by David Beers
And now, the True Faith had the greatest cities in the world, bar none.
Raylyn’s transport hovered underneath the Prevention Division’s overhang. The building itself was nondescript, with no signs announcing the division’s name. People’s nanotech couldn’t even connect with it. If you didn’t already know what resided inside, you wouldn’t find out, and that’s what the Priesthood wanted.
Raylyn agreed. Their work here had to be done in secret because the ones they chased also operated in the shadows.
The transport’s door opened, and Raylyn stepped onto the building’s platform. She looked down and saw other transports zipping around beneath her. She stared past them to the construction taking place miles below. The Priesthood was constantly looking to expand, finding new technologies that helped them move closer to the Earth’s core. Raylyn imagined the other Ministries hated it, and thought one day it might cause another war, but she more or less welcomed that. It would be another opportunity to spread Corinth’s glory.
The platform pulled her into the building and she walked through the halls to her office. As she entered, the office’s nanotech responded to her own.
Raylyn moved toward her desk and a holographic screen shot down from the ceiling, following beside her face. She paid it no mind until she sat down, and then it spun around in front of her.
Lynda was first up on the schedule.
They were going to talk about the informant.
Send her in when she arrives, Raylyn told her nanotech.
Raylyn was unsure about this new informant. Her branch inside the Prevention Division received tips from time to time, but most of them were overzealous believers. Perhaps someone hadn’t given thanks as hard as their neighbor liked, and suddenly, the neighbor was sure they were a separatist, starting some sort of religious cult. In more than 98% of the tips they received, that was the case.
There were the flat out crazies, though. People who honestly believed they were in contact with other gods. The Prevention Division also caught those trying to convert to another Ministry. Every once in a while, they even found people trying to set up their own Ministry—one dedicated to themselves. To Raylyn and the Priesthood, the last two categories were the most dangerous. The True Faith couldn’t have people exiting in mass numbers, nor could they have miniature religions inside their own. Only Corinth reigned here, and that was as it should be.
This informant, though … Lynda had brought Raylyn the message earlier in the week, and she hadn’t liked it. She didn’t trust the informant. Just their implication was punishable—without even the act needing be committed—and that sent Raylyn down paths she didn’t want to travel.
Lynda Minson will arrive in your office in 30 seconds, Raylyn’s nanotech told her.
The screen in front of her faded away, and Raylyn listened as Lynda moved down the hallway.
Lynda paused as she entered the doorway, looking at the floor. “We give thanks.”
“We give thanks,” Raylyn said, her eyes down as well.
Lynda looked up and walked inside.
“I just heard last night. The informant wants to meet today,” Lynda said. Using her nanoparticles, she brought a chair across the room to Raylyn’s desk. “Do you want to be there?”
“I don’t want to be,” she said, “but I’m going to be involved with anything concerning this person.” The screen appeared in front of Raylyn’s face again, partially interrupting her view of Lynda. It quickly moved to the side and stretched out further so that they both could see it. “I want to talk about what you think. I’ve got your report. I read it.” The document flashed up on the screen. “What this person is saying … it’s not something I’m going to take lightly.”
“I know,” Lynda said.
“Do they know that? What did you tell them?”
“That if this was a lie, the PD would use all of its resources to find them. I said they’d face the Priesthood over it.”
“Good,” Raylyn said. “I don’t want to entertain rumors, and I’m not going to play with whoever is reporting it. They need to know that.”
“Yes, Sister,” Lynda said.
“Now, what do you think? You’re the one they contacted.”
“Can I be honest?”
“Of course,” Raylyn said.
“I’m terrified.”
Raylyn nodded, understanding that reaction well. “I am too.”
Neither needed to say the reason why.
“The Priesthood. Do we tell them?” Lynda asked.
“If we think it’s legitimate, then yes, of course. If not, we’ll alert them when we’ve caught the informant, and the Priesthood can dole out whatever punishment they deem appropriate.”
The Prevention Division of the Priesthood was one of many, many Divisions. The Priesthood understood optics and had purposefully named it such; calling it something along the lines of Heretical Division would have felt a bit too much like propaganda. The Prevention Division designation adequately described what the unit did, but without heaping undue praise on the Priesthood.
All praise was reserved for Corinth, and that was good. It was right.
The Prevention Division had many avenues in which the Ministry’s citizens could contact it, but the most common was nanotech. It was simply the easiest.
“The informant is masking their nanoID,” Lynda said. “I put it in my report, but just wanted to remind you.”
Raylyn nodded, looking at the holographic screen sitting in front of them. The two had opened the connection early, though it was now the middle of the day—as one hour stretched into two, both wondered if the informant would show at all.
“When did you arrange this?” Raylyn asked.
“They sent me a message last night.”
“Telling you this time?”
“Yes, Sister,” Lynda said.
Raylyn was quiet, waiting. She’d already placed her opening message on the screen—We give thanks. As soon as the informant’s nanoparticles connected, they’d see it. Raylyn figured they would ignore it, as well as the appropriate response. If what the informant spoke true, then they were too far gone to ever give thanks again. They had probably already lived a lifetime of lies.
Another 10 minutes passed, and finally, more words populated the screen.
He knows.
Ignored, just like Raylyn thought.
She looked to Lynda, nodding, letting her know to begin.
My supervisor is here with me. Division Director Raylyn Brinson. We’ll both be conducting the interview.
He knows, the screen repeated.
Who? Raylyn asked.
Him. The person leading a revolution that you’ve managed to not see for 20 years.
Usually, one could tell someone’s tone when using nanotech, but the informant’s mask hid their emotions—however, Raylyn needed no tone for that message.
How does he know? Lynda said.
Because he knows everything. Because he’s always known everything. Because he’s connected to It. Because he’s the Prophet.
Lynda looked to Raylyn. “I want you to hear what they told me, for yourself, okay?”
“That’s fine.”
Will you tell the Director what you’ve already told me?
The words appeared on the holograph as the stranger thought them.
You people are incompetent. It’s no wonder he’s going to win. I’m surprised you were able to stop us before. Maybe the species is growing dumber or maybe he’s just that powerful. I’ll repeat it, although you’re wasting time. The man I follow, the man I’ve followed for the past 20 years, is the harbinger of what the Priesthood calls the Black. We call it the Unformed. I am part of those you think as the Damned. We call ourselves Touched. You call him a weapon. We call him the Prophet.
What’s the man’s name? Raylyn asked. The one you follow.
No. I’m not giving you that yet. There are things I want first, and let me tell you, Sister, you better start moving fast, because n
ow that he knows, my time on Earth is limited.
Raylyn didn’t need unmasked nanoparticles to feel the sarcasm dripping from ‘Sister’.
What do you want?
What do you think I want? I want the people that follow him given quarter. I want safe passage for myself, both away from him and then to another Ministry. The Old World.
And when do we get his name? Raylyn asked.
When I’m in the Old World.
No. Not happening. We get his name first. The Priesthood will give you signed agreements granting free migration once the subject is apprehended, Raylyn responded.
You’re so lost and you don’t even know it. The world around you is going to burn. Everyone you know is going to die screaming, and you’re sitting here arguing with me about timing. I’m doing this for your sake, not mine. If I stayed, I would have rode with the Unformed. Not at Its right or left hand, but I would have been there. I’m doing this to save you.
Raylyn licked her lips and remained silent. If this wasn’t a hoax, then people were going to die. The Ministries had managed to defeat the Black before … but the death toll had been …
Catastrophic.
“I have to go to the Priesthood,” Raylyn said to Lynda, though not turning from the holograph. “I can’t make any decisions without first talking to them. Not about this. It’s too important.”
We’ll get back to you, she messaged. Keep this connection open.
When will I hear from you? I’m in danger now.
Soon. Two days at the most, Raylyn said.
And if I’m dead?
Then I guess you should have had a bit more faith in Corinth.
Raylyn closed the connection and the holograph dissipated into the air. She sighed, knowing she shouldn’t have said the last. Angering an informant wasn’t a smart move. “See if you can follow up with them. I’ve got to get a message to the Priesthood.”
“The First Council?” Lynda asked.
“If I can, yes.”
One hour until courtship, Raylyn’s nanotech said.
“Damn it.”
“I just got my reminder, too,” Lynda said.
Raylyn had forgotten. She always forgot, every single time courtship arrived. And now? During this? There wasn’t any way to skip it, though—not for the moment. Raylyn knew the expectations. You didn’t skip courtship, regardless the circumstances. You moved everything else around courtship.
Was an hour even enough time to get there?
“Depending on this informant, I might ask for courtship exemption,” Raylyn said. “One for the whole Division, actually.”
“The whole Division isn’t single,” Lynda said. “I doubt more than ten percent is.”
“Alright. I think mine is scheduled for two or three—”
Two and a half hours, her nanotech reminded her.
“—hours. I probably won’t come back tonight, but I’ll be here early tomorrow. I’ll get the messages out on the way to courtship, and hopefully we’ll have responses by the morning.”
“I’ll be early,” Lynda said. “I don’t think my courtship is going to work out. We’re scheduled for two hours, but if it goes one, I’ll be surprised.”
“I love Corinth and the Priesthood, but this is the one part I can’t stand.”
“Me either, but it’s necessary.”
“I know,” Raylyn said.
Raylyn’s transport hovered over the landing area. The flight had been an hour long, and she’d worked the entire time. The flights would continue getting longer and longer, too, if her courtships kept failing. Lynda had been right—this was necessary, but absolutely the least enjoyable parts of Raylyn’s month.
Her courtships were twice a month now, and next year, unless a miracle happened and Raylyn married, she’d have to go three times. If Raylyn cared what her family or friends thought, she’d be embarrassed … but their opinions didn’t matter. She’d been denied Priesthood early in life (the Priesthood always kept the reasons why from parents and children); yet, she considered her job a service in the same vein. She might not be able to worship at Corinth’s feet all day, or divine what He wanted, but she kept the barbarians from reaching the gate, and that was something.
It was important.
Courtship got in the way of that.
Lynda’s right. This is important too, she thought, trying to convince herself of its utility. No, that wasn’t exactly true. Raylyn understood the utility in the same way she understood that if she went above ground, she’d die. She understood it from a logical viewpoint, but just as she hadn’t ever stepped above ground to find her skin melting off her body, she’d never been in love either.
And this was her 10th year of courtship.
It was mandatory. Forced dating, and something that Corinth created when He first began anew under the Earth. The only way to continue the faith was by ensuring men and women procreated.
So, depending on your age and egg viability (for females), you were given a courtship schedule. And, as you grew older, the schedule’s intensity picked up. Hence, twice a month for Raylyn.
Three times, if you don’t find someone, she thought. It could be worse, though. You could live inside the Constant. No forced courtship there. Just forced marriage.
The transport still hovered 500 feet above the platform, and Raylyn finally shut off her screen. She looked down and saw her date, Manor Reinheld, waiting below. He was looking up at her transport, unable to see in, but obviously waiting for her to descend.
How long has he been standing there?
Raylyn didn’t know, because she hadn’t cared to look down since she arrived.
She sighed.
Go on, Raylyn told the transport.
It slowly lowered, moving straight down, and Manor’s face came into view. The transport’s door opened in front of him. Raylyn stood and stepped from it.
“We give thanks,” Manor said, eyes down.
“We give thanks,” Raylyn answered.
They both looked up and Manor smiled. “Hi. I was wondering if you thought you were at the wrong place.”
“No,” she said, giving him a smile too. He wasn’t a bad guy. He hadn’t bothered her while she was working above; he’d simply waited. “I was just finishing up something.”
He looked nice, better than she did—but that was always the case with him. Raylyn came because she had to; Manor came because he wanted to.
He was a little younger than her, 29, and they’d been courting for the past three months. Usually, people cried off from further courting after the first month—at least with Raylyn—but so far, he was still here, and so was she.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“I could eat,” she said.
He took her hand as the transport rose into the air behind them, heading to dock while Raylyn performed her duty for Corinth.
“How’s work going for you?” Manor asked.
They’d been scheduled for 2.5 hours, but they were now on their 4th.
You either like him, or you like the wine, Raylyn thought. Maybe both.
The restaurant’s wine was some of the best in all of the True Faith. The restaurant actually possessed their own winery at the bottom of the building, having installed a miniature SkyLight at what was probably a tremendous cost.
Regardless, Raylyn was glad for it.
“Work is … interesting,” she said.
“We never talk about your job, but we spend hours on mine. The Prevention Division can’t be that secretive.”
“It’s not. We don’t hide anything. We publish all detainments, as well as any other violations,” she said.
“Then why don’t you ever want to talk about it?”
Raylyn smiled. “Because, one day I might have to detain you, and I don’t need you knowing all of our secrets.”
Manor laughed. “Is that the case? Think I don’t give thanks to Corinth?”
“No, no,” she said. Raylyn might have been tipsy, but not so much that she’
d start insulting the man’s faith. “I don’t know. Most people don’t want to talk about my work.”
“Why not?”
“I think it scares them,” Raylyn said.
“Go on.”
“No. Let’s talk about something else.”
Manor smiled. “I want to hear. Why do you think it scares them?”
“Because people don’t want to consider there’s a constant threat to destroy our society, to destroy everything we believe in.”
“There’s always been terrorism,” Manor said.
“I don’t fight terrorism. Terrorism is using violence to achieve political ends. None of the people I detain want to use violence. They’re using belief, and that’s much more dangerous. You’re not going to convince anyone that Corinth isn’t the Holy by killing a few thousand people. You might be able to, though, if you make them think something or someone else loves them more.”
Manor looked into his glass of wine and swirled the red liquid around.
“So, you think people don’t like discussing it because they’re scared their faith might falter?”
“No,” Raylyn said, her voice rising at the suggestion. She quickly got ahold of herself and briefly looked around the restaurant, wanting to see if anyone else had heard her slight outburst. Everyone seemed to be going about their business. She looked back at Manor, and lowering her voice, said, “No. That’s not what I mean. No one is scared their faith might be challenged. No one who truly believes anyway, which I assume most people do—”
“Because you do,” Manor interrupted.
“What’s that mean?”
Raylyn hadn’t heard this side of him before. Their previous courtships had been … more surface level.
“It means your faith won’t break, so you project that on everyone else.”
Raylyn brought her glass to her lips, but paused and looked in. She hadn’t thought of it like that. Manor was right; her faith was unshakeable, but was she putting that on the people around her?
“I don’t know,” she said, then took a sip. She placed the glass on the table and looked to her courter. “No. I’m not projecting. People love Corinth, and I don’t think that because I love Him. They love Him because of what He’s done for us. Of what He continues to do for us.”