“Some believe we inherit certain “spiritual” characteristics from our ancestors, even if we never knew them. A case in point was the Kingdom Soldier who brought home an orphaned infant from his tour of duty. He never told the boy of his heritage, only that he was an adopted orphan. The boy grew up, and after his father died, the young man let loose an inner rage against the Kingdom he later said he had had since he could recall.” Paul recounted. “I think the boy’s name was...”
“Simon Augustine.” she finished for him. “I edited the original story once the full truth came out. He confessed to secretly following the Heresy of believing in the false profit of Asia, Secular Humanism, the Declaration of Human Rights, and hating the true Profit. He at first voraciously denied allegations he helped plan and carry out the Megiddo attack, but later confessed to it. He was publicly executed.” Rachel paused. “I was invited, as the wife of one of the victims, to be on the scaffold to watch him die up close. I refused.”
“Why did you refuse?”
“Just because I agree with the death penalty for the most violent offenders in principle does not mean I enjoy watching human beings suffer.” she shrugged. “Truth is, I always hated mandatory attendance executions. I never could watch the whole thing. People nearby looked at me so oddly.”
“If I could tear the Profit’s heart out and make him eat it,” Paul said in a low, husky voice, “I would do it, for my Delilah’s sake.”
Rachel gulped. “You’re a bit scary, Paul.”
“I do what I must to protect, or avenge, my family. My friends.”
“You must think I’m an awful coward, then.”
“No,” he replied, “I find your compassion refreshing in a world where we see so little of it these days. Though you really must try harder to watch how you behave in public. Do you believe Simon Augustine was responsible?”
“No.” she answered flatly. Chewing on her lower lip, she added, “At least, not entirely. I had the benefit of seeing the story develop, then reverse engineering the past to match the final story, remember? There were questionable things. It seemed to me they were more interested in finding someone to vent their rage on than seeking true justice for the dead.”
“And the idea that people inherit their ancestors’ spiritual characteristics?”
“I don’t agree with it.”
“Why not? Simon Augustine is a severe case, but there have been others documented.”
“And they represent what percentage of those in a similar situation? No, I think these are coincidences. Besides, that idea opens the door to all kinds of atrocities. If I believe person X is responsible for the sins of their great-great-great grandparents, then what’s to stop me from punishing them for those sins they never personally committed? When a man commits a crime, we don’t punish his mother for what he did, we punish the man who committed the crime. You don’t believe in it, do you, Paul?”
“I think it may be a contributing factor, but in the end analysis, I more generally agree with you. Just because my grandmother may have been a killer, doesn’t make me a killer. If I inherit the urge to kill, I can suppress the urge or act on it. If I act on it, then I am responsible for the sin. If I suppress it, then have I not overcome what’s in my nature?” he responded.
“We cannot overcome what’s in our nature.” Rachel stated. “We can suppress it. Repress it. Deny it to our discontent. Ignore it. But it’s always there. There is no permanent conquest of what lies beneath. We all have the urge to kill lurking within us. It’s just a question of what brings it out.”
“That’s the teaching of the Profit, you know. That we are all hopelessly lost without him, and the King. The King washes away our past sins, the sins of our forefathers, and gives the Elect a clean heart, a clean soul, that is cured of the urge to sin.” Paul smiled sarcastically.
“Now that is an absurd notion. If I repress my urge to kill, which is inherent in humanity as a survival mechanism when faced with danger or starvation, in a situation that that does not involve survival or food, then have I not temporarily overcome? Just because I cannot permanently erase that which is inherent in me, doesn’t mean I cannot suppress it successfully. Indeed, who is more meritorious? He who had the urge to sin and bested temptation, or he who was never tempted in the first place?” Rachel admitted to her secret Heresy, “The idea that we must depend on the Profit to save us from ourselves is even more ridiculous than the idea of people being raptured. Evidence is abundant that those who say they believe, frequently enough sin. Why do so many believe in it?”
“I’d rather believe in a million absurd explanations that give me hope, than one hideous truth I cannot accept. What about you, Rachel?”
“I want the hideous unacceptable truth, Paul.” she answered. “In fact, I may need your help getting it. I want to find out what really happened to my late husband when he died in Megiddo. Can you help me with that?”
“I’ll help you,” he promised, “but only if you aren’t afraid of whatever we might discover. Some truths we would wish were falsehoods.”
“Thank you.” Rachel offered, smiling warmly. “Temperance said she would show me Megiddo, but not for a few weeks. It’s a lot harder to get in and out of the Gates undetected than we thought.”
Paul sighed.
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure about Temperance. I mean, I know you care for her, but she is quite naive. Immature in some ways.” he said. “Are you sure she’s the right one for you, Rachel?”
Rachel’s expression became stoic. Inside she was annoyed. “I appreciate your concern, Paul, but I’ve vowed to love her. I don’t know her very well. Who can, with the screens everywhere? But I want to know her better as time passes. I was thinking... Why don’t the three of us eat lunch together in your office? You could turn the screen off, we could bring something from home, and we could come and go without others noticing.”
“How can you love someone you barely know?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It’s easy, really. Love is an action. That’s why it’s a verb. I care for her, think of her, and hope she does the same for me.”
There was a long silence. Finally, Paul said, “Alright. But only every other day, and we must be very cautious not to be noticed.”
Rachel hugged him at the moment the Spider Screen came back on. She quickly let him go, then turned and walked out the door. As she headed back to her cubicle, the other Toilers eyed her curiously. A couple of them mumbled as she walked by, but she couldn’t hear what they had to say. Rachel hoped they weren’t saying things that would get her or Paul in trouble.
She swore to herself to be very, very careful in the future.
IX.
Rachel came out of the closet, emerging in confusion. The teachings of the King were nothing like the interpretations of the Profit. Many of the King’s teachings contradicted everything the Kingdom now stood for. How had this happened? How had the teachings of the King become so perverted? Rachel realized it must have begun with the banning of books. Once, books were commonly found in every home, and this Bible would have been no exception. Rachel felt great sadness for what might have been, but now would not be. The Profit, she thought, was the greatest opponent of the King, not his spokesman on Earth.
Shutting the closet door, she turned to the mirror. Adjusting her new bonnet, she surveyed her appearance. The lines around her eyes had become a bit deeper. She wished she had a magical make-up pen to fix her flaws and turn back the years. Such a wish was, of course, Heresy. Cosmetics were an outward sign of vanity and the mark of the whore. No respectable woman was permitted to have them. But if Temperance found her pretty, that was all that mattered.
She heard noise in the outer room. Tentatively stepping across the floor, she peeked around the divider into the main area. A man in an Elect uniform wearing a technician’s badge was servicing her Spider screen. She sighed in relief. For a moment, she thought the Fishers of Men were coming for her. She stepped into the open.
“Good morning, sir.” she greeted him.
He gave her a friendly grin. “Be out of here in just a minute, Ma’am.” He put the backing on the screen and screwed it into place. “Good as new.” He told her, tipping his hat and leaving.
Once he was gone, Rachel stood in front of the Spider screen, viewing the program. It was an infomercial for the most amazing product ever, just like every other infomercial she’d ever seen. The charismatic blond man excitedly reminded viewers that buying this product was patriotic and would help finish paying for the border walls that kept Illegals out of the Kingdom. Nothing seemed different. Rachel wasn’t sure what she had been expecting.
On her way to work, Rachel realized Mr. Christian was following her. He watched her with great interest. Although he knew she was aware of his presence behind her, he never acknowledged the fact. Rachel was very uncomfortable, especially since she had turned down his advances the day before at the office. She decided maybe it was just a coincidence that they were walking the same exact path to work that morning and ignored him.
After the morning devotion, Rachel sought out Temperance in the hallway. Shaking her hand, she passed off a note alerting Temperance to their lunch time plans. Rachel worked at her tasks, completing them quickly, and asked for extra work to throw off any suspicions about her loyalty to the Kingdom. She performed the additional tasks adeptly and with great zeal.
The lunch bell rang, and everyone left except Rachel, as she was finishing up her extra task. Once everyone was gone, Rachel ended the task and went into Paul’s office.
He immediately clicked off the Spider Screen, and retrieved a basket from underneath the desk. They smiled at each other. A soft knock sounded on the door behind them, and Temperance entered the room.
“Lock the door.” Rachel told her. Temperance did so, then looked at the silent, dark Spider Screen.
“So,” Temperance remarked, “it’s true. You can turn them on and off.”
“Yes, I can.” he confessed. “And I’m not the only one. I understand a few other Directors have that ability too. But please, don’t tell anyone else. They’ll take it away if they know I’ve shown it to unauthorized personnel.”
“I wouldn’t tell anyone, silly.” Temperance said. “What’s in the basket?”
Paul opened the lid and laid out a red and white checkered tablecloth on his desk. He took out a jar of peanut butter, strawberry jelly, some pieces of bread, sliced Colby cheese, and a bottle of grape juice. He began making sandwiches for each of them.
“Wow,” Temperance remarked, “the cheese and juice must have cost you a month’s pay. Is this supposed to be a date?”
Paul laughed. “In a way, I guess it is a date. It’s just not a romantic one for me. Actually, this stuff was left from last time Delilah went shopping. I never used to do the grocery shopping. Only now do I realize how expensive some things are.”
They ate silently, intent on enjoying their food. Rachel closed her eyes and tried to savor the flavors, chewing slowly. Temperance ate at a fast pace, not wanting the delicious flavors to remain absent even a moment, unable to slow down even if she wanted to. Paul ate his portion with indifference, watching them enjoy their food. He had never much thought about the food that graced his table, but was coming to realize his table was better prepared than most. Paul felt both an appreciation for his ability to give them joy in such a simple act as eating, and a sense of loss over his wife who once set their table at home. This time, the feeling of loss was almost bearable. Almost.
“Please, please, ladies,” he said, pouring the juice into paper cups, “eat and drink as much as you like.”
“Thanks, Paul.” Temperance said, indulging in the food and drink a second time.
“The strangest thing happened to me today.” Rachel reported. “Mr. Christian followed me from my street all the way to work today. He didn’t seem happy with me. I turned down a possible marriage offer yesterday.”
Paul grimaced. “Caiaphas Christian transferred in from the Boston Gates. He was engaged to a pretty girl. Her family was in dire straits and he offered to help them out, being a man of means, reputation, and good breeding. The father called off the engagement, for reasons unspecified, but didn’t have the money to pay for negation of the marriage contract. Christian filed suit in the Seat of Judgment, but before the case could be adjudicated, the girl and her father came up missing. Christian moved here to escape the rumors, claiming he had nothing to do with their disappearance. After all, if they never return, he has no claim in court and loses his credits.”
“He’s good looking.” Temperance remarked. “In a creepy, Kingdom kind of way.” She added.
Paul continued, “Rachel, stay away from this character. He’s trouble.”
“Paul,” she answered, “I didn’t go looking for this trouble, it found me. If only I could have a way to defend myself.”
Weapons were issued by permit only to those deemed loyal to the Profit. Male children of the Elect who showed proficiency with firearms and demonstrated their loyalty to the Kingdom could be issued a firearm. Women were never permitted to carry a firearm. A woman caught so much as touching a firearm could be branded a Heretic and executed. Women were not permitted to carry any sort of weapon, including a steak knife, outside their homes. It was the man of the family’s responsibility to protect the females. A female without a male defender was vulnerable.
“If he hurts you, I would be out of my mind crazy.” Temperance told her, leaning over and kissing her on the mouth.
“He won’t.” Paul said emphatically.
“Now, Paul, don’t do anything you’ll regret.” Rachel warned him. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“Let’s talk of other things. Our time is so short.” Temperance said.
“Paul, are you a native of the Gates?”
“No. I was born on an army base in Indiana.” he replied. “My father was a soldier under the Humanist nation, before the Glorious Revolution. He died in 2012; I was maybe fifteen. My mother carried on an affair with one of the Elect while my dad was away fighting for what he believed in. Later, she married her lover.”
“Any brothers or sisters?”
“My older sister fled to Germany with her husband around the time of the Glorious Revolution. Since they’re considered traitors, I haven’t heard from them since, nor can I try to locate them.” Seeing their confusion, he explained, “Germany was a country that existed before the Glorious Revolution. It may still exist for all I know.”
“That’s awful.” Rachel said. “I’m sorry, Paul.”
“I stayed to be with Delilah.” he told them. “Now she’s gone too. Life feels empty at times. To be honest, I don’t think I could bear it if it weren’t for having a good friend. Or two.”
They raised their paper cups and toasted to their friendship. The preliminary end of lunch bell rang. Rachel and Temperance scurried to their stations before anyone returned that might see them leaving Paul’s office. Over the next two weeks, they met in Paul’s office every other day as scheduled, careful to avoid the notice of their co-workers when coming and going. On Devotion Days, they sat together in the Assembly, and participated in the same Kingdom activities, making all the correct outward shows of adoration of the King and his Profit.
Their ‘togetherness’ was only marred by the unrelenting presence of Mr. Christian, who followed Rachel wherever she went, and made it difficult for her to relax in any public setting. It had been almost three weeks since she rejected Mr. Christian when he managed to corner her alone at work in the hallway as she was heading to lunch. He forced her against the wall and leaned against her, the full weight of his body upon her. He grasped her chin with his hand forcefully, the other arm pinning her in place.
“Perhaps I did not make myself clear.” he hissed at her, forcing her to look into his eyes. She whimpered as he rubbed his pelvis against hers. “I fancy you. You will belong to me. This can be an easy process, an enjoyable process for
you, or it can be painful and humiliating. The choice is yours. Don’t make me wait too long for an answer.”
After he walked away, Rachel could still feel the imprint of his hands on her body. She felt powerless and wounded inside. She held it together long enough to make it to Paul’s office. She came inside, shut the door, and slid to the ground, weeping. He turned off the screen and in the flash of an eye, scooped her up off the floor in his arms. He sat on the edge of the desk and rocked her while she wept.
“Rachel?” he asked after a minute. “What’s the matter? What happened? You’re shaking all over.” He tipped her face upward and examined the red marks on her chin. He let her go, then placed her gently into the chair. He stormed out of the office, leaving Rachel to regain her composure. When he didn’t return, Rachel went back to her desk and continued working, not wanting to evoke suspicion.
When she arrived home that evening, she felt lost and concerned. Why had Paul left her alone? Why didn’t he return? Where did he go? She was worried about him, but it would be unseemly for her to try to reach him outside of work. The instances they had met outside the office over the past few weeks had been pre-arranged, rather than spontaneous, events.
Without warning, the Spider Screen in the main room began blinking on and off. She stood in front of it, at a safe distance, watching. After a few more flashes of blue light, the screen’s programming had changed. On the screen in front of her was a man in his late fifties, dressed in a white coat and pale khaki pants. He wore glasses, had dark, greying hair, and a beard. His eyes were kind and serene.
“Rachel, can you hear me?” he asked. “I can see you. My God, you’re so much like your father. How long I’ve searched for you!”
She carefully approached the screen, the same way primitive man approached fire. “I see and hear you. Who are you? How do you know my father?”
“We were friends who fought against the Profit in the so-called Glorious Revolution. Which ought to have been named the “war of the crazed zealots against the rational beings”. Sadly, the rational beings lost that civil war. You are trapped in its result.”
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