by J. M. Clark
Sirus turned and looked at Mr. Beneford with that same smile, the calming smile, as he glided back over to the desk. Sirus knew that everything he did screamed of flare—it was part of what made him so charismatic, part of why the Order had appointed him the program director of the Palace.
He was a good-looking man by any standards. He had short brown hair interspersed with grays, the color of burnt umber and ash. There was also a touch of gray in the middle of his trim beard, and he wore a nice pair of reading glasses, which had no chance of concealing his light-blue eyes, almost the color of freezing ice. Sirus quickly learned that his six-foot-four frame could be intimidating in the Palace, even with his slender build. But he had a nice physique for a man of his age. Even being on the greater end of sixty years old, he had quite the fan club…especially among the female Palace members.
“Well I would s—”
Sirus cut him off mid-sentence. “Do you know why you have been in this place since the…the events that took place so long ago? I mean, do you really know? You take me as a man of relative intelligence. If you don’t mind me saying, I’ve read over your file.”
“I know what we were told and have been told since we arrived.” Mr. Beneford looked puzzled by the question.
Sirus placed a strong hand on the gentleman’s shoulder and gave him a grin that begged to let him explain a bit more. He sat on the edge of Mr. Beneford’s side of the desk and paused to choose his words carefully.
“Allow me to give a bit more clarity, sir. I’ve been the liaison between the people and the few in government who still control what’s left of the earth. Believe me when I tell you that there are very few government officials still among the living. We are all truly lucky to still be alive, Mr. Beneford. Do you understand?
“There was no precedent set for such a pandemic outside of those from before the twenty-first century. You know the culprits, the Black Death of 1347, American plagues brought into this very country from Europe—we could even go back to the Antonine Plague of 165 AD, which boiled down to nothing more than a plague of smallpox and measles.” Sirus stopped abruptly to think, then he let out a bit of a chuckle.
Mr. Beneford watched Sirus with a befuddled look, seemingly caught off guard by the laughter.
“Forgive me, sir, I do not laugh out of cruelty. Please don’t take it the wrong way. I’m terribly sorry. I get inveterately tickled by that last bit in my soliloquy.” Sirus touched the man’s knee in a joking way that said, Lighten up, buddy.
Mr. Beneford just gave a confused smile and shook his head. “Of course not, sir.”
Sirus, now quiet, continued to study him with his chilling blue eyes. “Good…good.” He went on. “I’m sorry, I laugh at the pure foolishness of these plagues in relation to where we are today as far as sidestepping them with the ease of avoiding a parked car on a brisk walk. All three devastations I named, and many others that wreaked havoc on this earth, are all curable by antibiotics or some other simple method today, but all the same, millions, maybe even billions of souls, have perished due to these types of things over human history.
“Now how is that? I’ll tell you. Even a simple thing can become a troublesome thing if you don’t know how to combat the scenario.” Sirus winked at Mr. Beneford and lightly tapped his shoulder with his fist in a pounding motion.
“To the credit of this country and few others, there were brilliant scientists and government officials who foresaw something of this nature coming and planned accordingly. Again, I won’t bother explaining the science of it all, it’s not as exciting as it may sound, but we did anticipate something happening. Long story short, plans were made in the years leading up to the sickness. There were FEMA camps set up, underground places to live, things like that. Most of which never came into play because of the sheer death toll. This illness went off like an atom bomb all over the planet.”
Sirus put his hands together and moved them away from each other, making the gesture of a bomb blowing up. He mouthed the word BOOM and looked up at the ceiling of the office, as if following the blast radius. Mr. Beneford’s eyes followed. Sirus then placed his hands into his lap and returned his gaze back to Mr. Beneford.
“Herbert Hoover once said, ‘Older men declare war. But it is youth that must fight and die.’ The mistakes of those from the past cost the new generation their lives, their homes, their planet. It’s all so ridiculous, sometimes all you can do is laugh. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Mr. Beneford visibly relaxed his posture. Sirus could tell the poor guy was putting a real effort into trying not to look scared. “Yes, yes, I would agree that it’s all very ironic. You make a great point, sir.”
Sirus got up from his makeshift seat on the edge of the desk and began to walk circles around Mr. Beneford at a slow pace while continuing his dialogue. He truly enjoyed hearing himself speak. He could do this all day. Crowd or not.
“You see, there were very few of the world’s leaders still among the living, which called for the members still in existence to band together for the sake of the survival of all mankind. You would be surprised to see how fast nations that once hated each other come together for the sake of survival. This is important, wouldn’t you agree, sir?” Sirus broke out of his rant to reconnect eye contact, regarding Beneford with a soft, empathetic look. Then he continued to move around the desk again.
“Yes, Sirus, it’s of the utmost importance that life is able to continue.” Mr. Beneford’s eyes followed Sirus and his constant circles around the office, as though he were the predator circling its prey, which was of course Sirus’s intention.
“Good…good. But I ask you, when you say life is able to continue, what do you regard as life, sir?” He again stopped pacing at the opposite end of the desk, behind his own seat, and placed his arms across his chest. Sirus looked deeply at Mr. Beneford, the way a child looks at something he doesn’t quite understand.
“Well, human life, and all life on Planet Earth.”
Sirus nodded his head in agreement and uncrossed his arms. He placed his hands in the pockets of his black dress pants and continued his circles once more.
“The hierarchy in which you gave your answer is important. You are still placing humankind outside of the other lifeforms on this planet. While we are different, mostly based on how our brains function, we are not to place ourselves ahead of or beneath any other form of life here. For we are all one.
“But we have become a cancer here, and Earth is similar to any functioning living form of life in the way that the planet will try to fight off whatever is killing her, same as your body would do if you began to develop a tumor. Do you follow?”
“I do follow you, Sirus. I must admit that I’m now wondering why you are telling me this. Have I offended or done something wrong?” Mr. Beneford looked at Sirus with confusion painted all over his face.
“Please allow me to finish my thought,” Sirus said gently while raising a hand. “We have always fancied ourselves the origin and reason for the existence of all other things, and that’s just not the case. We must all come together and function as one entity. This is what we have been trying to teach everyone in every Palace, in every forgotten country and corner of the world. If we want to get back to living on the outside and living in peace with all of life on this planet, we must change the way we see things. We must retrain our thought processes.”
Sirus conjured his winning smile and sat back down in his seat on his respective side of the imposing desk.
“I understand. I misspoke, sir.”
“Did you? In most cases we say exactly what we mean the first time. Your subconscious will betray you every time, Mr. Beneford,” Sirus replied, almost in a whisper.
“Yes, I misspoke. I’ve been taught better, and my haste to answer your question got the bet—”
“I ask because it’s been brought to my attention that you have been talking about some of the old ways of thinking and behaving,” Sirus said matter-of-factly, smiling even bigger than he h
ad been. “You have been in the Palace since its inception, so I don’t need to explain to you why that’s not a good idea.”
Mr. Beneford looked away nervously.
“I’ve been told that you were speaking about night clubs. A mention of strippers and cocaine? We don’t talk like that here. Those things have no reason to even be mentioned in the Palace. It’s filth, sir…you know that.”
“Oh no, sir, I may have spoken to a few of the older folks in the courtyard—very innocent in nature, I promise. Ya know, just reminiscing about the old days. I’m the first to say that I appreciate everything about the Palace and all the new teachings. I’ve studied all the new literature for twenty years, taking part in every morning enrichment, new and old. I apologize if Teacher Paul regarded my words as troublesome. That’s who the report came from, correct? I did not mean for my words to come off that way, I swear it.” Mr. Beneford’s voice cracked, and tears began welling up in his eyes.
“Calm yourself. It’s not important who the report came from. We hear all and see all. While you may have been speaking to people from the outside like yourself, you do understand there are Palace-born humans everywhere, and they could hear you…and maybe someone did.” Sirus paused for effect, the smile on his face fading.
“I do not mean to verbally discipline you. That is not my job here—all discipline is carried out by authorized security. Nor is this a meeting about discipline or even a bad mark on your file. I’m just making sure that everything is working out for you, making sure that your time here is favorable to yourself and everyone who encounters you. You know what they say about one bad apple.”
Sirus flashed from his cold stare back to the smile like a flip book. That fast.
“You are not that bad apple though. We know this and wanted to express how important it is to have members from the Old World in the Palaces. You have a wealth of knowledge for the Palace-born humans to call upon, and that’s to be respected and cultivated. You have been a model member of this Palace, and that matters to everyone.”
Sirus grabbed Beneford’s folder. “Your informational studies and contributions to the Palace are documented, and there are no negative marks on your record. Very impressive for a twenty-year span, sir. If there’s a man qualified for the Greater Understanding Program, it would be you, Mr. Beneford. And we would like to offer this to you today.” Sirus stood and walked around the desk to shake Mr. Beneford’s hand.
The man before Sirus looked confused, anxious, excited, and terrified all at once. “Oh my, oh shit. Excuse my language, I’m sorry. I’m just so happy. Thank you so much!” He began to bounce up and down in his seat like a child who was just told he gets to go to the fair with his big brothers. Tears fell down his cheeks, and he wiped them with the sleeve of his shirt.
“Thank you so much, Sirus. I’ve been doing my best, trying to help everyone as much as I possibly can, and it’s paid off. I can’t thank you and the Order enough. When do I get to leave? Where am I gonna be stationed at? Oh my God, so many questions, I’m sorry.”
Sirus could read the man at a glance. Being accepted into the Greater Understanding Program for someone who’s been there for twenty years was like being told you get a new chance at life. You died an ugly death, and boom, you get a second shot at it all.
“No need to thank me, sir, you earned this. In this Palace, in every Palace, we keep our word about the Greater Understanding Program. You fit the criteria, and we could use a man like you out in the world, helping to make the environment safe for everyone again. Just make sure you keep that dirty talk to yourself in the future.” Sirus pointed at him jokingly. “You have completed all the training, you have made leaps and bounds with your mental assessments, and you have helped the Palace Program in ways that you couldn’t understand.”
Sirus motioned for Mr. Beneford to stand up before giving the man a hug. Sirus patted his back, then took a step back to look him over. “You have done well, my friend, and fortunately you will be leaving in the next few minutes. A teacher is waiting outside of this office with a protective suit and your belongings from you pod. The protective suit is engineered to protect you from getting sick upon leaving the quarantine area, so he will help you get acclimated to it before you leave.”
Sirus leered at Mr. Beneford sadly. “You will be given your instruction en route to your post. As you’ve been taught before now, we can’t have you go back through the Palace. Obviously this isn’t something that happens often here, and we’ve found that it can upset others to the point that they become severely depressed or even envious. Such an emotional imbalance can interfere with other members’ focus on their own personal goals. As you are well aware, upsetting the balance in such a way does far more harm than good.”
Mr. Beneford nodded furiously. His eyes were dreamy and far away. It was obvious that not saying goodbye didn’t faze him one bit—his yearning for the Greater Understanding was that immense.
“The others will be alerted of your ascension to the Greater Understanding Program, and you will be used as a benchmark of what can happen when you devote yourself to the Palace Program. Thank you, Mr. Beneford. I will show you to the door, and to the man who will take you through security for departure.”
Sirus walked the giddy gentleman of sixty-one years of age to the office door and opened it with one hand. Mr. Beneford, who couldn’t stop smiling, still clutched Sirus’s other hand.
“Again, sir, thank you for your service to this Palace. I know you will do wonderful things in the Greater Understanding Program. I’ve forwarded your name to some of the leaders there, and they will be looking out for you when you arrive. You deserve everything that’s coming to you.”
“Thank you, sir. Thank you so much.” Mr. Beneford rushed to the exit, more than ready to leave the Palace forever. He could be heard still crying and talking as he walked the corridor with Teacher Simon.
Sirus closed the office door on the nineteenth floor of the Palace, located somewhere in old Indiana, in a country formerly known as the United States of America. He walked over to the desk, gave the golden globe a spin, and sat down in his seat. He was about to have dinner with every member of every Palace via live stream. This was a tradition within the Palace; the final meal of the day was not served without the words from Sirus. Traditions should be followed, and followed strictly, so that good habits would not devolve into unpleasant habits. Unhealthy habits brought terrible outcomes.
Chapter Eleven
Jacob
Teacher Paul was presenting the lecture for today’s morning enrichment. He was a small, gaunt, balding man, and looked every year of his late forties. Unlike Jacob, who, at close to the same age had a full head of hair and a strong, fit body, Teacher Paul appeared sickly-looking in comparison. Deep lines sculpted his face, and his eyes seemed to be sinking into their sockets.
There wasn’t a bit of facial hair on Teacher Paul’s withered face. In all the time that he had been at the Palace, he had never even had the growing stages of a beard or mustache. Despite his haggard looks and slumped posture, he was one of the kindest people you would ever meet. He was always willing to help with anything, and he was very patient with the sometimes clueless Palace people. Teacher Paul also conducted the mental evaluations when anyone would have a mental slip or a lapse in judgement.
Jacob always attributed the teacher’s gift of calming to his voice. So smooth and gentle. In the early days of the Palace, Jacob had quite a few “mental evaluations.” Most of the people from the outside world did in the beginning.
Today’s enrichment class covered the topic of “Love and Loss,” as understood by the old ways of thinking about relationships and the loss of those relationships. Not one of Jacob’s favorite topics to tackle. Despite all the years that had passed and all the hours of counseling, he still had not found a way to heal from the trauma of his past, and he had accepted that he never would. Sometimes it was best to not revisit such things.
Out of sight, out of mind, rig
ht? Waiting for the morning enrichment hall to fill up, Jacob spun a black ballpoint pen in his right hand and tapped his foot to an old beat that he had always loved. He couldn’t quite remember the name of the song. “Bling,” or something like that? By that musician guy, Drake? Every year he forgot more and more from the Old World.
Trevor walked into the room and headed for the seat next to Jacob. Since coming to the Palace on day one of the evacuation, Jacob and Trevor had been close. They had both been one inch from insanity, sitting in that van coming from the US Bank Arena. Trevor had been raving about his kids, family members, his wife, and how the government had perpetrated it all. They had to hold him down to ensure everyone’s safety in the white van.
That was long ago though. It felt like a different lifetime. Funny how time worked in that way, turning your real-life episodes into dream-like scenarios that you could hardly materialize into actual memories after a point. Then again, there were those memories that sat right on the surface of Jacob’s psyche, rising up every day regardless of how long ago the experience happened. That Monday in October all those years ago remained that way for him. For everyone here from the outside. They all had that metaphorical patch emblazoned on their jackets. Sure, they could learn coping mechanisms; they could try to fill the holes with sex, socializing, food, fun, and knowledge. Some holes had no bottom though, no matter how you tried to fill it.
When his mother allowed him to stay home from school, they would always watch the Dr. Phil show together. The TV therapist would say something to that extent. “No matter what you put inside of that hole, you will never be able to fill it. This ain’t my first rodeo…” Or something like that.
“Hey there, playboy.” Trevor patted him on the shoulder as he took his seat next to Jacob. The older man relaxed, sticking his right hand in his back pocket. Trevor had always done that. He’d been like that since they got there. Jacob never bothered to ask him why though. Maybe he just didn’t know what to do with his hands.
