing it to blaming The Giver that remained before them for their downfall.
Swarming with these new experiences, the only thing he could turn to again was his love for music. Some were able to register this gift to the world, some only heard his voice, and others resonated with his other broadcasts. He read to his world for as far as it could carry his words. They might not understand, like how it took him years to maintain wisdom, he felt lighter even if he gave and gave endlessly until insomnia took over many, and himself. They had a hunger, day and night, and it wasn't just the memory of starvation and its effect on the body or someone else they encountered. Their very souls understood they needed more. Without knowing quite where to place this desire; this need. With each scream, each cry, the silence was weighed with this that pervaded his own words and the airwaves that carried them.
Months passed and he found that this was all he was doing, creating instruments, and recreating them to the best of his ability before turning to Crafters, Laborers, and the Directors of Recreation for their support to uplift, create, and circulate the desires that his people needed to hold onto. His broadcasts were filled with music, more people knew music, and more people learned and created music. Their world was filled with different songs and art that reflected this pain they couldn't describe. The Elders created new roles of Assignments to support each person's widened interests to support the influx of influence and information that must be passed on. Historians were created to pass on the passion and memory of their people back and back and back. There was a demand, a clawing, gnawing yearning to support the feeling in one's heart. It went beyond the simple function of pumping of blood, but the flow of energy that it carried with it.
This was what was most important, this was what needed to be preserved even if many things didn't change immediately, at least it called for the action to accept change. The Sameness became just as scary and unpredictable as the different uncertainties that permeated their lives. Eventually, people perked up for more changes and created more ideas to circulate for the Elders to accept to study for changes. A joke that often was brushed aside became more urgent, discussion for rules to be changed, materials such as The Giver's books to be revealed to the public for their own consultation, their own study, some still clung to old ways in fear, natural division and apprehensive to change persists always, but that didn't mean there was a call to abolish change or resist it so hastily. It was a change that everyone knew and no one could deny. Not even the medication denied these feelings anymore.
They soon became called into question, and the art of Release soon perked the attention of the practitioners once they recognized some of the telltale signs that mirrored their memories and haunted their dreams. Cries broke out against the cruelty it implied. That was where an uproar and true riot came forth, many wondered more and speculated their origins and connection amongst their peers. Family and Love were once obsolete, but some Historians brought them into question yet again, wondering whether these were truly better or worse off. After all, there was no real harm in questions, as they often brought upon more questions rather than answers or even clear choices and definitive decisions. This begins the real horror that sprang yet again amongst the minds of the Community and its neighboring communities. Should we be allowed to decide? Much less question the state of our lives? What was more dangerous? To control our lives, free will, and minds or to allow The Elder committee to control it for us that they, too, once took instruction blindly to implement?