2042: An American 1984-Dystopian Thriller

by Leigh Holland

  Temperance sighed. “You’re such an idealist, Rachel. They have been taught, as have we all, that the Convicted deserve their fate as punishment from God. Now me personally, I am uncertain if this teaching is true. And I do feel a bit sorry for their plight. But the Elect are “true believers”, dear. They would have no reason to want to change the Convicted’s situation, particularly since it’s the King’s will.”

  It was dark out now, and the streets were unfamiliar and stark. The rain having recently stopped, the streets were largely empty of people for the time being. They walked along in silence for a bit, then began talking again.

  “Tell me about your family.” Rachel requested.

  “Not much to tell, really. My father died of an unknown disease a few years ago. We were close. I miss him always. My older sister, Elizabeth, is married and has three kids. She’s expecting their fourth. Her husband wants a dozen, I’m told. My older brother is fighting for the Kingdom in Middle Asia, trying to end the evil of Currency Manipulation. My mother gets news from him weekly. Since she has so many grandchildren, she figures it’s only natural I ought to do her proud and become a Perpetual Vestal.”

  “It must be hard financially for your family, since your father passed away.”

  “Not really.” Temperance shrugged. “We get a stipend for my brother’s service. I work for a living and bring home a decent wage. My brother-in-law is always bringing my mother little extras he picks up on his business trips. So, we do just fine.” Temperance guided them to a weak point in the Wall, where security was lax. “We can get back in through here.”

  They both hesitated to return to the Gates. Returning to the Gates meant returning to the lies they lived. Temperance lit a cigarette and smoked it slowly.

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” Temperance asked, “how did John Wright die?”

  “He was wandering out in Purgatory one day, for reasons unknown, much as we have been this evening.” She said. “He was walking along, and a hidden planted bomb went off. It killed him instantly. It happened in Megiddo.”

  “I’m sorry, Rachel.” she said softly. “That’s terrible.”

  “It’s alright. Now I just want to try to find out what happened to him. I mean, what he was doing in Purgatory that day. See where he died. For closure. But I worry about coming back to Purgatory anytime soon. And I certainly can’t come the same way. I can’t risk any more harm coming to Bartholomew because of me.”

  “I’ll arrange a trip back here another time. I’ll plan for us to make the journey together. Then I’ll show you the place where- then I’ll show you Megiddo. But, of course, you’re right. We cannot come back to Purgatory for a while. Maybe a month. Maybe longer. How will we manage once we return inside there?” Her voice was full of longing and sadness. She looked at her watch. “Okay, it’s time. The Spider-screens on this street inside the Wall are always disabled this day each week, for about five minutes. As far as I know, that hasn’t changed. So, we should go now, and avoid letting anyone who may be on the street seeing us return through the bushes just beyond the wall. Got it?”

  Rachel nodded, then went through. Peeking over the bushes, she saw the screens were turned off, and there was only a small group of children walking a dog. She stood up and began walking along the street. They took only a passing notice of her. Rachel hoped Temperance made it through without any difficulty, but couldn’t afford to wait and see if she was alright. One could never know when a child might be working for Fatherland Security.

  Upon arriving home, Rachel went to the closet, removed the aluminum foil from her wrist, and hung up her dress, leaving the Bible in the pocket. Though she was curious to read the book, rather than turn it in to the DOC, she wanted a shower before she did anything else. While she washed in the hot water, she decided to keep the book. She would read a little of it each day inside the closet. She was a fast and skillful reader, one of the reasons she was given the News Weaver position in the first place.

  Over the next week, Rachel continued her life as though nothing were different. She practiced reining in her body language and above all, her facial expressions. She worked with Temperance and a few of the other Vestals educating young girls about abstinence and the laws of harlotry. By the end of the week, Rachel felt that by all outward signs, none would be able to tell what was truly in her heart. Even the elderly Perpetual Vestal, Miss Abigail, approved of her as a good influence among the Vestals and as a good friend to Temperance. Though truthfully, it was very hard to keep from letting her deeper feelings for Temperance show when they worked on the Vestal projects together. But she managed to pretend they were just friends.

  In her closet in the morning and at night, she read the Bible. Rachel realized many of the laws in the Five Books of Moses were like the Kingdom laws. She believed that this Bible had to be the Divine Word from which the Profit derived the laws and culture of the Kingdom, albeit in a harsh form. But where in it was the King to be found? Flipping through it, she discovered there were many kings, per a book of the same name. There also seemed to be a second half of the Bible, called “the New Testament”. Rachel decided that next week, she would read this section of the Bible.

  At work, Rachel saw Paul twice in his office. Both times he put down that he was discussing her work record with her. In actuality, she told him about her adventures in Purgatory and her desire to find out what really happened to John Wright. Paul lamented his raptured wife. She knew there would be talk if they continued meeting at work, so she suggested meeting two nights per week in the park. Although there were Spider-screens there, his remote could turn them off. He agreed to do so.

  This Devotion Day, Rachel dressed in her finest as usual, but was enthusiastic about the assembly. She was enthusiastic about life, because now she had love, she had allies who thought much as she did. She wasn’t alone anymore. When she arrived, she sat in an empty pew near the front. Paul sat to her right, and Temperance and her mother sat to her left. Temperance and Paul nodded to each other, meeting through Rachel for the first time. Mr. Christian sat on the opposite side of Paul, and at every available opportunity, talked to Rachel about anything and everything he could think of. Rachel had believed he was a spy, and her belief was unchanged despite his friendliness. Although the threesome of “Heart Heretics” could not speak openly, they spoke volumes to each other with their eyes.

  As Rachel entered the toil place the next day and went to the basement for the Morning Devotion, she saw Esther Wordsworth bustling along ahead of her towards the Orange area. Rachel hurried to keep up with her, calling out, “Mrs. Wordsworth! Mrs. Wordsworth, is that you?” Esther didn’t acknowledge her. Rachel moved more quickly, darting around several language dics and issuing apologies for her abruptness. She reached her hand out towards her shoulder, a mere two feet away from touching her.

  “Mrs. Wordsworth!” she said, trying to get her attention to no avail.

  “Mrs. John Wright?” came a familiar male voice from behind her.

  Swirling around, Rachel came face to face with Mr. Christian. He smiled at her. Rachel returned a polite, guarded smile.

  “I wasn’t aware you were a Dic.” Rachel remarked. “You know, a language editor.” She turned her head away, looking for Esther. No matter which way she turned, she seemed to have lost sight of her.

  “Oh,” he said, “no, I’m a Director of Operations over the Language, Web Literature, and Censorship departments. I usually do devotion with the Literature crowd, but decided to shake things up this morning.”

  Realizing she could not find Esther, she ceased looking for the moment. Mr. Christian stared at her curiously.

  “I understand you work as a News Weaver.” he asked, expressing concern. “What are you doing in this area? You’re about to be late. You know how the powers that be feel about tardiness.”

  The bell rang and Rachel gasped. Apologizing, she rushed past Mr. Christian and raced to the Blue Room. Arriving late, she winced and took a seat in the rear. The
Devotion Leader marked her down and glared at her momentarily before continuing. Everyone stared at her with disapproving looks. Rachel pretended there was a pane of glass in front of her, deflecting their glares, then she joined in with the devotion.

  Afterwards, she went to her work station. Her first task for the day was to read an article that had been written for the upcoming anniversary of the terrorist attack known as “Megiddo”, and then “correct” any past articles that didn’t match. Her husband died in Megiddo under strange circumstances. Although Rachel and John Wright had their difficulties, she didn’t hate him. Often there were times she missed his company. Despite his prudish sexual habits, harsh marital ‘discipline’, and obsessive devotion to the Profit, he had provided for her and loved her in his own way. Rachel opened the article and began to read.

  Megiddo Remembered

  “It will be four years ago next week that the Kingdom suffered the greatest terrorist attacks on its own soil, and those murdered that day will always be remembered. Among the ceremonies planned will be the reading of the names of the victims at the Megiddo Memorial, and a medal of honor and service given to those brave service workers who tried to save lives that day.

  “It was 2 in the afternoon on a cold Autumn day. Leaves stirred on the ground and the Convicted toiled away, as the King intended them to do. Suddenly, a low rumble could be felt that extended all the way through the Megiddo Quarter of Purgatory. The terror attack ended quickly, demolishing some six tenement buildings and spreading soot and ash across Purgatory. Six hundred and sixty women and children were killed in the attack. All the victims were the Convicted, as God protects His Elect personally. We can all be thankful that neither the corporate sector, nor the Profit, Saints, or Elect, were harmed by this tragic act of cowardly villainous terror.

  ” The Megiddo Council investigated the terror attack and determined that a terrorist had infiltrated the Kingdom, and strapped a bomb made of homemade materials to himself. He then entered the central building and detonated himself.

  “This act of terror confirmed once more the desperate need to continue the global War Against Terror. These buildings were targeted specifically because innocent, common women and children were present. This attack represented their hatred of the rights of the common people of the Kingdom to toil away in freedom, and their anger at the distinct advantages true believers will have over them in the Afterlife. Commemoration ceremony donations can be made to the Profit Fund on any Spider Screen.”

  Rachel sat staring at her task for a few minutes. Did they not know who her husband had been? Did they think she would have forgotten he died in Megiddo? She stroked her chin thoughtfully. Maybe this was a test of some sort. She stood up and peeked over the edge of her cubicle wall. She didn’t see the Fishers of Men nearby, awaiting orders to execute her as soon as she failed the test. She sat back down and stared at the screen. It was staring back at her. She knew somewhere, someone was watching how she reacted to this task.

  Opening the editing application, she ran the article through the usual protocols for spelling and grammar. Then she began checking past articles against it. In every prior article, her late husband was mentioned either in passing or directly as a victim. The fact he was an Elect was emphasized heavily, presumably to ensure outrage at his passing. Images of him surrounded by a heavenly aura graced the pages of the articles. Taking a deep breath, she began deleting all images and references to John Wright. The last reference she edited was his obituary. Instead of deleting it entirely, which would have erased him from the memory of the History Web, Rachel changed the cause of death to a heart attack and removed any references to Megiddo from the text. She just couldn’t bring herself to delete his memory from the Web entirely.

  “Mrs. Wright,” Mr. Christian said, startling her, “forgive me, but I was asked to tell you to come immediately to Mr. Hale’s office.”

  “Oh, it’s alright, you just gave me a start.” she replied. “I was busy toiling away at my task. Happily.”

  She rose and walked out in the hall heading towards Paul’s office. Mr. Christian walked beside her.

  “I just want you to know,” he told her, “I didn’t tell on you for being tardy this morning. So, if this is about that, I had nothing to do with it.”

  She sighed. “Thank you, Mr. Christian, I appreciate your concern.”

  Although it seemed to Rachel the conversation ought to be at an end, he kept pace with her. She finally stopped in front of Paul’s office door and faced Mr. Christian.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

  He smiled and removed his hat for a moment. Bowing to her, he inquired, “Might you accompany me to the Coffee Shop after work, Mrs. Wright? I would love to buy you a cup of coffee and discuss our future together.”

  Rachel turned pale. He wasn’t following her around because he was a spy. He was following her around because he wanted her to be his wife. Although Rachel found Mr. Christian attractive, she had no interest in being his wife. She was sworn to Temperance now. And Mr. Christian might yet still be a spy, she thought to herself.

  “Oh, my, sir,” she fumbled over her words, “I believe I must decline your generous offer.”

  He frowned and his brow took on an angry heaviness. She recognized the expression. It was the same one her late spouse used to have when she said or did something he felt bordered on Heresy. It betrayed a certain disgust, as though she were suddenly no longer human, but merely a thing that had displeased him. She curtsied and bid him good day, then opened the door and entered Paul’s office.

  Leaning her back against the door, she worried he might try to walk in on them. She twisted the lock closed, then approached the desk.

  “Have a seat.” Paul told her, perusing a piece of paper.

  Once she was seated, he turned off the Spider Screen, and said, “Do you know what this is?” She nodded negatively.

  “It’s a tardy occurrence.” He continued. “From the Devotion Leader. Do you know what I’m supposed to do to you now?”

  Rachel grinned. “Spank me?”

  Paul sighed. “I’m supposed to furlough you for a week without pay. To teach you the value of timeliness in all things.”

  Rachel shrugged. “I have some money saved up. It will be hard, but I’ll make do if I must. If you must punish me, then punish me.”

  “No,” he answered, “I’m going to do this instead.” He inserted the

  offensive report into the paper shredder and pressed the button. The shredded pieces fell out the bottom into the wastebasket.

  “I hope you don’t get in trouble over that.” she said.

  “That’s what friends do for each other, right?” he smiled. “Besides it was a good reason to call you in here to talk about other matters.”

  “A good reason that no longer exists. What did you want to talk about?”

  Paul strode over to the large, dark, silent Spider screen. His expression was filled with venom as he told her, “They took my Delilah away from me. For that I can never forgive them. I harbor a burning rage against them that I must hide constantly. Sometimes, though, I feel as though I am losing my mind.” His expression softened and he faced her. “Rachel, I think I saw Delilah last night.”

  She sat up straight in her chair. “Where?”

  “On my street, as I was walking home from the assembly. I know it was her. I called out to her, but she didn’t seem to hear me. I tried to chase after her, but the streets were so full with people after the service. I lost her in the crowd.” He paused a moment and watched her reaction. “You think I have lost my mind, don’t you?”

  “No,” she responded. Rachel took in what he was saying, and thought of Esther. “The reason I was late this morning was because I could’ve sworn I’d seen Mrs. Wordsworth on her way to devotion. But I got distracted by Mr. Christian, and when I turned back around, she had vanished.”

  They sat in silence for a minute, staring at each other. Finally, Paul said, “The Rapt
ured don’t return. Not until the King does. At least, that’s what we’ve been told all these years.”

  “Do you believe she was actually raptured?”

  He thought about it carefully. “Part of me does. Part of me has to believe. If she was raptured, then I will be reunited with her one day. I don’t want to live eternally without her, Rachel. But there’s the other part, the part that knows deep down they’ve done something with her...it doesn’t believe at all. I’ve seen too much to believe people are being raptured.”

  “Did you believe she was raptured before you saw her last night?”

  “No.” he replied. “When I got home that day, she was gone. Just gone. All her things were gone, too. No one explained it. I called for help. That’s when the Spider Screen came on alerting everyone she had been ‘raptured’ while I’d been away shopping. Now tell me, what would she need her things for in heaven?” He laughed. “It was then I knew they’d taken her. I presumed she was killed, since the Raptured don’t return.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I’m just not certain.” he admitted. “Either I was mistaken about her identity, which is highly doubtful. Or I was seeing a returned Raptured person and the King is about to reign for a thousand years, ending the Terror Tribulation. Or...” he paused, winced, then said, “or, my beloved has betrayed me in some way.”

  Rachel considered it carefully. “I didn’t see Esther from the front. I could’ve been wrong. Maybe you were too.”

  “Ghosts of our past, determining our present, thus dominating our future.” Paul murmured. “Strange, isn’t it, how the people of the past have shaped us, driven us into what we are today?”

  “I only recently have begun to recall my childhood, my family, my parents. I suffered from amnesia from trauma I suffered during the Glorious Revolution. Although the memories I’ve recovered point to a very different and more disturbing source of my amnesia.” Rachel informed him. “How much could I have been shaped by a family I tragically couldn’t remember?”