Free Giver Trilogy 01 - The Giver by Lois Lowry Page A

course.
    The books in his own dwelling were the only books that Jonas had ever seen. He had never known that other books existed.
    But this room's walls were completely covered by bookcases, filled, which reached to the ceiling. There must have been hundreds—perhaps thousands—of books, their titles embossed in shiny letters.
    Jonas stared at them. He couldn't imagine what the thousands of pages contained. Could there be rules beyond the rules that governed the community? Could there be more descriptions of offices and factories and committees?
    He had only a second to look around because he was aware that the man sitting in a chair beside the table was watching him. Hastily he moved forward, stood before the man, bowed slightly, and said, "I'm Jonas."
    "I know. Welcome, Receiver of Memory."
    Jonas recognized the man. He was the Elder who had seemed separate from the others at the Ceremony, though he was dressed in the same special clothing that only Elders wore.
    Jonas looked self-consciously into the pale eyes that mirrored his own.
    "Sir, I apologize for my lack of understanding...."
    He waited, but the man did not give the standard accepting-of-apology response.
    After a moment, Jonas went on, "But I thought—I mean I
think,
" he corrected, reminding himself that if precision of language were ever to be important, it was certainly important
now,
in the presence of this man, "that
you
are the receiver of Memory. I'm only, well, I was only assigned, I mean selected, yesterday. I'm not anything at all. Not yet."
    The man looked at him thoughtfully, silently. It was a look that combined interest, curiosity, concern, and perhaps a little sympathy as well.
    Finally he spoke. "Beginning today, this moment, at least to me, you are The Receiver.
    "I have been The Receiver for a long time. A very, very long time. You can see that, can't you?"
    Jonas nodded. The man was wrinkled, and his eyes, though piercing in their unusual lightness, seemed tired.
The flesh around them was darkened into shadowed circles.
    "I can see that you are very old," Jonas responded with respect. The Old were always given the highest respect.
    The man smiled. He touched the sagging flesh on his own face with amusement. "I am not, actually, as old as I look," he told Jonas. "This job has aged me. I know I look as if I should be scheduled for release very soon. But actually I have a good deal of time left.
    "I was pleased, though, when you were selected. It took them a long time. The failure of the previous selection was ten years ago, and my energy is starting to diminish. I need what strength I have remaining for your training. We have hard and painful work to do, you and I.
    "Please sit down," he said, and gestured toward the nearby chair. Jonas lowered himself onto the soft cushioned seat.
    The man closed his eyes and continued speaking. "When I became a Twelve, I was selected, as you were. I was frightened, as I'm sure you are." He opened his eyes for a moment and peered at Jonas, who nodded.
    The eyes closed again. "I came to this very room to begin my training. It was such a long time ago.
    "The previous Receiver seemed just as old to me as I do to you. He was just as tired as I am today."
    He sat forward suddenly, opened his eyes, and said, "You may ask questions. I have so little experience in describing this process. It is forbidden to talk of it."
    "I know, sir. I have read the instructions," Jonas said.
    "So I may neglect to make things as clear as I should." The man chuckled. "My job is important and has enormous honor. But that does not mean I am perfect, and
when I tried before to train a successor, I failed. Please ask any questions that will help you."
    In his mind, Jonas had questions. A thousand. A
million
questions. As many questions as there were books lining the walls. But he did not ask one, not yet.
    The man sighed, seeming to put his thoughts in order. Then he spoke again. "Simply stated," he said, "although it's not really