End of The World: The Beginning

by Nesly Clerge

  Once the girls were tucked in that night, I watched the news. More protests in various provinces about everything from A to Z. More round-ups leading to even more riots. More lands being preserved, more distressed citizens. I instructed KATE to shut it off.

  Neither Karl nor the Order had given me a choice about where I was to work, only the initial pretense of one. Such assignments, without agreement of the workers, were supposed to effect Levels One through Three only.

  In the short span of a week, I’d learned that others could manipulate where I worked; that many conveniences were actually controls; that nearly every breath and action I or anyone with a chip took was monitored, recorded, and saved for unknown purposes. Unknown to us, that is. And that the Order continued to create ways to spy on citizens.

  I’d learned equipment that could save lives was being withheld from those of us who could make a difference. Karl had said the Order had objectives, but gave me no further information. What was their agenda?

  That day on the park bench, he’d mentioned the Order’s plans were advancing, and that fewer lower-level workers would be needed. I thought about his exact words. Surely he meant technological advancements would free more and more workers from menial tasks, not the elimination of the people themselves. It’s what I wanted to believe, but the truth was that I was no longer as certain as I might have once been.

  According to the myths, a number of jealous, power-hungry Greek gods devoured their offspring. It was always about power, one way or another.

  I shivered.

  ENTRY 18

  I repeatedly told myself circumstances looked one way but surely were another. Karl had to be setting me up, making me suspicious for his own selfish purposes. He was manipulating me, and that’s all what was happening was about. Nothing else. No nefarious acts by the Order. Why would he tell such lies? How could I get out of working for him? I’d find out who to speak with first thing Monday morning. Then I remembered the Genesis Genome Activator. What if it truly did what he said it could? I’d be a fool not to find out. I felt my brain would soon sizzle if I didn’t step away from my discordant thoughts.

  Comfort was required for my body and mind. I perused my mother’s books, wanting to hold something tangible of hers. I wanted to turn pages, as I did all those years ago as she read to me in bed. I wanted the scent of old paper to carry me back to simpler days. KATE would know what I was reading. I felt the intrusion like a hard slap.

  I trailed my fingers across the spines of the small collection of books, lingering on the tattered, yellowed paper cover of All Things Bright and Beautiful, James Herriot’s memoir sequel to All Creatures Great and Small. I decided to read the books in order. Propped against my bed pillows, I revisited the rustic world of the Yorkshire, England veterinarian during a time in history that seemed so far removed. As I read, I heard my mother’s soft voice singing the song the titles came from:

  All things bright and beautiful,

  All creatures great and small,

  All things wise and wonderful:

  The Lord God made them all.

  When had the last time been that I’d looked around and perceived what I saw as bright and beautiful, other than Nellie and Kellie, of course. Unlike the spacious house and yard where I grew up, my own small home had a mere two feet between the houses on either side and in back. It was the same in front, with the street at the edge of what was considered a public sidewalk that abutted my house. Those areas were covered with concrete. The Order said it was the best use of space for those of us allowed to have separate residences in the urban center; that grass required mowing, which polluted the air with fumes and noise, both prohibited.

  We were allowed potted plants, but were not allowed to use utility water for them. Collection of rainwater was also prohibited. So what was the point? The Order said this made sense. To whom? Some people chose to use plastic plants. I didn’t want to, but my girls wanted something colorful outside. I made it a point to bring Nellie and Kellie to the glass-covered gardens once a month so they could know what real flowers, plants, and trees looked like, so they could feel the texture of them and inhale their fragrances. I always set up my appointment times a year in advance, times that were sacrosanct, as far as I was concerned.

  You might ask why I didn’t bring my girls for a ride into rural areas. First, there was no place to visit—nearly every bit of property outside the urban center was fenced off as preserved lands. No amusement parks like when I was a child, no parks except small ones in the urban centers, covered with concrete and artificial turf. Second, the Order considered a drive outside urban centers a waste of electricity. Taxis were to be conserved for legitimate purposes, more often than not, work-related. Distance travel had to be approved, and usually wasn’t, except at major holiday times. Most people stopped asking. Everything, as far as the Order was concerned, had to have a legitimate purpose, as designated by them. I wondered what they did for fun then decided maybe I didn’t want to know. Those in the Order seemed a humorless, joyless bunch. I’d never considered that before.

  I shook my head and admonished myself for going down that thought path. I was supposed to be taking a rest from these and similar thoughts. I found my place on the page and continued to read, until I shut off my light at eleven. The rain stopped soon after. I could have used the sound because sleep eluded me.

  At midnight, I heard my back door open then click closed.

  ENTRY 19

  I knew it wasn’t Sara or my girls opening the back door at this time of night. I whispered for KATE to notify authorities. No response. I slid out of bed on rubbery legs and crept cat-like to the wall by the door and listened. The intruder was moving around. I heard whoever it was trip on something, and realized he or she wasn’t using a light.

  Thought of my girls being in danger snapped me out of the fear-induced paralysis threatening to take over. I glanced around my room for a potential weapon. The only thing close enough to serving that function was a glass vase with silk flowers in it—on the nightstand next to my bed. I chastised myself for not thinking about the vase sooner and crossed the room as quickly and quietly as I could, removed the flowers and got a firm grip with both hands on the vase neck. I edged to the door, took in a deep breath, released it slowly and peaked out.

  Ambient light meant the intruder would see me, but it also meant I’d see him or her. I stepped out—eyes straining as I scanned the darkened room. It was empty. I listened and heard the suction sound of the refrigerator door being opened: The intruder was going to use that for lighting. I crept forward in my bare feet, taking my time, since whoever it was, was still in the kitchen.

  I positioned myself flat against the wall just outside the kitchen entrance and struggled to breathe without making a sound. I thought of my girls, raised the vase over my head, and stepped into the doorway. I opened my mouth to speak and fell silent.

  ENTRY 20

  A man about my age, extremely thin yet muscular, was bent at the waist in front of my refrigerator. He was in need of a shave and haircut; although, his dark, wavy shoulder-length hair seemed to balance his sharp features. He turned from scoping the contents of the refrigerator to look at me, the apple in his hand suspended an inch from his open mouth. He smiled, straightened up to what I took to be eight inches taller than my five foot four, took a bite of the apple, chewed twice and swallowed. His expression was serene; though, he studied me with piercing gold eyes.

  He took another bite and said, “Sorry to talk with my mouth full. I’m starving.”

  I kept the vase raised over my head.

  He took another bite and pointed with the apple. “Your arms will get tired fast if you keep them like that.”

  I lowered my arms but held onto the vase. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  “Name’s Michael. Means gift from God. You familiar with who Michael is?”

  “An angel, as I recall.”

  “Archangel. The angel who fights against the forces o
f evil. Leads God’s armies against Satan’s in the book of Revelation. And defeats them.” He grinned.

  “Please don’t try to convince me you’re an angel eating an apple in my kitchen. I’m not that gullible.”

  Michael laughed. “I told you: I’m starving.” He tapped his head. “No chip. No chip, no food credits. But I do have a message for you, Gayle. Just couldn’t resist the temptation to eat first. Hope you don’t mind.”

  This was too surreal for me. I shrugged and said, “Help yourself. And while you’re at it, tell me how you know my name, et cetera.”

  “Have any bread?”

  “Overhead cabinet behind you.”

  Michael opened the small door. “Peanut butter! Haven’t had that since I was a kid.” He found the four jars of different jellies in the refrigerator and placed them on the cabinet. The result was a quadruple-decker sandwich. He bit into it, closed his eyes and moaned then leaned against the counter. “Hope KATE doesn’t question you about the need for bread sooner than usual.”

  “For some reason KATE’s unresponsive.” I regretted saying that as soon as the words left my mouth. I lifted the vase. “My housekeeper has probably heard you and has contacted KATE. You should leave while you can. If she comes in here, she’ll do more than hit you with a vase. She’s extremely protective of us.”

  “Relax, Gayle. If I meant to harm any of you, I would’ve already done it. KATE didn’t respond to you because I hacked the system. KATE’s keepers see you sleeping in bed. I waited until you got still—finally, I might add—and made a loop of it. The watchers have no idea you’re not snoozing. As for Sara—yes, I did my intel before coming here, I programmed a temporary sedative-like stimulus through her chip—that’s something I’d only do in an emergency or urgent situation. Contacting you was urgent.. And before you get worried, I know your daughters are naturally heavy sleepers. Nothing was done to them. I would never harm the innocent.”

  I lowered my arms. “I imagine that’s supposed to reassure me.”

  He popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth, chewed and swallowed, and then held his mouth under the tap, drinking water for what seemed a full two minutes. He straightened and stretched his arms over his head, causing the top part of his shirt to shift left.

  “What’s that?” I pointed at his chest.

  “What?”

  “You have a tattoo, but I only saw part of it.”

  Michael moved his tattered shirt to the left. “It’s a cross. Everyone in my group has one. Everyone in associate groups has one. We’re God’s Righteous Army. Protesters. But not run-of-the-mill ones. We rebel against the Order and how they’re destroying God’s creations and perverting souls.” He patted his left front jeans pocket. “I’ve got something for you.”

  He handed me a flat round metallic object, about an inch in diameter. It had a tiny raised knob at its center. “What is it?”

  “It allows you to bypass KATE’s ability to listen to you or even track you. It lets you do what I did tonight. If you find you need to be under the radar for a period of time, set up what you want KATE to see then—without KATE seeing you do it, of course—push the button. That starts a loop like what’s running now. When you’re ready to re-enter the system, push the button twice.”

  “What’s this about?”

  ENTRY 21

  “It’s about protecting you,” Michael replied.

  “From what?”

  “What and whom.”

  “I need more than that. And, why me?”

  “Far as we can tell, you’re one of the good guys.”

  “That’s a relief. I suppose. But why—”

  “The Order has a particular interest in you, Gayle. An unhealthy one. Actually, that’s the only kind of interest they take in individuals.” Michael held up a hand to stop me from interrupting. “Let me explain. We track people through KATE, and do it undetected, I’m pleased to say. The Order believes they’re invincible. They’re not. They’re good, but so are we. We’re not always able to access some of their discussions, especially the higher up in the hierarchy the operations go. But we can usually access the lower level ones. Why you? They’re trying to lure you into their web for some reason we can’t get information about. Not yet. That’s not an entrapment you want, believe me. Not for you. Not for your daughters.”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s necessary. You, like others, see the signs of where they’re taking humanity. The signs are everywhere and have been for a long time, but you all ignore them. You can’t imagine that what you see is even believable, so you choose not to believe what you see. Worse, you accept the Order’s explanations or justifications for what they do without question. If you can’t or refuse to imagine something, you can’t prepare for it. You won’t resist it. Everyone’s all but invited the Order’s control and planned outcome.”

  “What signs? What outcome? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You do, if you think about it. You’re a researcher, an observer. Lift your eyes from your microscopic mono-vision and look around. Put two and two together.”

  “You said ‘planned outcome’. I’ve recently heard someone mention the Order’s plans and objectives, but no one’s giving me specifics about what this means.”

  Michael nodded. “Karl. A tiny spider who believes he’s a big spider on that tremulous web. When they’re done with him, they’ll devour him too.”

  I threw my arms up. “Spiders. Webs. Can’t any of you just speak plainly?”

  “Check the start of the book of Revelation in the Bible. ‘Blessed is he that readeth, and they that hear the words of this prophecy, and keep those things which are written therein: for the time is at hand.’ If you’re curious, read the rest of it. The time is, indeed, at hand, Gayle.”

  “What time?”

  “The end.”

  ENTRY 22

  I looked askance at Michael. “As in end-times?”

  He pointed at me and nodded. “Exactly.”

  “My mother used to talk about that when I was a child. But that story’s been bantered about for ages, and it still hasn’t happened. I seriously doubt it ever will. I don’t understand why you’re talking to me about this or what it has to do with me.”

  “What the Order wants to do is a sin—one among their many—of the highest order. No pun intended. They want to involve you, and they’re using Karl to do it. As I said, we haven’t been able to figure out why they want to involve you.”

  “Then you know about Karl getting me transferred, and what he wants me to work on. I feel like I have a bull’s-eye painted on me, with everyone spying on me.”

  Michael nodded. “I get that. And, I know what Karl told you he wants you to work on, and I’m sure he’ll have you do that. Karl and those above him want to rule Earth indefinitely. That means they need a way to transfer their consciousness into genetically enhanced immortal bodies, preferably younger ones. What Karl’s asked you to do is his way of back-dooring the Order, since he isn’t invited. But it’s the other stuff he’s working on that has us concerned.”

  “What other stuff?”

  “We don’t know. You saw the door to the locked room. It has some kind of energy field that prevents us from hacking KATE when he’s in there, and we’ve never caught him talking about it with anyone. I’m certain he must, but he somehow gets around us on that.”

  “Treated lead.”

  “What?”

  “He probably lined the room with sheets of lead treated with something. I don’t know what.”

  Michael rubbed his bristled chin. “No. We can get around that. It’s something else. We want you to find out what’s in that room.”

  “You’re not trying to protect me, you’re trying to recruit me.”

  “We want to do both.”

  I glared at him for a moment then said, “Karl told me it’s ultra top secret and, basically, to mind my own business about it. If I was approved to know, he w
ould have told me.” I slammed the vase down on the countertop. “You and your bunch are as bad as Karl and the Order. You’re all spying on me, using me. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

  “I’d go for paranoid and angry about it. And, you’re right to feel that way. In fact, it’ll keep you sharp. Just know we’re doing what we’re doing to protect you and to protect others. Our motives aren’t selfish. Theirs are. And ungodly.”

  “What do they want?”

  “Everything.”

  “For God’s sake, be more specific.”

  Michael grinned at me. “Okay. But it’s too much to lay on you all at once, so I’ll give you what should be enough.” He grew somber. “Notice how different life is from when you were a child? Notice how much of your life is now connected to the system, how they have you so plugged in you can’t get out without suffering for it? C’mon, Gayle. Food, water, communications, financial wherewithal and the extraordinary cost of living—if you can call it that, transportation, travel, land grabs, restrictions and controls out the wazoo.”

  “All right. There’s that, but they’re trying to make life equitable and peaceful for everyone. They’re trying to save the planet. We were destroying it.”

  He threw his hands up. “No. They were destroying it and said it was us. It was deliberate.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “It does if you want to crush all the good in the world and make everything dark and vile.”

  “Who on earth would want to do that?”

  Michael fixed his gaze on me and said, “Who do you think?”

  ENTRY 23

  I stared at Michael for several seconds. “What medications are you on?”