Agenda 21

by Glenn Beck

  I reached out to touch his shoulder but he pulled away. “And I hate you,” he said.

  “Eat your food, then go to work.”

  He only ate his cube, then left, slamming the door behind him. After he bicycled away, I opened the door to let more fresh air in. Jeremy’s rancid smell lingered in our space.

  Today would be a good day. Two eggs, two packets of salt, and later, more paper from Mother’s mat. But first, the energy board. I felt like I could walk faster and harder than ever. I finally had a reason. Feet pounding, making the mat turn as I marched in place.

  I turned the energy board off with the needle a little past halfway and went to the open door. For some reason the daytime Gatekeeper was making rounds, pausing at each door. That was unusual and I felt uneasy, so I went back to my board. The sleeping mat with its secrets would have to wait. I knew I would have to be very careful searching in that mat. I would have to resist the urge to rip it open and shake it out to see what else might be hiding in there, because at any time, someone could be making rounds, watching or listening.

  Then he was standing at my doorway. “You didn’t have the early morning awakening today, did you?”

  I shook my head no.

  He made the circle sign and moved on.

  How did he know about my early-morning wakeups? Did the night-shift Gatekeeper tell him? Do they keep reports in folders somewhere? I closed the door and went back to walk my board. My hands were sweating and the metal sidebars were wet.

  Sometime later, while I was still walking, I thought I heard someone calling my name.

  “Emmeline. Emmeline.”

  There it was again, a man’s voice.

  I stopped my board, went to the door, and opened it.

  No one was there. I went to the right window slit. No one. Left window slit. No one. Back window slit, the one that faced the fence. There was John, from the Transport Team, on the other side of the fence, under a tree. He reminded me of Father—same age, same big muscles—and the feeling you got that this man could take care of you. Protect you until he couldn’t anymore. Like Father did. Like George did. As long as they could until . . .

  “John?”

  “Yes, it’s me. I promised I would find out about your baby. And I did.”

  “What about my baby?” I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My legs were trembling. What if something happened to her?

  “She’s fine, Emmeline. She’s healthy. Her name is Elsa.”

  “Elsa? But that was Mother’s name. How did she get named Elsa?”

  “My wife works at the Village. She knew your Mother, so she named your baby after her. I’ve got to go. I’ll give you updates when I can. It’s dangerous but important. Family is important.”

  “How did you get outside the fence? Away from the Transport Team?”

  “Don’t ask. I don’t have time to explain that now.”

  Then he turned toward the shadows of the trees.

  “Don’t go,” I called. “Please don’t—” But he was gone. “Thank you, John, thank you,” I whispered toward the trees, into the shadows.

  Back to the board. With each footstep walking in rhythm to El-sa, El-sa, El-sa.

  Tonight was a Social Update Meeting. The only bad thing about today was tonight. And the odd question about early morning awakenings from the Gatekeeper.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The Gatekeeper hung the official flag on the pole above the green flag of our Compound to signal that it was time to start walking to the Social Update Meeting. It was large and black, emblazoned with a brilliant blue-and-green Earth in the center. I wondered if the Earth was really that beautiful or if the flag was a lie. I saw none of its beauty inside our fenced Compound, and most often, the flag hung limp so that the globe folded in upon itself. Then he rang the bell, a clanging sound that was impossible to ignore.

  “It’s time to go, Jeremy,” I said, tying on my headscarf.

  “I don’t want to,” he mumbled. He had been on his sleeping mat since eating his nourishment cube.

  “You don’t have a choice. Come on, now.”

  “I’m tired.” He did not look well. “And my stomach hurts.”

  “I know you’re tired. But you have to go. These are not optional.”

  “Why do I have to go? In the Village they did Social Updates and we didn’t have to walk anywhere. They came to us. They took care of us.”

  “Jeremy, in the Compounds, you have to do what they monitor. And they monitor attendance. So come on.” I tapped his shoulder and thought I was starting to sound like Mother. The feeling of missing her washed over me. Such a hopeless feeling, like dead weight.

  “What will happen if I don’t go?”

  His question startled me.

  Don’t fight them. Do whatever they ask. Lay quietly. Let them examine you. That’s what Father had told me. I should have asked him what would happen if I had fought them. But he had seemed so frightened that I had been scared as well. Too scared to ask any questions. If only I hadn’t been so young, too young to pick up on clues, push for answers. That was then, this was now. Now I knew they had the power to take Mother away.

  “I don’t know. Just come.” I was getting tired of coaxing him.

  “I won’t know what to do.”

  “Didn’t they teach you at the Village?”

  “We never went to an Update Meeting. We just sat in the classrooms. And the teachers talked. That’s all.”

  “Did you pay attention?”

  He didn’t answer me. That was answer enough.

  “Follow me. Do what I do. Okay?”

  He nodded, got up reluctantly, and we walked to the gate. The Gatekeeper checked our names off a list that was written on a broad swath of creamy paper.

  Pairs from our Compound and the others within our Planned Community had already left their Living Spaces and walked ahead of us toward the Central Stage. We were all wearing the colors assigned to us.

  The closer we got to the Central Stage, the more people converged in their assigned areas. Assembled in stalls cordoned off with rope at the base of the Central Stage, we were all defined by our singular purpose, all wearing uniforms the colors of our Compounds. A rainbow that had been pulled apart was reuniting. The Nourishment Cube Makers wore uniforms the color of egg yolks. Ahead of us, the Uniform Makers in deep brown. And to one side, the bright orange of the Transport Team contrasted with black of the Enforcers. The gray of the Gatekeepers, the vibrant green of the Managers of Nature. Other Compounds, other colors. Ours were the dullest of all. The groups stood together, but divided, as commingling of the Compounds wasn’t allowed. The only exceptions were the Children’s Village workers, who worked shifts at the Village but lived in their partner’s Compound. The peaceful and flowery colors of their pastel uniforms were sprinkled throughout the gathering.

  And finally, escorted onto the stage by Enforcers, the two Central Authority Figures lined up in a perfect front, their black uniforms trimmed with gold at the collar, at the cuffs, along the shoulder seams. The color of power.

  Everyone was quiet. The only sound was the shuffling of feet as people moved into position. The occasional cough. The groups fanned out before the Authority Figures like the tail of a peacock.

  Two Enforcers remained on the stage; the others joined their Compound. A hush fell over the crowd as we waited for the rituals.

  The tallest of the Authority Figures moved to the front of the stage.

  He made the circle sign. We did the same.

  “Praise be to the Republic.” His voice boomed loud, vibrant, almost with an echo.

  “Praise be to the Republic,” we all responded, making the circle sign.

  “Praise be to the Earth we serve.”

  “Praise be to the Earth we serve.” Again the circle sign. Jeremy watched me for clues. He was pale and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

  “Praise be to the animals.”

  Praise, repeat, praise, repeat.

  I saw John,
over to my right, in the bright orange of the Transport Compound. He was smiling at me. Next to him was a woman in pink.

  Was she the one who’d named Elsa?

  She smiled at me, too.

  “I pledge to produce more than I consume.”

  “I pledge to produce more than I consume.” Monotone.

  Jeremy fidgeted. “Be still,” I whispered. “Or I will pinch you.”

  The second Authority Figure moved forward on the stage.

  “I bring you news of our Republic.”

  “Praise be to the news of our Republic,” we murmured.

  “In the name of our Republic, I have the following news,” he said. “First, our birthrate is not keeping pace with our enemies’.”

  A collective sigh of sorrow flowed across the group.

  “We have had some good births. Some good, healthy births. But not enough to compete with our enemies. Fertile women and their partners in our Republic will undergo more reproductive-ability testing in the near future. Failure to reproduce is failure to the Republic.”

  I glanced again at John and the woman in pink. I had to find a way to talk to her. She may have actually held my little Elsa. She may have kissed her forehead.

  “The second announcement.”

  I’d learned from so many Social Update Meetings that when they spoke of “news” it would be about something far away, like other republics or wars being fought somewhere else. But “announcements” were always about changes in the rules for living in this Republic. And changes were never good.

  “The Central Authority has determined we must increase our energy production to compete with other republics. Other republics are growing larger armies than ours. We have news of increased strength in other republics. We must produce more energy.”

  I felt tired and drained listening to this man dressed in black, trimmed in gold, demanding we produce more energy.

  “The friction on energy bicycles will be increased, starting tomorrow.”

  I heard Jeremy groan.

  “The energy board requirements will be increased tomorrow, as well.”

  A collective hiss went around the Compounds. Stifled, but palpable.

  “Indicate your understanding.” His voice was loud, angry.

  “We understand.” The response was muted.

  “Verify your participation.” Again, loud and angry.

  “We verify our participation.” The response a little louder.

  “All Citizens will be issued energy collection cells and thigh straps. The cells will store energy generated by your movements.”

  People glanced sideways at each other, confused.

  “The collection cells are to be worn on your right thigh from dawn to dusk and downloaded each night into the download bars.”

  An Enforcer stepped forward on the stage and demonstrated fastening the energy cell on his thigh. People strained and stretched their necks to watch. Some stood on tiptoes, their hands on their partner’s shoulders for balance.

  “The cells will be placed in your nourishment boxes tomorrow. Praise be to the Republic.”

  “Praise be to the Republic.” All around me came the rustling of cloth as hands were raised to foreheads to make the circle sign.

  The meeting droned on and on. Statistics on current crops: Corn at only 90 percent of last year’s crop. Root vegetables not yet harvested. Blight on 20 percent of apple trees. The Managers of Nature will handle the feeding of animals and any crop surplus. Statistics on the health of the forest: new seedlings planted to replace storm-damaged hardwoods. Statistics on the health of animals: wolves were reproducing well. Given supplemental feedings. More feeding stations placed in the woods.

  My mind wandered. I looked over at the lady in pink. She nodded at me. I nodded back, ever so slightly.

  Then I heard the Authority Figure say, “It has been reported that some in the Compounds have been experiencing early morning awakenings. This is a sign of depression and is of deep concern to the Central Authority. A depressed subject is not a productive subject. You are all reminded to respect the night darkness given to us by the Earth and remain on your sleeping mats until the half-hour warning bell of dawn.”

  Again, people gave each other sideways glances.

  Jeremy shuffled his feet, nervously.

  “Verify your understanding.”

  “We verify our understanding.”

  “We will close now with our Pledge of Dedication.”

  It was the same numbing cadence of words that I had heard for as long as I could remember people gathering to recite it:

  We pledge our allegiance

  To the wisdom of the Central Authority.

  We pledge our dedication

  To the Earth and to its preservation.

  The Enforcers escorted the Authority Figures off the stage. They entered their decorated bus-box. It had high sides and a roof, unlike the common bus-boxes. It was painted glossy black and bore the blue-and-green globe on its side.

  We were free to leave and obligated to return directly to our Compounds. I searched for John and his wife, but they had already disappeared. I tried pushing forward, but everyone was walking in the other direction, and the crowd pushed back. Jeremy tugged on my sleeve.

  “Where are you going? What are you doing?”

  I wouldn’t be able to find her. Not tonight. But somehow, someday, I would.

  “Never mind, Jeremy. Let’s go home.”

  The day-shift Gatekeeper checked a box on his paper list as we filed back into our Compound.

  Who, I wondered, reported my early morning awakenings to the Central Authority? And why?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I slept poorly that night. I wanted to pull the picture of Mother and me from my sleeping mat but it was too dark, and besides, Jeremy was tossing and turning on his mat. I would have to wait for morning when he left for Re-Cy. I’d have to be more careful around the day-shift Gatekeeper. Wait. Watch. Worry.

  Through the window slit I heard the night-shift Gatekeeper opening and closing the nourishment boxes outside the Living Spaces doors. As he got closer to ours, the sounds got a little louder. After he closed the lid to our box, I heard him whisper, “One egg, just for you. I wasn’t able to barter for an extra egg this time.”

  I grabbed my headscarf and put it on. Dawn had begun bleeding pale colors of daylight above the trees and into the window slits. I went outside to the nourishment box and there, indeed, were two breakfast cubes, two water rations, and one egg with one packet of salt. Plus two energy cells with thigh straps.

  When I reached into the box, I saw him standing in the shadow at the outside corner of our Living Space. Startled, I dropped everything back into the box.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered.

  I kept my eyes down. I didn’t want to look at him.

  “You remind me of someone. She was about your age. You probably don’t remember, but you used to play with her. Back at the farm. She liked hard-boiled eggs. She died when the illness came here, and I miss her.”

  He started to walk away.

  “Wait,” I said. “Who was she?”

  He turned to face me. He was much taller than me. His shoulders were broad, his hips narrow. He looked, I don’t know . . . he looked solid. A person of substance.

  “My sister.”

  I wanted to say, “I’m sorry for your loss,” maybe reach out and touch his hand. But I was stuck in place, and my hands were sweating even though it was a cool morning.

  “Did you report me?”

  “What?” He looked surprised.

  “Did you report me?”

  “Report you for what?”

  “Early morning awakenings.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “I don’t know. Someone did.”

  “It wasn’t me. I wouldn’t do that,” he whispered. And he continued his rounds.

  “Thank you for the egg,” I said and went back inside. Jeremy was stirring on his sl
eeping mat. As he rose and fumbled about his morning tasks, he grumbled that his mat was too hard, that his cube was too dry, and that he didn’t want to go to work. I handed him his new energy cell, the thigh straps dangling.

  He stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips, facing me. “I thought you weren’t allowed early morning awakenings. If I have to follow the rules, so do you. Don’t think you’re someone special. You’re not. You’re just home-raised stupid.” Then he got on his energy bicycle. He hadn’t put on his new energy cell. As he pushed off on his energy bicycle, he said over his shoulder, “So there.”

  The machine must have been harder to pedal today; he seemed to be struggling to force the pedals through their rotation and he wobbled through the gate. But I didn’t feel sorry for him. I felt afraid. For him or of him, I wasn’t sure which.

  I ate my egg first, taking little bites to make it last longer. I ate the white part, smooth and cold, then the golden, crumbly yolk. When it was gone, I licked my fingers, savoring the yolk crumbs and salt.

  Time to get dressed. I pulled the green sleeping shirt over my head, tossed it onto my mat, and quickly donned my ugly green uniform pants and top. I strapped the energy cell onto my right thigh as the Enforcer had demonstrated. It was tight and my pant leg puckered under the strap.

  Then to the energy board. Later, the sleeping mat with its hidden secrets.

  It took longer to get the meter to halfway. I don’t know how they change the requirements during the night, but somehow they did. They have the power to change things. As they choose. As they decide.

  I wanted to get off the energy board and go sit in the sun. I wanted to hold Elsa. That was all that mattered to me.

  When I was finally able to take a break, I went to the door. The day-shift Gatekeeper was at his post. I pulled the mat to a corner of the sleeping area and carefully turned it over. I pulled out the picture first. Reaching through the torn opening, I could feel something else. It was slippery. I slowly pulled it through the tear. It was a little plastic bag with stiff cards inside. It had a kind of zipper closing. I opened it and, one by one, I pulled the cards out and turned them over.