The Culling

by Charles Ray

  He’d been wanting for the longest time to share his secret with someone, with her especially. Now, with a sentence of death hanging over his head, it didn’t make sense not to.

  “Because, I’ve seen pictures of . . . the land . . . the world . . . on the other side of the fence. I’ve seen pictures of great cities where people lived in clean houses, and were able to choose their own work. I’ve seen maps of the land beyond the fence, and, Clementine, it’s a big land, much bigger than you can ever imagine. It’s a hell of a lot bigger than they tell us it is.”

  Her bright eyes were round as she gazed at him.

  “Where did you see pictures and maps, Hiroshi? There are no such things, except the forbidden books which were all burned long ago.”

  “No, Clementine,” he said. “They weren’t all burned. Some of them were saved and hidden away where the monitors couldn’t find them. I learned to read from some of them when I was just a kid.”

  “B-but, that can’t be. Anyone caught with a forbidden book is culled.”

  “They are hidden in a place where no one can find them, but they do exist.”

  “Oh, Hiroshi, if they ever find out that you’ve been exposed to the forbidden books, they might send you for culling. You must never tell anyone else this.”

  He laughed harshly. “It wouldn’t matter; doesn’t matter anymore. They’ve selected me for culling anyway.”

  She stepped back, her face going pale.

  “D-don’t joke about things like that, Hiroshi.” Then, her eyes went wide. “Y-you’re not joking?”

  “No; the headmaster showed me the list. That’s why she called me to her office.”

  Clementine darted forward, burying her face in his chest, her body shaking.

  “No, no, it can’t be,” she cried. “You’re one of the best in our crèche. You should be selected to be a technician. Only the mentally deficient and criminals are culled. There must be some mistake.”

  He hugged her tightly, stroking her back. He could feel the front of his clothing becoming damp from her tears.

  “But, they tell us that The Committee represents the will of the community, and the community is never wrong. If my being on the cull list is a mistake, then everything they’ve told us is a lie, right?”

  She pulled back and looked into his eyes.

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense. Oh, I’m so confused. What will we do?”

  He grasped her shoulders, and leaned in until their faces were almost touching.

  “Well, for one thing, I don’t plan to be here in the morning when they come for me,” he whispered. “Like I said, I’ve seen maps of the outside and wild animals or no, I think I’d rather take my chances with them than be turned into fertilizer for the potato fields.”

  “You’re going to run away?”

  “Yes, and, Clem, I’d like for you to come with me.”

  She pushed away from him. “Leave New Liberty? B-but, how would we live outside the community?”

  “It’s easier than you think. I’ve read books about living in the wild, and I remember most of what I’ve read. I know the plants and animals, and how to navigate.”

  Her oval face was streaked with tears. She again buried her face against his chest.

  “I d-don’t know, Hiroshi,” she murmured. “I love you, and I’d been hoping that when we left the crèche, we’d . . . you know . . . but, leaving the community. I just don’t know.”

  “I love you too, Clementine, and I can’t imagine living without you. But, I can’t stay here and die like an animal. I don’t want to leave you, but if I have to . . . I-”

  She put a hand to his lips, silencing him. Then, her lips replaced her hand. Hiroshi felt a sensation that started in his chest and spread down, engulfing his whole body. As her warm, moist tongue pressed between his lips, and he tasted the saltiness of her, his breath caught in his throat. He was uncomfortably aware of the warmth of her body pressed against his, and the involuntary reaction it was causing. His mind was a maelstrom of emotions. He loved her with every fiber of his being, and even though he’d had no experience with members of the opposite sex, unlike many of the others his age in the crèche who often experimented in the darkened corners when the attendants weren’t around, he’d read about, and remembered the physical and emotional processes involved. But, his feelings for Clementine went far beyond physical or even simple emotions. He loved her, and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. The problem was, the community, in the form of The Committee, had decided that his life was of no use to the community, so it would be ended.

  Had he not decided to run away, not wanting to die without ever having experienced physical love, he might have given in to his physical cravings, but he hadn’t given up on being able to convince her to run away with him. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her, leaving her looking confused. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps.

  “Hiroshi, what’s the matter?” she asked. “Don’t you want me?”

  When he’d gotten his breathing under control, making clear speech possible, he kissed her lightly on the forehead.

  “More than anything in the world,” he said. “But, I don’t want it to be like this. I want it to be . . . oh, I don’t know . . . just not like this. Clementine, I love you, and I’d like to spend the rest of my life with you. But, in order to do that, we have to leave New Liberty.”

  Her lips quivered. Her body quivered. He felt the vibrations of her body through his clothing, and felt as if he would die. She looked up at him, her eyes wide.

  “I-”

  Her words were cut off by the sound of the door to the roof slamming against the wall as it was flung open. Hiroshi and Clementine started, and as they looked toward the door, stepped away from each other, their eyes wide in shock.

  Two black-clad monitors stepped through the doorway and began walking toward them. With their visors down, in the reddish light cast from the glow of the factory furnaces glinting off the reflective surfaces, they looked like alien insects.

  “Hiroshi Jackson,” one of the insectoid forms said in a voice muffled somewhat by the visor. “You are to come with us.”

  9.

  “No,” Clementine cried, as she pushed herself between Hiroshi and the approaching monitors. “He’s not supposed to go until tomorrow.”

  The two monitors, apparently expecting to find Hiroshi alone on the roof, stopped their advance. They looked carefully at the diminutive figure standing defiantly facing them.

  “You are Clementine Adams,” one said. “You are to step aside and return to your sleeping quarters. Hiroshi Jackson, you are to come with us.”

  The tone was mechanical, as if the man behind the mask was reciting something he’d memorized. It was also unwavering – there was no doubt he expected to be obeyed.

  Hiroshi didn’t want to go with the monitors, but he also didn’t want Clementine harmed. He took her gently by the shoulders and pushed her aside, moving forward.

  “Okay, I’ll go with you,” he said.

  “Always remember.” His father’s final words sounded clearly in his mind. Suddenly, he had an image of a book he’d enjoyed reading once he could make his way through the pages on his own. It was an English translation of Sun Tzu’s Art of War. The passage that jumped out at him said roughly, Use your enemy’s strength to your advantage.

  He tried to look as non-threatening as possible as the monitor neared him. The second monitor lagged behind - which he was depending on. They had come expecting to face an unarmed prole teenager who would be intimidated by their uniforms and authority, thus they hadn’t drawn their weapons. As the monitor withdrew a pair of plasticuffs from his belt, and reached for him, Hiroshi held out his hands.

  Just as the monitor opened the cuffs to slip them around his wrist, Hiroshi grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. He’d already been moving forward, so the extra pull only caused him to speed up as he lost his balance. Hiroshi put all his strength into it and, turning to the si
de, flung the monitor at the brick wall that formed the ledge around the roof, causing him to crash face first into it. There was a crashing, tinkling sound as the visor cracked upon impact, followed by the crunch of the monitor’s nose against the bricks.

  Hiroshi immediately turned to face the remaining monitor, who was shocked into momentary immobility by what he’d seen. Hiroshi rushed toward him, and just before he reached him, leapt into the air, kicking his right leg out. He made contact with the man’s breastbone, sending him staggering backwards.

  The monitor back pedaled until he came into contact with the half-open door, and slid down to the floor. At this point, he began reaching for his flechette gun. Before Hiroshi could get to him, he had the weapon out and was pointing it at Hiroshi’s chest.

  Hiroshi halted, his breath caught in his throat as the monitor’s arm stiffened. In the melee, he’d forgotten about Clementine. The br-r-r-rp! of a flechette gun from behind him caused him to jump. It also caused the monitor to jump as dozens of flechettes slammed into his body, causing it twitch like a marionette. Blood poured from the tears in his uniform, the dark fluid blending with the cloth. The monitor fell back, opening the door the rest of the way, as he slid down, he left a dark smear on the wood. His legs twitched and then he was still.

  “Oh, shit,” Hiroshi said as he turned.

  Clementine was holding the flechette gun in two hands, her eyes wide as she saw what it was capable of doing. Her body was shaking and her face was pale.

  Just beyond her, Hiroshi saw the monitor he’d flung against the ledge, lying still in a bundle at the base of the brick hip wall, his head at an unnatural angle.

  “Oh, shit,” he said again.

  He gently removed the weapon from Clementine’s trembling hands.

  “Is . . . he . . . dead?” she asked.

  Hiroshi looked at the monitor by the door. His lifeless body was sitting in a widening pool of dark blood.

  “Afraid so,” he said. “You got him good. Looks like the other one is dead as well. Where did you learn to shoot one of these things?”

  “I saw one of the monitors do it once. He just pointed it and pressed that little thing hanging down. I couldn’t let him shoot you.”

  “I owe you my life, Clem.”

  He walked over and took the weapon from her shaking hands, and kissed her on the forehead.

  “W-what we do now, Hiroshi?” Her whole body had begun to shake.

  “We have no choice, Clementine,” he said. “Just hitting a monitor is a capital crime. We’ve killed two. They’ll have no mercy. We have to leave.”

  She looked into his eyes. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

  “Then, we shall leave, my love,” she said simply. “We’ll be together forever, right?”

  “Forever,” he said.

  10.

  Hector Cruz sat behind the large wooden desk that dominated his office. His expression was icy as he looked up at Gravius-One who was standing in front of the desk, his dark face impassive.

  “You’re sure my orders will be carried out?” Cruz asked.

  “Yes, citizen. I sent two men to the crèche. The prole boy will be brought to you tonight.”

  “Very good.” Cruz nodded. “Make sure he’s not harmed . . . too much.”

  Gravius nodded, turned on his heels and left.

  Cruz pushed a call button on his desk communicator.

  “Yes, citizen.”

  “Citizen Halifax,” Cruz said. “Good news; we’ll know the location of the forbidden texts before this night is out.”

  “Are you sure?” Nigel Halifax asked. There was excitement in his voice. “This would give a great boost to our research.”

  “Oh, I’m sure. Ulysses Jackson knew where his father hid the texts that weren’t burned. Unfortunately, an overzealous monitor killed him before I could interrogate him. I’m convinced, though, that he told his son the location, and now he will tell me.”

  And, once the brat had given him the information, he would join his father and mother – as fertilizer for one of the produce fields. Then he, Hector Cruz, would be the sole possessor of most of the world’s knowledge. That, along with the life extending treatment Halifax was working on, would make him the most powerful person on earth. With the assistance of the militia when they returned to New Liberty he would begin to extend his rule until he controlled the world.

  11.

  At monitor headquarters, the duty officer was sitting at the front desk when Gravius walked in. The sergeant jumped to his feet.

  “Commander, what are you doing here at this time of night?”

  Gravius planted himself in front of the desk, glaring down at the hapless sergeant.

  “Have your men acquired the prole Hiroshi Jackson as I ordered?” His voice boomed.

  “I sent two men to get him as you ordered, citizen.”

  “Should they not be back by now?”

  Confusion distorted the officer’s face.

  “Uh, yes, I suppose they should.” He thumbed the communicator panel on his desk, frowning. “They’re not answering. Should I send another unit to check on them?”

  Gravius-One looked down at his subordinate. He took a deep breath.

  “Do you think maybe you should?” His face contorted in an angry look. “Yes, you fool, you should check on them.”

  The man scrambled from behind the desk and ran to a door in the back of the room.

  “You two,” he yelled, pointing at two monitors who had been lounging on a bench. “Get over to the prole community, Columbus Heights Crèche, and see what’s keeping the two idiots I sent over there to pick up that prole kid. Don’t just sit there, move your asses!”

  The two monitors jumped up and almost fell over each other getting out the door. The officer returned to the front office.

  “I have two men on the way, citizen,” he said. “They should be reporting back within ten minutes.”

  Gravius made a grunting noise and walked to the window. He stood there as immobile as a statue, looking out at the lights that illuminated the citizens’ sector of New Liberty. Taking a deep breath, he picked up a trace scent of the methane used in the factories and the power plant on the other side of the river, and immediately regretted it.

  “Being a citizen doesn’t protect your sense of smell,” he thought wryly. “Burning shit stinks for citizen and prole alike.”

  The duty officer, unaccustomed to the commander of the entire monitor force being in his office at night, and unnerved by the man’s icy demeanor and the fact that he stood without seeming to even breathe, stood nervously in front of his desk. He’d wondered at the order to go into the prole community at night to arrest one young prole and bring him to The Committee headquarters; to the Chairman himself. It wasn’t a tough assignment, taking an unarmed prole teenager into custody, so he’d sent two recently assigned rookies. Thinking about it now, though, standing there looking at his commander’s unmoving form, they should have been back an hour ago. Columbus Heights was one of the near districts, and there wasn’t any movement to delay them at this time of night. “Shit, I should have checked on it before he arrived,” he thought. “If they’ve fucked this job up, I’ll be lucky I don’t get assigned to factory security in the northern part of New Liberty.”

  While the officer was musing fretfully, Gravius-One was wondering why Cruz wanted this particular young prole. He clearly had something up his sleeve, and Gravius wanted to know what it was. The Chairman, never the most balanced personality, had been showing increasing signs of instability lately, he thought. That incident at the meeting when he’d insisted the monitor be executed, for instance. Punishment, yes; that was needed to maintain discipline and control; but, excessive and arbitrary punishment of another citizen, even a lowly monitor, was uncalled for. Now this. It was strange, and Gravius-One didn’t like strange.

  He decided that he would have the monitors bring the boy to him first. Maybe then he’d be able to determine why Cruz wanted him. Knowle
dge was power; in this case, the power to protect himself from whatever Cruz was planning, and his gut told him the Chairman was up to something that spelled no good for him or for others on The Committee – or for New Liberty for that matter.

  His musings were interrupted by the beeping of the communicator on the duty officer’s desk. The man bent over and muttered something into the mike. There was a response, but from across the room Gravius couldn’t make it out. The officer, his face pale, stood and turned.

  “What is the problem?” Gravius asked.

  “The two monitors I sent to Columbus Heights are dead,” the ashen-faced officer said. “And, the prole, Hiroshi Jackson, is missing.”

  “The shit will hit the fan now,” Gravius thought. “Find him,” he ordered. “Find him, and bring him to me alive.”

  12.

  On New Liberty’s western border and the Wilderness

  Hiroshi knew that it was only a matter of time before the two dead monitors on the roof would be discovered. When that happened, the monitors would raid every dwelling within a several mile radius of the crèche looking for him – and now, Clementine as well. His only advantage was that the two hadn’t had a chance to use their communicators.

  Taking the two flechette pistols and the spare clips from both, Hiroshi grabbed Clementine’s hand and led her off the roof. Using a back hallway, he made his way out of the back of the building and across an adjacent vacant, weed-choked lot toward the west.

  The lack of electric power in the prole community worked to their advantage. Most of the streets were in dark shadow. Using his memories of the city layout from the time before, and keeping to the shadows, they made it to within sight of the western fence before midnight. From a copse of trees on a low hill just east of the fence, Hiroshi lay, with Clementine at his side, for an hour, watching the monitors who guarded the interior, memorizing their patrol schedule and making note of their alertness; or lack thereof. He knew that the river was to their left, and that the fence crossed it at a point where it wasn’t deep, but where the current was rapid. He noted that the patrols didn’t go frequently to the river, spending most of their time checking the hills and forests to the area north of the river.