"Well..." Jonas had to stop and think it through. "If everythinbitcoin usd kitcog's the same, then there aren't any choices! I want to wake up in the morning and decide things! A blue tunic, or a red one?"
"But you were talking about Newton."uniswap v3 factory contract"Yes, along came Newton. He formulated what we call the Law of Universal Gravitation. This law states that every object attracts every other object with a force that increases in proportion to the size of the objects and decreases in proportion to the distance between the objects."
"I think I understand. For example, there is greater attraction between two elephants than there is between two mice. And there is greater attraction between two elephants in the same zoo than there is between an Indian elephant in India and an African elephant in Africa.""Then you have understood it. And now comes the central point. Newton proved that this attraction--or gravitation--is universal, which means it is operative everywhere, also in space between heavenly bodies. He is said to have gotten this idea while he was sitting under an apple tree. When he saw an apple fall from the tree he had to ask himself if the moon was drawn to earth with the same force, and if this was the reason why the moon continued to orbit the earth to all eternity.""Smart. But not so smart really.""Why not, Sophie?""Well, if the moon was drawn to the earth with the same force that causes the apple to fall, one day the moon would come crashing to earth instead of going round and round it for ever."
"Which brings us to Newton's law on planetary orbits. In the case of how the earth attracts the moon, you are fifty percent right but fifty percent wrong. Why doesn't the moon fall to earth? Because it really is true that the earth's gravitational force attracting the moon is tremendous. Just think of the force required to lift sea level a meter or two at high tide.""I don't think I understand."Limping, Jonas walked home, pushing his bicycle, that evening. The sunburn pain had been so small, in comparison, and had not stayed with him. But this ache lingered.
It was not unendurable, as the pain on the hill had been. Jonas tried to be brave. He remembered that the Chief Elder had said he was brave."Is something wrong, Jonas?" his father asked at the evening meal. "You're so quiet tonight. Aren't you feeling well? Would you like some medication?"But Jonas remembered the rules. No medication for anything related to his training.And no discussion of his training. At the time for sharing-of-feelings, he simply said that he felt tired, that his school lessons had been unusually demanding that day.
He went to his sleeping room early, and from behind the closed door he could hear his parents and sister laughing as they gave Gabriel his evening bath.They have never known pain, he thought. The realization made him feel desperately lonely, and he rubbed his throbbing leg. He eventually slept. Again and again he dreamed of the anguish and the isolation on the forsaken hill.
The daily training continued, and now it always included pain. The agony of the fractured leg began to seem no more than a mild discomfort as The Giver led Jonas firmly, little by little, into the deep and terrible suffering of the past. Each time, in his kindness, The Giver ended the afternoon with a color-filled memory of pleasure: a brisk sail on a blue-green lake; a meadow dotted with yellow wildflowers; an orange sunset behind mountains.It was not enough to assuage the pain that Jonas was beginning, now, to know."Why?" Jonas asked him after he had received a torturous memory in which he had been neglected and unfed; the hunger had caused excruciating spasms in his empty, distended stomach. He lay on the bed, aching. "Why do you and I have to hold these memories?""It gives us wisdom," The Giver replied. "Without wisdom I could not fulfill my function of advising the Committee of Elders when they call upon me."
"But what wisdom do you get from hunger?" Jonas groaned. His stomach still hurt, though the memory had ended."Some years ago," The Giver told him, "before your birth, a lot of citizens petitioned the Committee of Elders. They wanted to increase the rate of births. They wanted each Birthmother to be assigned four births instead of three, so that the population would increase and there would be more Laborers available."Jonas nodded, listening. "That makes sense.""The idea was that certain family units could accommodate an additional child."
Jonas nodded again. "Mine could," he pointed out. "We have Gabriel this year, and it's fun, having a third child.""The Committee of Elders sought my advice," The Giver said. "It made sense to them, too, but it was a new idea, and they came to me for wisdom."
"And you used your memories?"The Giver said yes. "And the strongest memory that came was hunger. It came from many generations back. Centuries back. The population had gotten so big that hunger was everywhere. Excruciating hunger and starvation. It was followed by warfare."
Warfare? It was a concept Jonas did not know. But hunger was familiar to him now. Unconsciously he rubbed his own abdomen, recalling the pain of its unfulfilled needs. "So you described that to them?""They don't want to hear about pain. They just seek the advice. I simply advised them against increasing the population.""But you said that that was before my birth. They hardly ever come to you for advice. Only when they — what was it you said? When they have a problem they've never faced before. When did it happen last?""Do you remember the day when the plane flew over the community?""Yes. I was scared.""So were they. They prepared to shoot it down. But they sought my advice. I told them to wait."
"But how did you know? How did you know the pilot was lost?""I didn't. I used my wisdom, from the memories. I knew that there had been times in the past — terrible times — when people had destroyed others in haste, in fear, and had brought about their own destruction."
Jonas realized something. "That means," he said slowly, "that you have memories of destruction. And you have to give them to me, too, because I have to get the wisdom."The Giver nodded.
"But it will hurt," Jonas said. It wasn't a question."It will hurt terribly," The Giver agreed.
"But why can't everyone have the memories? I think it would seem a little easier if the memories were shared. You and I wouldn't have to bear so much by ourselves, if everybody took a part."The Giver sighed. "You're right," he said. "But then everyone would be burdened and pained. They don't want that. And that's the real reason The Receiver is so vital to them, and so honored. They selected me — and you — to lift that burden from themselves.""When did they decide that?" Jonas asked angrily. "It wasn't fair. Let's change it!""How do you suggest we do that? I've never been able to think of a way, and I'm supposed to be the one with all the wisdom."
"But there are two of us now," Jonas said eagerly. "Together we can think of something!"The Giver watched him with a wry smile.
"Why can't we just apply for a change of rules?" Jonas suggested.The Giver laughed; then Jonas, too, chuckled reluctantly.
"The decision was made long before my time or yours," The Giver said, "and before the previous Receiver, and — " He waited."Back and back and back." Jonas repeated the familiar phrase. Sometimes it had seemed humorous to him. Sometimes it had seemed meaningful and important.
Now it was ominous. It meant, he knew, that nothing could be changed.The new child Gabriel, was growing, and successfully passed the tests of maturity that the Nurturers gave each month; he could sit alone, now, could reach for and grasp small play objects, and he had six teeth. During the day-time hours, Father reported, he was cheerful and seemed of normal intelligence. But he remained fretful at night, whimpering often, needing frequent attention."After all this extra time I've put in with him," Father said one evening after Gabriel had been bathed and was lying, for the moment, hugging his hippo placidly in the small crib that had replaced the basket, "I hope they're not going to decide to release him.""Maybe it would be for the best," Mother suggested. "I know you don't mind getting up with him at night. But the lack of sleep is awfully hard for me."
"If they release Gabriel, can we get another new child as a visitor?" asked Lily. She was kneeling beside the crib, making funny faces at the little one, who was smiling back at her.Jonas's mother rolled her eyes in dismay.
"No," Father said, smiling. He ruffled Lily's hair. "It's very rare, anyway, that a new child status is as uncertain as Gabriel's. It probably won't happen again, for a long time."Anyway," he sighed, "they won't make the decision for a while. Right now we're all preparing for a release we'll probably have to make very soon. There's a Birth-mother who's expecting twin males next month."
"Oh, dear," Mother said, shaking her head. "If they're identical, I hope you're not the one assigned — ""I am. I'm next on the list. I'll have to select the one to be nurtured, and the one to be released. It's usually not hard, though. Usually it's just a matter of birth weight. We release the smaller of the two."