I sat down on the rollaway I’d been given and pulled out my cell phone. “You better choose who you send your message to wisely,” Wirth said from behind the door of his wall locker.
“Huh?”
“They’ve got some sort of blocking signal or something inside the building. It limits you to sending one text message a day, maximum of 500 characters, and only receiving one a day too. There’s a sign over on the desk that says that. I didn’t see the sign before I sent my side piece a message that I’d arrived. Now my girlfriend doesn’t even know if I made it.”
I chuckled at what I hoped was a joke. “Thanks,” I replied, pushing up from the bed to go check out the sign before I sent my message to Cassandra.
Sure enough, the sign stated what Wirth said it did. I had to be smart with my messages and would have to explain the rules to her in my first message, taking up a lot of the characters. I took a few minutes playing around with the message to ensure all the pertinent information was there, and then sent it to her.
Within seconds, I received a reply of, “Oh thank goodness! Was worried. How is it?”
I couldn’t respond and she couldn’t send another message. Apparently she hadn’t read the rules in my text message closely enough and it looked like she had twenty-four hours to reread the message before I could send another one.
THIRTEEN
The Civic Enforcement Agency Assessment and Training Course took twelve weeks, not the ten that they’d told us. Senior Instructor Collins said it was because they were still developing the program of instruction, so some of the classes were being tried out on us for the first time, while others would probably be removed for follow-on groups. Lucky us.
The course had three main focus areas. The first was a daily regimen of physical activity from 5 a.m. to 7 a.m. involving running in the Ozark Mountains, calisthenics, and weight lifting at the indoor gym the government had commandeered next door. I was okay with most of it, but hadn’t been prepared for running five-plus miles. By the end of training, that had changed and I could do the five mile course with ease.
The next focus area was weapons training. We spent an inordinate amount of time at the range, primarily with the Barretta M9 pistol—which were old Army surplus after they’d switched to the newer Sig Sauer M17. I went through two of the damn pieces of junk until I got one that fired consistently without getting jammed. We also trained with other types of pistols, but those were mainly a novelty item since the M9 was expected to be our daily carry because the government had literally hundreds of thousands of them just sitting in warehouses. In addition to pistols, we trained with M4 rifles and shotguns. The M4 is the workhorse rifle of the US military and it’s a good weapon. I never had any issues with one of them on the range as long as it was clean before I started shooting. We were told that we’d likely have a secondary weapon, like the M4 or an older M16, since, again, there were a lot of them lying around for the CEA to get its hands on.
Finally, the main focus of the course was teaching us the nuances of the New Constitution, a revised, living document that was written to reflect modern times by the government of the New American Republic. Over two hundred members from both houses of Congress had rewritten the Original US Constitution during the quarantine, working on it in private until it was time for Senator Bradley, from my state of Texas, to sponsor the bipartisan bill for a vote. It wasn’t some 5,000-page monstrosity that most of the bills going to the floor usually were. The New Constitution was a simple twenty-four page document that outlined where the country was and what our way ahead should be for the future. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the revisions, even though I was going to be enforcing their compliance soon.
Changes to the original Bill of Rights—the first ten amendments—were the immediate spark that ignited the flame of debate during the bill’s time on the floor. Only the First, Second, Fifth, and Sixth Amendments remained, with updated verbiage for the 21st century. If your memory of the Original US Constitution is as fuzzy as mine was before the CEA-ATC forced us to go through it every day, the First Amendment is freedom of religion, speech, and the press. It was updated to state that hate speech of any kind against an individual or group based on ethnicity, religion, sex, gender, age, or sexual preference is not protected and that speaking out against the government is prohibited. The Second Amendment is the right to bear arms, updated to ban so-called “assault rifles” or any other semi-automatic rifle that has a removable magazine capable of holding more than fifteen rounds. Local laws could further define what was acceptable, but Americans had to be told they were still allowed to have their guns, otherwise we would have a full-on insurgency on our hands. The Fifth Amendment is the protection of rights to life, liberty, and property, including the right to choose to not incriminate yourself by answering a question. That one was updated to remove the double jeopardy clause and to bring it more in line with the military’s justice system, which does not recognize the right against self-incrimination. Finally, they kept the Sixth Amendment, the rights of accused persons in criminal cases fairly intact, but they did roll in the rights in civil cases, the Seventh Amendment, into this one.
Gone were the amendments forbidding the housing of soldiers in peacetime, the protection against unreasonable searches, protection against excessive fines, and the rights of states and the people to preserve power in lieu of the federal government. In private, my roommates and I spent a lot of time discussing why we thought those specific amendments were removed.
The New American Republic Constitution for the 21st Century Bill flew through the Senate, garnering ninety-nine affirmative votes and only one dissenter from Vermont. It stalled slightly in the House where it didn’t have quite as much support due to the incredibly wide variety of people in those positions from across the nation. In the end, it passed the House and was signed into law by the president. The entire thing took less than a week, all of it accomplished while the average American was hunkered down in fear of the Crud with their heads in the sand, streaming television shows instead of paying attention to what DC was doing. Well, that was about to bite all of us in the ass.
Toward the end of the course, possibly week ten or eleven, one of the students asked a question that had been on everyone’s minds during a presentation of crowd control techniques. The prospective agent asked why we weren’t concerned with the Crud while everywhere else in America was still under a quarantine. The guest lecturer smiled knowingly and told us that H5N8 wasn’t a public health concern for 90% of the population without preexisting medical conditions such as a weakened immune system or cardiovascular disease. It was a convenient excuse for the federal government to seize power and expand their influence in everyone’s lives by making the individual fearful of their neighbors. The speaker was still shouting about the State’s abuse of power as the CEA-ATC staff dragged him from the lecture hall.
We never learned what happened to him, but I was positive that he ended up in a jail cell for political dissidents or something. I was reminded, once again, of the book 1984, and the reeducation cell that the main character, Winston, found himself locked away in for the second half of the book. The speaker’s predicament was an important real-life lesson on the nuances of the New Constitution’s First Amendment. Speaking out against the government was prohibited. The speaker’s candor gave me a lot to think about privately and where I would fit in to this new society that I was supposed to help form.
During my time at the Assessment and Training Course, I learned that our primary role would be to educate the population on the New Constitution and to assist the FBI with nonconformists. The official reasoning behind the organization was fuzzy, especially considering how much time we spent on weapons training. We were made to memorize the new document and to interpret its meanings in a way that we could deliver to others. The most important thing about laws was ensuring that everyone knew about them, so we spent countless hours learning to give presentations and impromptu constitutional lessons reinforced b
y strict remedial discipline sessions from the drill instructors if we failed to perform properly.
The biggest threat to CEA agents, we were told, wouldn’t be the common criminal or the wild youth out seeking a thrill. Those types of people would be dealt with by the local law enforcement offices when we returned for our assignment. Our main problems would likely be the older population, especially those in the thirty-five-to-sixty age range. They’d grown up and lived most of their lives under the Original Constitution and valued freedom over safety. Those were likely to be the dangerous ones who would resist change and be unwilling to conform to the NAR’s new laws. Statistically, they were also the most likely to own weapons and know how to use them.
Finally, after twelve weeks of what I privately termed “indoctrination” I was awarded the title of CEA agent and given my own shiny badge. It was ridiculous to think that I had a full-time career and hadn’t even finished my second year of college yet—and likely never would now that I had a high-paying job that I wasn’t allowed to quit. Yay for totalitarianism, which is what I believed the US was slipping into. And the citizens were lining up, embracing the changes, anything to be allowed out of quarantine.
Upon graduation, I was stationed in Austin. I’d given serious consideration about returning to Alabama, but the 500-character text message limit didn’t allow me to have a proper conversation with Cassandra about it. Her family was just a couple of hours away down in Bryan—who, by the way, had also been extremely pissed about her college choice when she chose UT over Texas A&M. But she hadn’t been able to see them in almost six months, so what was the difference between Austin and say, Birmingham?
Cassandra met me at the bus station and we shared a quick kiss, mindful of the rules against displays of public affection. It wasn’t an enforceable law, but the governor had declared that the sight of people making out in public was an affront to his moral dignity and recommended against doing so. We’d show our true feelings for one another once we got home.
“Oh my gosh,” Cassandra said as she hugged me again. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I missed you too,” I said. “That text message ban was bullshit.”
“Oooh. Um…” She put her finger to her lips. “Cursing is prohibited in public now.”
“What?” I asked in disbelief. She pointed at a sign on the wall declaring it to be true. It was punishable by up to ten days in jail, enforceable, of all things, by the CEA. “Huh. We didn’t learn that in the course.”
“It’s new,” she said glumly. “There are a lot of new rules. They come out by text message and email. You’ve probably not been able to get them because of the whole ban thing.”
I looked around at the bus station and something seemed different. Then it hit me. “Where’d all the homeless people go?” The Austin Greyhound bus station was usually crowded with homeless people who congregated there for some reason. It was a wonderful first site for many arriving to the city by bus.
“Homelessness is illegal in Austin,” Cassandra replied, staring off at the high rises to the west. “The mayor did a major sweep to relocate the homeless population a couple of months ago. They were all rounded up and sent… Hmpf. Okay, to be honest, I don’t know where they were sent.” She pointed at a bright yellow sign that said vagrants would be arrested if they couldn’t provide proof of residency.
“Uh… I want to go home,” I said. “I’ve got a four-day pass and then I have to report to work. It sounds like there’s still a lot that I need to learn.”
I walked over to where the bus driver had unloaded the Austin bags and found the big green duffle bag that CEA had issued me with uniforms and some equipment, most of it was Army surplus, like the duffle bag itself. The bag held about forty-five pounds of shit that I had no idea where it would go once I got home. I also grabbed the burnt orange Nike gym bag that I’d taken with me to Arkansas.
“There’s one more thing… A couple things actually.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” I stated.
“It’s not bad. Um, I got the notification that you were going to graduate two weeks ago. Then I got a phone call to expect movers to be at our apartment within an hour. The agency relocated us to a nicer part of town.”
“Really?” I asked incredulously. “They moved us?”
She nodded. “We live in a three bedroom house in a gated community now. There’s a nice community pool and the neighbors all work within the System.”
I threw the big duffle bag onto my shoulders and we began walking south along Comal Street toward where a few parking lots were. “The system?” I asked, adjusting the straps on the heavy bag.
“Yeah, you know. Like the CEA, the FBI, the Bureau of Citizenship Registration, the Rationing Board, the Citizens’ Social Committee… There are a few more of the NAR agencies in there, but that’s all I remember off the top of my head right now. Oh, duh. Right next to us is a US Marshall. She’s okay, but her wife is a stay-at-home mom and she’s a major b-i-t-c-h,” she said, spelling out the word.
“It’s okay,” I chuckled. “You don’t have to spell out curse words around me just because I’m a CEA agent now.”
“Yeah, how is that?” she asked, tucking a strand of long dark hair behind her ear. She chewed on her lower lip, which was one of her endearing nervous habits. She was wondering if I was changed because of the course I’d just gone through.
“I don’t know, Cass. I’m not a hundred percent on board with all the New Constitution stuff, but overall, I think it’s just codifying state laws and local ordinances at the federal level. I mean—”
She placed a hand on my forearm. “You shouldn’t talk badly about the System. Everything they’re doing is to help see us through these trying times.”
“Trying times?” I stopped. “Cassandra, what have you been doing for the past twelve weeks?”
She glanced at the store fronts nervously. “As the wife of a prospective CEA agent, I had to go through a lot of online learning, like two hours a day. Then—”
It was my turn to stop her. “Online learning? Like indoctrination or something?”
“I don’t know. Just information about how things would be in the future here in the New American Republic. After they moved us to Patriot Estates, I had to go to two full-day sessions at the clubhouse. We learned a lot about the expectations of NAR Citizens and how living in the neighborhood will benefit us. They stressed the importance of the System over the individual and gave us phone numbers and websites where we could report anyone violating the law, or even speaking out against the System.”
“I’m sorry, babe.” I wrapped her in a hug and she stiffened momentarily before leaning into me. I felt her shudder.
“It’s all so terrible,” she said, her voice hoarse. “And I’m worried that now that you’re a part of it, you’ll be—”
“I’m not a part of it,” I asserted. “I was forced to go to their training, but that doesn’t change who I am. I’m still me. We’re still us, okay?”
“I’m pretty sure our house is bugged!” she blurted out suddenly, then threw a hand over her mouth.
“What?”
She pushed her face into my chest. “The house. I don’t know. I always get this feeling like somebody is there, watching or listening, but nobody is.”
“That’s… That’s a little crazy,” I finally managed to say.
“Why else would they move us all into a neighborhood together?” she asked. “That’s an easy way to keep track of their own agents who are then expected to go out and enforce the laws. People say things in the privacy of their home that they’d never say in public. By moving their people into houses that are bugged, they can keep track of every aspect of their lives.”
I nodded. It made sense, in a fucked up, 1984 sort of way. I really wished that I’d been able to get a print copy of the book before everything went to shit and it was deleted from my phone.
“I’m so sorry, babe,” I repeated. “This hasn’t changed me. I’m st
ill the same guy.”
She looked up at me. “You promise?”
“I promise,” I said. “There is no way that my job is going to define who I am as a person.”
Apparently, that was what she needed to hear because she pulled away and smiled. Her face was red and splotchy from the tears that streaked her cheeks and the rough fabric of my jacket where she’d pressed her face into my chest. “They gave us a car, too,” she said, frowning, then smiling. Her emotions were all over the place.
“What?” I asked, truly shocked once more. First a house, now a car?
“Yeah, they gave us this giant Tahoe. It’s black with dark black window tint. I think it’s supposed to be for you to drive back and forth to work. You know, the big, bad, intimidating CEA agent.”
“What if I want to keep driving my truck?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Most everyone is in the same boat. They all have three cars now and are selling one. It’s pretty funny to see how many cars are for sale in the neighborhood.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, rubbing her shoulder.
“Yeah. I really just need to get back home. That hug probably has the store owners on edge, deciding whether to call the cops or not. They get rewards for reporting violations of the law.”
That was bullshit, I decided. “Oh yeah? Then what does this get us?” I leaned down and kissed her passionately on the lips. It lasted for several seconds and Cassandra allowed herself to melt into it, her body pressing close against me.
Finally, she pulled away and glanced at the stores. “It gets you a piece of ass as soon as we get to the car.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me along Comal Street toward a parking garage. “Come on. Let’s go.”
FOURTEEN
The four days at home went quickly as Cassandra and I reconnected on an emotional and physical level. It had been very hard for both of us to go from spending twenty-four hours a day with each other for several months to only a quick text blurb once a day. We needed the time to figure things out. I’d changed over my time at the Assessment and Training Course, and so had she.
American Dreams | Book 1 | The Decline Page 11
