Josiah the Reformer

by Jared Wallace Carter

CHAPTER 3

  If nature had been allowed to take its course, the time of day would have been noon, and noon would have been the tenth hour of the day. However, nature had nothing to do with the fourth colony, and the fourth colony had nothing to do with daylight. Daylight had no bearings on the current time, for the clock showed noon with noon being the twelfth hour of the day. Twenty-one days had passed within the structure, twenty-five outside, and with every day that passed inside, the people yearned for a day outside, but a day outside of the walls was not possible. News came about that disaster had come by storm and exiting was temporarily impossible due to extensive damage to the gates, just as the officer predicted. The people were trapped inside, but they never considered the possibility that the gates would never be repaired. So they trudged along, working and communing, and biding their time until they could venture out into an alien landscape. They would soon be living their lives just as they had before, only this time without war, without the dullness, without legalism, without the politics of the radical party, or without whatever a colonist had come for. They would never quite know it, but instead, what they got was a life without fulfillment.

  Their realization of what was truly going on was altogether absent. Likewise, the catalyst needed for the encouragement of thinking and questioning was absent. The people simply tended to their jobs and obligations. Each person had a specified work to do which seemed to keep them idly busy while still being productive for the on-going of the economy and for the well-being of the people. The people were kept isolated in their individual jobs and kept from seeing the synergy of their efforts. They knew their responsibility, they knew what their responsibility did, however they did not know how their responsibility tied in with others’ responsibilities. There was no purpose given to the people, just work. It was the intelligence of the Captain which came to this conclusion. Man finds enjoyment in purpose and fulfilling that purpose. In the opposite effect, man despises a lack of purpose and becomes weary in fulfilling nonsensical work. With this in mind, the goal was not to gain weariness by annoyances since repetitive annoyances would eventually lead to a hatred toward the work. That hatred would then serve as the catalyst needed to cause some sort of rebellion. The goal was indifference, a constant feeling of neither hatred nor enjoyment but of simple apathy. The Captain and his men saw to it that the people did not care enough about the work to want to do it while at the same time did not despise the work enough to not want to do it. The work should just be done.

  In order for this to happen, motivation was needed. Just like any job, the real motivation did not lie in internal motives of the individual but in the promise of payment. However, in the current condition, in the humble beginnings of the colony, there was no money. Promises of a currency-based economy were given. Supposedly they were to use the same as the motherland. But for the present, the economy and the paycheck were given in amounts payable as upgrades or downgrades. In this economy, depending on how one worked, one could theoretically receive a paycheck for negative amounts. Everyone received food, everyone received housing, and everyone received needed goods, but not everyone received luxury. A man’s comfort in living was directly related to his work ethic. However, there were certain positions in the work force that were deemed more important than others, and those positions received higher luxury with less input because the position required more than the normal amount of intelligence. The harder a person worked, the more hours he worked, the skills he had and learned were all taken into account to provide him with whatever housing and food quality that matched his worth in the workplace. No man was ever poor. No man was ever too uncomfortable in his housing. Others were simply better or worse off. This was, and would continue to be, the basis of the economy.

  The majority of the inhabitants were very close to the same age, with the average age being thirty. The oldest was a man of sixty who had been specially recruited for the developmental work of colonial technology. As far as the Captain was concerned, ten years was enough time for his work to be done in. If he lived longer, it was good but not necessary. The youngest was an eight year old girl, the daughter of a recruited agricultural technician. All the inhabitants had either been recruited or carefully included. Thirty had been deemed the proper age, old enough to be mature, yet young enough to be able to start a fresh family and continue the colony for a good while longer. There were very few children, and if the Captain had had his way, there would have been none. Their inclusion was part of a compromise. The colony needed certain recruits for their particular talents, and those recruits would not be enticed to come without their families. Upon hearing of one particular recruit, Jack had made a special visit to the General, expounding on the cruelness and inconsiderateness of such a promise made. Jack had only learned of this after the fact and was too late, and so he could only vent his frustrations upon the listening General. “There was no call for such a pretense!” Such a shout was heard by all in the bar, and even some outside, for Jack had intentionally disrupted the General’s Tuesday night. However, the only thing left to be done was to let it play out and let the man play his part.

  “I wouldn't call myself an explorer, at least not in the likes of Lewis and Clarke.”

  Needless to say, the Captain was pleased to have this man aboard, even if that had been his only reference. He was a man of short-stature and a red face. He always walked about in the clothes of his past excursions. Many said that he had a case of the Napoleon complex, though few could say who or what Napoleon was. He was always willing to boast of himself and of his expeditions and hunts, though few ever wanted to listen through his entire saga. So whenever he met someone new, he always poured out his tales and opinions firstly and quickly in order to say all of what he wanted to say.

  “Who?” said the poor, unfortunate inhabitant who naively lent an ear.

  “Never mind. But I am quite the traveler and have been to numerous places considered to be among the most beautiful places on the planet. However, the most memorable of my travels were to the ruins of the beauty in West America. The places were absolutely horrendous but incredibly beautiful at the same time. It requires imagination. What did it used to be? In its fullness, what must it have looked like?”

  “We know what it looked like. We have photographs.”

  “That is true, and it does help in the process of imagining, but it's not the same. When you're there, no photograph is really in mind. It's almost as if you had never seen any in the first place. It's almost as if the place in reality and in the photograph is two different places. In fact, they pretty much are. It's very much a shame.”

  “What's a shame?”

  “The ruins, the destruction of the natural monuments. It’s true, however, that the Leutians proved themselves to be the most civilized enemies in history, using such tactics as to avoid the loss of life. If they had used their peculiar nuclear weapons on the cities, then they could have been thoroughly wiped. Millions upon millions. But their warnings did enough damage to the lands and made West America bow. It turns out that their tactics had another effect. Against nationalism. By destroying the beauty that made the nation itself, by bombing the actual land, it hit emotions quite hard. The Leutians are smart. They are not killers if they don’t have to be, but because they killed the land, the very scenes represented on the currency, the national monuments that were world renowned, a great depression occurred.

  “You can rebuild a structure. You can hold a memorial for those that were lost in an attack, but there is no bringing back the amazing beauty in those places. The land's majesty was attacked and destroyed, and no one ever expected it. Why would anyone ever bomb the high mountains just to bomb the high mountains? No one would have ever thought that the great dome would ever fall. Why would it? That's why it hit them so hard. They thought it would stand for eternity, but now it's no longer a dome at all.

  “They weren't thoroughly destroyed though. The bitterest fact is that there still remains enough of the dome to know
it used to be something great. It's this reminder to the people that they can't have what they used to have. It's like something at the tip of their fingers that they cannot reach. There is a strange loneliness in knowing that your home has been desecrated. It's that loneliness that destroyed the nationalism because in a sense, it was no longer the same nation. You want to be able to fix it, but you just can't. No one can.

  “Disappointing for the adventurers who would have loved to see it in its prime. I would have loved to see the geyser fields and the glaciers and the glades but it's of no importance now. I've come to a new place to find such things, to be a Lewis or a Clarke, maybe even a Columbus. That's exactly why I've come here. You can always scan from the sky and get the topography, but the eye serves such more purpose in declaring beauty. I'll find a new dome, a greater dome, figuratively of course. I doubt many glaciers have scored this land. But there's something out there that is so bizarre that it's gorgeous, even more bizarre than the fields of sculpted columns that were bombed.”

  “So you think there's something like that here? I guess there could be as large as it is. However, I'm guessing that the land isn't as hospitable as home nor, from what I've heard, is it as full of vegetation.”

  “Of what we know. But I think that we don't know much. The topographic maps that have been graphed show some promising points that I shall check. The bottom line is that this land needs beauty. The colony needs attractions just as any does. We can't live in a boring land. It's not good for business. It's especially not good for nationalism.”

  “How much has been mapped out?”

  “All of it, which makes my job a little bit easier, but a little bit tedious having to sort through all those maps. I should be getting them soon and when I do, after I’ve done my pin-pointing and marking, I’ll be off, surviving as a traveler and explorer.”

  The non-exploring man couldn’t help but to give a small chuckle at the idea of the man peering over an infinite number of pieces of maps.

  “What’s funny about that? What’s so funny?”

  “You mean to tell me that you’re going to sift through detailed maps of the entire globe and ‘pin-point’ whatever looks to be a possible piece of scenery? You’re never going to find anything at that rate. You won’t even make it out of the colony. What if there are no grand monuments to be found? What if the points of interest you say you have found turn out to be a bunch of mediocre scenery?”

  “Then I’ll keep looking. I’ll keep looking till I find something even if it takes my whole life.”

  The man would repeat his monologue to anybody who would lend their attention. He did so until the day he lost his memory. All of the inhabitants were to be pitied, but it was Jack’s opinion that this man was to be pitied above all. Only no one else had the knowledge and the heart to do so.

  ---

  The rookie had struggled through numerous ideas concerning the Captain’s orders. How was he supposed to collect all the books? Every single one of them? They must have numbered into the tens of thousands. Taking them by force was out of the question. That would not only infuriate the people and cause suspicions, but it would also at the same time tie up all their manpower. With the inhabitants already in such a fragile state, they could not afford to use the men needed to collect the books and still have enough men to handle the mess created by it. He concluded that it would have to be done with intelligence, and, if possible, with no one but himself. That was the very reason he gave me these orders, the rookie thought. He just needed a way to persuade the people to give their books up willingly. And soon. Since the plan was working and the people were confused and forgetful, the surest thing to remind them of their own past was the books and journals they had close at hand every day. Find three, he kept whispering to himself. Find three. Find three.

  He sat at a desk in an office given to him, quite bare. The paper that sat on his desk was just as bare and his pencil had no eraser for he had chewed it off in his nervous thinking. He slipped on his jacket without thinking as it had subtly grown colder in his area. He had been told by the military man on his tour of the colony that the heating system was a little weak in that particular area. He had said that as he was explaining the master thermostat. It was quite important because in the outside world, the nights with their chill were just as deadly as the days with their heat. The thermostat regulated the temperature at a comfortable seventy degrees. However, the nearest unit to the rookie’s office needed repairs. For some reason or another, it was not putting off enough heat. It must be dark outside right now, he thought. However, no desire or curiosity to see if it was night or day accompanied his thought.

  It had taken several days, mounds of crumpled paper, and multiple damaged pencils for the rookie to have his epiphany. It came to him as he was putting on his jacket.

  In three days’ time the rookie had the temperature drop to twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit, not quite deadly but far beyond comfortable. All the inhabitants were bundled up with all that they had, but none were quite prepared for this. They had been told that the temperature of the land was consistent with that of their tropics. They were miserable, they were befuddled, and they were desperate. Another day passed by at twenty-five degrees for good measure.

  “My good people,” the rookie announced in the commons packed full of people who had gathered upon instruction and who huddled even closer just for warmth, “the system of electric heaters has gone out and is under repair.” This was immediately followed by menacing murmurs from the crowd who were beginning to think that the colony was slowly falling to pieces. “But do not worry. Don’t murmur amongst yourselves and do nothing. There is a way that we can heat the place up again. We have a furnace as a back-up measure, but we have no fuel. In order to get the temperature up the quickest, we must burn paper. It is paper that burns the hottest and the longest.” He hesitated after the last statement, hoping he had not gone too far. However, the people were desperate enough to want to believe it and so they did. “We need to collect all of the books and journals and magazines. Anything and everything that is paper or has paper in it. It is essential,” he strongly emphasized essential, “that everyone give everything that they have. So donate all of your books and journals and papers, then check to see if your neighbor has done the same. If we do not get the furnace going as soon as possible and if we are not able to keep the furnace going, the temperature will drop lower, and we will all be in danger of death.” A little dramatic, he thought, but it seemed to be working. “It is so essential that we have everything that if anyone is found with books or journals or any type of paper, they will be severely penalized. Did you hear me? If you hold back anything, you will be severely punished. This is for our own well-being. We must have every single bit. Every moment counts.”

  The books piled quickly. The amount was much more than he had anticipated, but he dared not show his surprise. The inhabitants took his last statement to heart and they hurried back, some with arm-loads and some with cart-loads. All the tales of different worlds, different people, and different lives would be thrown into the fire. Fantasy, romance, adventure were all to be burned. The recollections of their own past, their families, their old homes, their fond memories, they too would be burned to keep the people warm. Despite the steadily increasing amount, hardbacks, paperbacks, leather-bounds, the Rookie insisted upon expounding in his encouragement. The temperature was therefore lowered another five degrees.

  “My people,” he began again, “my people, the furnace has been fired up.” A cheerful murmur arose from the cold crowd. “But we still need as much paper as we can get. We still need all of it. It’s not too much to ask. So bring out your books! Bring out your journals! Bring out your stories! Bring out your empty pages!” He felt a strange sense of excitement as he stood upon the table, addressing the crowd below with a loud voice. He swelled as he saw them respond like hard-working ants, back and forth, streaming in steady lines, placing their pages upon the enormous pile. They had no idea.


  Everyone seemed to heed his words. Some more than others, perhaps those who felt chilled the deepest or those who wanted to exploit their chance of exercising authority, took strongly to his command to search their neighbors. He had used penalization as a scare tactic with hopes that all would willingly comply. He had never been keen on delivering the punishment to the disobedient. However, those searchers found their neighbors guilty of not parting with their treasures and brought them before the rookie. What sickened him the most was not that he had been disobeyed, but that those who had delivered their guilty neighbors to him smiled so self-righteously. The Captain was impressed with the Rookie’s tactics and briefly said so at some point later. The only part the Captain actually played in this charade was to suggest that the guilty people not be punished too severely. Make an example, but don’t dishearten the people. The advice was taken. The Rookie turned those found guilty over to another military man who stood by the book pile. The man had once been a drill sergeant and so it seemed very practical for this man to be the scolder rather than the rookie. He was pleased to hand them over and be a spectator with the rest of the colony

  “ARE YOU SHIVERING?”

  Whether it was the still low temperatures or the fright of the man’s loud and intimidating voice, no one could tell, perhaps it was both, but everyone, even those far in the background, could tell that their guilty neighbors shivered violently and uncontrollably.

  “I THOUGH YOU WANTED TO BE COLD! YOU MUST LIKE IT! WHY ELSE WOULD KEEP YOUR BOOKS! I SAID WHY DID YOU KEEP YOUR BOOKS!”

  One mumbled something between his chattering teeth along the lines that only one didn’t matter and that it was very important to him.

  “MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR LIFE? MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR LIFE?”

  No one heard the meekly said ‘no, sir’ escape his lips.

  “IF EVERYONE THOUGHT THE SAME AS YOU, WE MIGHT DIE BY TOMORROW! ONE DOESN’T MATTER? ONE ABSOLUTELY MATTERS! DID YOU NOT HEAR WHAT THIS MAN SAID? EVERY SINGLE PIECE OF PAPER MATTERS!”

  This went on for some time. It was not often that he was able to fall back into his old habits and he quite enjoyed it. Those guilty were reprimanded publicly, and those viewing wanted nothing more than to be unnoticed. In addition to their reprimand, they were sentenced to hard labor, organizing the tens of thousands, if not a hundred thousand, books into a manageable way so that they could be delivered to the furnace. However they were not to be the ones to deliver. It was still the Rookie’s responsibility to see that they were successfully collected and stored.

  “If there is anyone else holding back any book or paper, we will give you a chance to do so without punishment. We will not continue with the furnace until we are sure that we have it all.”

  After a measly amount of books had been brought forth after the rookie’s last words, and after the vigilant searchers no longer brought forth anyone else, he was quite confident that they had every piece of writing was brought forth. He then had to ensure that they were never seen again

  .

  ---

  Many days had gone, even more on the outside. With every single day that passed, the working day increased. They would go in earlier but still on time. They would finish later but still on time. Every night grew shorter, but the clocks still showed the same count. The people grew weary. Everyone felt it, but no one explained it. They were too tired. This naturally led to a decrease in the work efficiency, but that hardly mattered since that was very much taken into account. The necessary work was still getting accomplished. If there was ever any fall back in the necessities, those in uniform with clear minds would step in and help.

  Minds grew weaker. The outside world faded due to the busyness of the work day, due to exhaustion of their minds, and due to the daily dose of medication which the people were told would give them more energy. It didn’t. Without anything to refer to the things of home, home was forgotten. The gates were still under repair, but they too were long forgotten by most. They were the only people in the world between the walls. They were the only people that existed.

  It was for this time specifically that men like the Rookie had been recruited. Intelligence and persuasion were needed to keep the fragile state from breaking.

  A man in the well-known colony uniform was standing in position at his post. He had never been a part of a military unit nor the IFA but had been recruited nonetheless for his persuasion skills. He had been a spokesperson for a variety of tobacco companies during his previous ten years and had the biggest role in overturning its prohibition in the years before, provoked by cigarette companies which used catalytic carcinogens ‘on a genuine mistake.’ He was a very wealthy man, but, as seemed to be a trend among the recruited, money had not lured him to the colony. Money meant nothing to him. It was the chance and the challenge. Because of men like him, the colony military was very unmilitaristic, though there were those who knew nothing but conventional military, and consisted of such a wide variety of recruits that the unit was rather more like a company of idealistic anarchists.

  “Can we not go outside?” It was such a straight-forward question. The woman was rather confused as to why she didn't think she could venture outside and also as to why she was even asking the question. It was as if she was just passing through and had abruptly asked without ever having the intention. This had startled the uniformed man, but he didn’t miss a beat. He couldn’t afford to.

  “Outside? What do you mean by this? Can anyone go out of a side?”

  “Out of here, I mean, to the outdoors.”

  “Again, ma'am, I must admit I don't quite follow your logic. The way I see it, we have always only been able to go through doors. We cannot go into the doors, nor does it seem that we can go out of the doors.” The man paused with a fake sigh. “Shall I call the nurse for you, ma'am?”

  “No! I just want to be outside, with the sun and the grass and the trees. I just want to be outside.” The more confused she felt, the more agitatedly she reacted.

  “Ma'am, please, I still do not follow you. You are just talking nonsense. What is the sun, what is grass, what are trees? Please, allow me to call for the nurse. I really believe you are taking on a fever of sorts.”

  “What? I do not have - What do you mean, what is the sun? Is it not the great light in the sky that gives us the day, which warms us and, and - What do you mean, what is the sun? And the grass, the green grass that comes from the ground. Are you to say that you do not know?”

  “Ah, but of course, I now know. You have been dreaming. You can't always tell dreams from reality, you know. The mind is incredibly complex, even to the point where it even tricks itself. My mind has done so to me on occasion. I once dreamed that I was looking into this hole that had no ending so if anything were to be dropped down into it, it would never find a bottom. The next day after the dream, I went to look for it, only to never find it. Then it came to me long after this, that the hole was just an exaggeration of a sink pipe I had been looking down into. The hole that I searched for but never found was not able to be found simply because it did not exist. It was all a dream and the dream was just an exaggeration.” He straightened his hat as well as his jacket. “Let me guess. Does this 'sun', does it show up as you wake?”

  “Well, yes. So you do know about it?”

  “And does it disappear as you retire to sleep?”

  “Then why do you say there is no sun if you know about it?”

  “Ma'am, don't you realize? What you think to be the sun is simply your mind exaggerating the light in your room. The light is above you and as you wake, the light is on. As you sleep, the light goes off. It was a dream, ma'am. The sun is simply the light in your room. And as for the grass, it is an exaggeration as well, most likely of the floor in the common area. It is surely green, you know.”

  “But it was so real, and not just real, but I feel like I've seen it many times before.”

  “Of course, ma'am. Dreams reoccur many times, especially if you are exposed to
the subject of your dream every single day.”

  “Maybe you're right. Maybe…” She thought deeply as if trying to remember her dreams. “But it just seems so real.” She was talking quietly to herself. Her expressions betrayed her acceptance. “If you are right, sir, I really should go to the nurse!”

  “I think you will be fine. I'm sure it is just a case of delusional dreams, but I'll have the nurse give you something to calm your nerves. Please allow a fellow of mine to take you in my stead for I need to remain at post, if you don't mind.”

  “Not at all, sir, but I think I'm alright to go myself.”

  “Indeed, but it would make me feel a little better to have you escorted.”

  “Of course, sir. Thank you very much. I'm so sorry about this. I must sound so ridiculous to you.”

  “Not at all, ma'am. Not at all. As I said before, just as it has happened to you, it has happened to me.”

  The Rookie reached the uniformed man to relieve him of the woman. He had no specific post at the time and was still floating in his responsibilities.

  “Yes, here he is. If you would, my fellow, please escort this kind woman to the hospital to see a nurse. Tell the nurse she needs something to calm the nerves.”

  Ever since he had collected the books, he was looking and hoping for his next big moment. He had grown tired of taking care of such trivial business.

  “Of course, but a calming of the nerves can be just as easily remedied with a strong drink and a change of scenery. However-”

  But before he finished the thought, the blank expression of the woman’s acceptance instantly turned into a vivid, animated expression and such was this expression that it caught the attention of the rookie and halted him in mid-sentence, bewildered by her seemingly bizarre excitement. Scenery. The woman heard the word, but at that moment it was more than just a word. At the very sound of scenery came glimpses of her beautiful home. Memories of the green, flat-topped foothills, of the numerous wheat fields lining cold, clean creeks, of towering cedars and poplars side by side, memories of the outdoors rushed through her mind.

  “Scenery,” she whispered and again, “scenery” with growing excitement, until she shouted “Scenery!” Then she dropped suddenly.

  With a quick grasp of the arm and a hard yank, the uniformed man took the rookie aside.

  “Rookie! Never, ever say anything of the like again! When I, or anyone else for that matter, tell you to do anything, you say 'Yes, sir' and keep your mouth shut from then on. We are on the winning verge here, but one slip up like that and they remember. If one person is able to remember then every person is able to remember. Never say anything about scenery again. Don’t even say anything about change again. 'Yes, sir' and 'no, sir' to us and just simple casual talk to the others, nothing more.”

  “Is she dead?”

  The uniformed man eased his release of the rookie's arm and turned to address the woman only to find the woman lying unconscious on the floor, her body contorted due to the unexpected collapse. It seems that her mind, in visualizing the vividness of her memories, which were only vaguely in mind beforehand, was so taken aback by the sudden flood of those vivid memories that it used all concentration to interpret the images, removing concentration from all other actions including bodily motions. Thus, the woman was lying on the floor, still unrecovered. After having been checked, she was still breathing.

  “You better thank your luck, rookie. I'm not sure what happened to her, but you take what you get. Now take care of her.”

  “What do you mean?” The uniformed man knew the process if such an occasion should arise. The Rookie, however, had either never been told or had missed it, and lacked the knowledge of the Captain’s controversial corrective actions.

  “Don't play dumb, rookie. Now do it.”

  “How? What am I supposed -”

  “Stop. Just shut up. Take her to the hospital, ask for a doctor, and tell the doctor that the Captain said that the woman needs four doses of the medication to ease her mind.”

  “But two is the maximum. Anything more than that might - “

  “Just do it, rookie.”

  “What if she starts to wake while I'm carrying her?”

  “Then you really need to get a move on.”

  The rookie obeyed with obligation as the uniformed man left him to his duty. The woman was still lying on the ground. With no one else in sight, he heaved the woman from the ground and onto his shoulder and made his way to the hospital. He had never done such a thing, and although he had to and did pass a physical conditioning for the IFA, he soon realized that he was not fit enough for this. The woman's limp body slowly slipped downward, and her feet dangled, nearly touching the floor. He soon had to pause in the hall to resituate. If any of the true militants in the colony had seen him then, they would have been ashamed and embarrassed. It was a sloppy sight. She was draped over his right shoulder, her long hair hanging away from her face, her clothes disheveled, and her face growing pink. She was still mindless to the world.

  He headed onward. He was strongly hoping that his way to the hospital would be void of any people, or at least of any crowds. He was wearing the colony uniform so the people would at least recognize him as someone with authority, but an unconscious woman hanging from his shoulder would be sure to inspire curiosity. He began to create excuses in his head. “She took a nasty slip farther down this hall which resulted in her head hitting the floor which in turn resulted in her unconsciousness. I happened to be near when it happened but was not close enough to prevent it. It's unfortunate, but accidents happen. Now I'm taking her to the hospital to get treated.” It was a believable story and simple enough. He kept on, still no one within sight, but the hospital was still far off.

  It didn’t take long until his feet were slowing and his head was aching. His frustration in the situation was growing all the while. The uniformed man's words ran through his head. What disrespect and arrogance! He had no right to act in such a way. Retracing the man's words he quickly became more irritated. It was a fluke. No one else would have had such a reaction as that woman. What kind of person collapses from thought anyway? The Rookie was intelligent, having gone through many years of graduate studies, earning his doctorate, and gaining solid standings in officer training, but he was not strong physically. Her weight was pressing down on his shoulders. He grew hot and started to sweat, but he walked on.

  Further down the long hall, a dim figure slowly approached. It looked to be only a single person who was strolling towards him at a slow but steady pace. The Rookie's pace quickened in return. He began to sweat even more due to the exercise and anxiety. The person drew nearer and was close enough to be identified as a male. The Rookie gave up his pace and stopped in his tracks. The simple story he had practiced slipped his mind. He drew closer and reached an audible distance. As he approached, the rookie exhaled and was immediately relieved. The man was in uniform and passed by without even a word or a glance.

  The rookie resumed his pace once again. However, he only continued his walk for another ten minutes until a crowd of men and women came his way, this time without any hope that they might be officers. He couldn't guess where they might be headed, but the civilians came closer. They seemed to be a group on the younger side of the colony average. They were loud with laughter and giddy talk as was the custom of young men and women who were involved in a circle of interests and relationships. He was quickly annoyed with their behavior, and they seemed ignorant of his presence. The Rookie puffed up his chest and straightened his posture as much as he could with the woman still heavy on his shoulder. As they were passing, they were instantly hushed at the sight of the military man carrying a limp, unconscious body. A small scream escaped one of the young women.

  “Oh my! Is she dead?”

  “No, she's not dead. She'll be fine and will fully recover once she's safely to the hospital.” He had said this with a sense of superiority and arrogance. He was above such nonsense as all this.

&
nbsp; “Well, what happened to her?”

  “She slipped and her head hit the floor.”

  It wasn't as eloquent as what he had practiced, but he didn't care to convince these people.

  As soon as he finished the statement, the woman on his shoulder let out a deep, soft moan. Although it was soft, it was loud in the ears of the Rookie, so much so that it frightened him, and his grip on the woman was lost. She dropped to the ground. As she was lying on the floor for the second time, she gave another moan, this one louder and filled with pain rather than awakening. She was still not fully conscious.

  “Get out of here!” The Rookie became enraged with embarrassment. They had seen his mistake, some with shock, some with awe, and some even dared to giggle. But his exclamation seemed to work, and they quickly skirted off down the hall and resumed their stroll. He figured that they would be filled with gossip and rumor-making because of the scene they had just witnessed. He was furious.

  He knelt down beside the woman's body, turned her over, and looked into her face. Nothing. He lightly slapped her face to test her consciousness. Nothing. After letting out a sigh of relief he hoisted the body on his shoulder and once again started towards the hospital. He soon reached a junction and turned the corner, nearing the hospital. As he straightened his path down the new hall, the woman's voice pierced his ear again.

  “Where am I?”

  Extremely taken aback, so frightened at the voice and what the voice meant for the situation, he reacted out of instinct and threw her body away from his, and as she fell his glance caught her suddenly wide eyes, and her soft, sad words seemed to echo in his head. Her body hit the wall and fell to the ground, a third time. She sat with her shoulders leaning against the wall. To his dismay, he saw a red streak on the wall where her head had slid. He checked her pulse and breathing. She was still alive. He didn't know what to do. As he stood there, a minute passed. His dismay slowly turned to relief because she then seemed to be fully unconscious, not from some strange phenomenon but from actual trauma. His practiced story then had some truth to it.

  He finally reached the hospital and spoke to the nurse at the desk, then to the doctor, and spoke as he was ordered. Four doses. The woman was released into their care and never seen again. It was later told to him that she finally was given what she originally desired.

  The rookie, nor any other officer, allowed such a remembrance to occur again. After over one hundred years, all that was wished by the General and all that was planned by the Captain, was reached and was successful beyond anyone’s imagination and recollection.