by J. M. Clark
Ethan’s entire face lit up like Christmas on Times Square with an ah-hah look. His eyes got smaller as he tilted his head to the side a bit. “But isn’t that exactly what happened, Mr. Cox? Didn’t the top one percent of the population end up lording over the other ninety-nine percent?”
Trevor sat back on the bench, caught off guard. He looked up into the beautiful blue sky, leaving Ethan to wade in his river of success. To Ethan, making a legit point to the old guy about a world he himself had never seen was a great success. Part of that fact angered Trevor, and the other part made him think deeply on the subject.
He shrugged and thought to himself, Kid has a point. These Palace children were sharp. The world had indeed changed, and yet Trevor had not. In that moment, he felt prehistoric, being given a subtle lesson on logic by a child that had never left the confines of this hundred-yard radius in all his life.
“Well yeah, I guess you are right, Ethan. And that’s how we ended up here,” Trevor said, touching him on the head.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Cox, we are going back out into the world soon, and we will take it back. Sirus has been saying that most of the sickness has passed.” Ethan looked up at Trevor with a light of hope in his eyes that could light the darkest cave.
“Yeah, that’s what they say, Ethan.” He didn’t mention the fact that they’d been saying that since the Palace had been created twenty years ago. “Any day now, I’m sure we’ll be out.” Trevor returned the hopeful smile to the Palace-born teenager. He didn’t believe they’d be out any time soon, but he hoped for it just the same.
Ethan got up from his sitting position, dusted the dirt and stones from the back pockets of his blue jeans, and shook the hand of one of the oldest men in the Palace. He thanked Trevor for the talk then mentioned that he had a lecture coming up and relations exercise that evening. Trevor wished the young man a joyful day and watched him walk back inside the Palace.
For the next hour or so, Trevor sat there in the courtyard, surrounded by the beautiful shrubbery, flowers, hedges, and small ponds. He could hear the laughter of others in the area as he watched the kids running and jumping over the ponds, playing tag and ball games. He could even spot his still-beautiful wife, Amy, walking the trail with her friends. Some of her girlfriends were young, some as old as himself. She enjoyed walking out in the courtyard, and he still lived to see her smile.
The Palace—or the prison, as Trevor called it when he was alone with Amy in their pod—had all a man could want. Great weather, food, socializing, sex, learning, and safety. If you asked him though, he would still choose the Old World over this nonsensical fake stuff. Negativity ran rampant in the Old World, and that was okay to an extent, because it was real, it was genuine.
Trevor didn’t feel things were genuine here; he never had. From the very beginning, it felt off somehow, but what was the alternative? He thought about how much things had changed—and how much things had stayed the same—as he went back to watching Amy.
Chapter Nine
Rachel
Rachel sat on the white couch inside of her very own pod and did what she did every morning before getting her day started. She woke up and had a chilled glass of orange juice. Every night before bed, she input the usual breakfast order into the nutrition dispensary so that it was ready when she awakened: a bran muffin, butter, and a sharp knife to spread the butter. She never had much of an appetite early in the morning, but Sirus and the teachers constantly said that breakfast was the most important meal of the day, so she never missed it.
Even at sixteen years old, she was a good listener and prided herself on taking direction. She would like nothing more than to reach the level of Greater Understanding and be released out into the world to help repair what had been broken for so long. She was committed to it—they all were.
Since the age of ten, she had occupied this pod alone, and the accreditations lining themselves up in her personal file were a sight to behold. Teacher Luke was always telling her that he wished more of the Palace-born were like her. He seemed to have taken a liking to her as of late. He was a really nice guy, and he often came and checked on her to make sure she was doing well. Sometimes he even checked her sheets to make sure they were properly fluffed. “You have a way of taking everything in stride, so even-keeled,” she remembered him saying. He was utterly wrong, but she appreciated the sentiment. It made her smile, and Rachel took pride in her ability to stand out in a class of hopefuls. Since her days in the child center, she had been touted as a leader.
After finishing her bran muffin, she walked over to the nutrition dispensary and set the saucer on the silver tray along with her now empty glass and the remaining butter. “Waste not want not” was one of the major tenets of the Palace, and for good reason.
Standing in the center of the living area of her pod, she looked around happily. There was a lot to be appreciative of. Without the Order and all that they had put together in hopes of sustaining life, who knew where everyone would be today. They had teachers to help them prepare for the New World, cleaners that came to pick up after them, and the security squad that kept them safe.
Rachel clasped her hands together in front of her face and spoke Mother Earth’s prayer in her mind: Thank you for breathing life into every man, woman, child, and lifeform that you deemed fit to walk on your skin, drink of your bosom, and eat of your fruit. We are thankful, and we shall never take your gifts for granted, O Merciful Mother Earth. Amen. No day was ready to be tackled without Mother Earth’s prayer. Teacher Luke always said that.
Rachel knew the white color scheme of the pods symbolized the fact that they were a pure people, a renewal of humankind, free of all the filth, greed, and selfishness that had plagued the last generation and brought the sickness upon the earth. Dirt and grime showed easily on the white, and they had to be reminded of filth’s presence when it is present. Both spiritually and physically. This small pod housed Rachel’s entire life within it. This was home, the only home she had ever known.
In the Palace, there was no such thing as parent/child relationships, for no one person belonged to another. This concept wouldn’t be foreign to any Palace-born person, but those from the Old World found it hard to deal with. The teachers taught that possession breeds selfishness, which in turn breeds vile thoughts and leads to rot of the soul. She agreed; you had to get those thoughts out of your body as soon as you felt them boiling deep inside of your being.
After growing up in the child center until age ten, they released her to a single pod, a process called level ascension, to begin common life in the Palace. This consisted of morning enrichments, activity time, lectures, and relations exercises (sex for its health and social benefits, which would not begin until one was biologically capable). But above all that, the most important point of focus for each Palace member was the internal war within to be the best person one could be.
The various Palaces were only meant to be temporary annoyances, but when you were dealing with the survival of the human race, you must make sure that every i was dotted and every t was crossed. The old people were becoming irritated with how slowly things were going, but better safe than sorry.
Rachel stepped into the bathroom outside of the eye in the television screen (there had been rumors about hidden cameras). All was not meant for the eyes of everyone, not even the teachers. The journey of greater understanding was mentally taxing, and all should be allowed the time to…defuse in the manner that they saw fit, so long as it didn’t hurt others, the earth, or her natural resources.
She set the knife used to spread butter next to the sink and began to remove her clothes. She folded her white tee shirt and placed it just outside of the bathroom on the white carpet. She wriggled her small, lean body out of the white linen panties and laid those on top of the tee shirt. Now fully nude, she grabbed the knife and stepped into the shower.
She closed the glass sliding door behind her, then turned on the water. Steam began to fill the bathroom, and the water fel
t lovely against her skin. She would get a chance to clean her body afterwards. For now, there were more pressing matters to attend to if she was going to make it through this week. Thank you, O Merciful Mother, for I am a child of your doing and of your will.
Feeling the droplets of water raining down on her long brown hair, she closed her eyes and took it all in. The feeling was almost euphoric, the anticipation was always the best part. She wondered if anyone else in the Palace defused in this way. They had activities on the eighth floor to help relieve stress, but those never worked much for her.
Rachel raised her right arm to the ceiling of the bathroom, head still pointing down toward the shower floor. She didn’t need to look up and watch the knife go about its work; she’d been doing this for the past two years and could do it in her sleep. Holding the knife in her left hand, she touched the blade to the soft, damaged skin just above her armpit, which had just begun to sprout hair a year ago. Rachel held the knife on her arm, feeling the blade dig into the skin but not cutting yet. The coolness of the metal felt good to her in comparison to the hot water.
Slowly, she began to slice vertically down her arm, just like she had once a week for the past year or so. Even though the hot water from the shower came beating down on portions of her body, she could still feel the warmth of blood running down her arm and onto her chest.
The weight of blood was different from water; it was heavier, more meaningful. The difference became noticeable to her. She never looked up to see it though, for this would be a vile deed, and she was not a bad person undeserving of Mother Earth’s love. Even so, the sensation forced her mouth to curve into a smile. It felt orgasmic, and her eyes squeezed shut as she bit her bottom lip in ecstasy. Rachel’s left hand dropped to her side, still clutching the knife, before the pleasure forced her to drop it. Her body weakened and slumped a bit.
She took in the feeling of what she would call defusing from the mental and moral Olympics that went hand in hand with training to be a soldier on the front lines of healing the earth. She was game for the battle to come; it would not be easy to fix what became broken out in the world, and it would take strength and resiliency. She prepared herself for the rigors of future responsibility by cutting herself, by releasing.
The water on the floor of the shower had become pink, with darker red loops and patterns swimming around within it. It looked like the loops and lines of red were chasing each other down the drain. This war would not be won with guns, bombs, or any kind of violence. That didn’t work. That thought process got humankind in this mess to begin with. This war would be won with kindness, selflessness, and compassion.
I’ll hurt myself before I hurt another, she thought as she picked up the knife and raised it a second time. Her right hand was still raised to the ceiling, fingers bent, dripping water from the shower. She carved another piece of her arm in the same area as the first cut, but considerably deeper this time. She wanted to touch her arm bone with the blade if she could.
The pain-pleasure dropped her to her knees. The fall would most likely bruise her knees, but right now that wasn’t important. She collapsed like a baby deer learning to walk, legs splayed out in two different directions beneath the weight of her small body. She dropped the knife again and sat there, now opening her eyes to watch the blood go tumbling down into the drain. It was darker this time. The pink water turned to red water, and she could see all the stress that had left her body. That’s my confusion, that’s my pain leaving my body; that’s the weakness of my being leaving me.
This act of defusing always left her feeling a tad lightheaded after a while—that was when she knew it was time to get on with the shower, dry off, and bandage the wounds. If she didn’t take that cue from her body, she would surely kill herself from blood loss. She was mindful of that though, so she never went too far.
After dressing the wounds and putting on clothes for the day, she went back to the bathroom to retrieve the knife from the shower. She made sure all the blood and any evidence of this week’s defusing session were gone from the sight of any teacher that would come into her pod to clean while she followed her daily schedule.
To be caught self-harming or having any sign of mental instability would be a cause for mental evaluation, and that would go in her personal file, which could set back her course toward the Greater Understanding Program. She would not have that.
All was well though. She returned the clean knife to the silver tray with the glass and saucer, and the shower beamed its white glow, as it had before she’d dirtied it with her defusing method. Rachel put on a jean skirt with a long-sleeve red shirt, tied her hair up into a ponytail, checked her face in the mirror, and flashed a big beautiful smile at herself. “Today is going to be a wonder-filled day.” She grabbed her notebook and pen and walked out of the pod. All was perfect.
Chapter Ten
Sirus
“How are you doing, Mr. Beneford?” Sirus glared at the small balding man sitting on the opposite side of the massive oak desk. A small gold statue of Earth sat dead center in the middle of the desk. The office was dark, the only light coming from assorted candles all over the room. The curtains were drawn, giving the room almost a mournful atmosphere. A plethora of assorted papers and folders were scattered on Sirus’s side of the desk, and the folder on top of that pile had Aiden Beneford’s name on it.
“I’m doing fine, sir, thank you for asking. I’d like to say how truly honored I am that I get to speak with you.” The man twiddled his fingers together. No one got to speak to Sirus. They knew him through feeds from the television screen in their pods at dinnertime, and that was it. Sirus noticed the anxiousness falling off the gentleman like sweat beads rolling down the forehead of someone sitting in a hot car on a summer afternoon. The man forced a weak smile, but Sirus saw the small quiver in his bottom lip.
“Are you nervous, Mr. Beneford? I assure you, there is no reason for that. I want you to be calm. It’s really a pleasure to meet you.” Sirus glanced across the desk with a warm smile, the kind a mother gives her child when he comes home with all As on his report card.
“No sir, not nervous at all. Maybe a little excited, yes. I’ve been told by Teacher Paul that you were considering me for the Greater Understanding Program. I’ve been working hard to realize this moment since we all arrived here, and frankly I’d like to hear more about that, if that’s the truth of course. It’s very likely that my excitement is getting the better of me, and that’s coming across in my behavior. My apologies,” he replied.
Sirus continued to smile but didn’t speak. He held his stare for a few seconds, then got up from his seat and pushed the wooden chair with dark brown leather armrests into the desk. Letting the words drift in the room, he built the man’s anticipation for his response. Sirus walked over to the window and opened a slit in the curtain. He stared out into the Palace courtyard, leaving Mr. Beneford to sit anxiously, awaiting the words to come.
“Well, Mr. Beneford, if Teacher Paul said that, then there has to be something to it. My men do not lie, that’s not how things are run here.” He stopped looking out the window and turned to the gentleman sitting at the desk. He stared into Beneford’s eyes, making sure that his words were being taken seriously. He was establishing control of this dialogue, and he wanted to make sure that Beneford knew that. “Have you enjoyed your time in the Palace, Mr. Beneford?” Sirus asked in a friendly voice as he turned back to the window. “I’d imagine so, considering the alternative.”
Mr. Beneford adjusted his sitting position in the chair. “Of course, you’ll want to answer honestly,” Sirus prodded. “We all know that absolute honesty is an important tenet of the Palace.” He watched as Beneford glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It was a big, beautiful clock that ticked loudly. One like they had back in the Old World, but even those were antiques back then. Many other things in Sirius’s office were objects from the Old World. There was even a pack of baseball cards on the bookshelf.
&n
bsp; “Hmm, for an older guy like myself, that’s a tough question to answer, Mr. Sirus, sir. I did live in the world prior to the sickness, so while I do appreciate this beautiful place, I long for things to go back to the way they were. Without the negativity and destruction of the earth’s resources…of course.”
The man crossed his legs and sat up straighter in his chair. Sirus could tell by Beneford’s expression that he believed he’d answered the question in a way that the teachers would expect.
“It’s not a tough question, though. Either you have enjoyed the time you have spent in this facility, or you have not found it enjoyable. There would be nothing wrong with either answer. Of course, I’m asking because I care about how you and every other member of this Palace, and every Palace outside of this one, feels. I want to know how people are adjusting over the years.” Sirus let a hand caress the oak-brown curtain as he spoke. “So please, spare me the long-winded explanation.”
“Very understandable, Sirus. I did not mean to be vague,” Mr. Beneford said, bowing his head forward slightly.
“It’s important to the government to keep you all safe and happy while we are making things safe and stable for our return to living on the outside. But when it happens, it will be a New World, with upgrades to our thinking and society building. I won’t bore you with that though. You have been studying for the last twenty years, so I’m sure you could teach me a thing or two on the ideology changes of our species.”
