Time Next

by Carolyn Cohagan

  I sit with my hands in my lap, staring straight ahead. I’m freezing in my green jeans and thin green blouse. A sign on the wall says, “Savor His Blessings.” I read it over and over, until the words become gibberish.

  Time goes slowly. Bithia and Gilad don’t even speak to each other.

  Finally, Marjory, for no reason I can observe, says, “You can go in now.” The handleless door on our left swings open on its own.

  The three of us rise.

  Marjory says, “He just wants Mina.”

  Bithia and Gilad look at each other in surprise.

  “He was quite clear,” Marjory says. “You’re free to wait.”

  They sit back down, clearly irritated.

  I head for the open door, not sure if I’m relieved or frightened to be free of them.

  Inside the office, Ram sits on the floor wearing the same white pajamas as the last time I saw him. His brown hair looks more tightly curled. He sits on the floor with his legs spread in a V. All over the rug are hundreds of little pieces of wood in weird shapes.

  After a moment, he looks up and says, “Aren’t you going to say ‘hello?’”

  Embarrassed, I whisper, “I was waiting for you to speak first.”

  “Of course you were. I’m sorry! Women don’t have to wait for men to speak here.” He shakes his head at the ridiculous notion. “Please join me.”

  I don’t see any chairs, so I sit next to him on the floor. Without warning, a huge yellow dog leaps out of the corner, knocking me over. She licks my face and ears until I think I might drown.

  “No! Jezzy, down!” Ram cries, leaning forward to pull her off me. He manages to subdue her but only barely. I can’t imagine Ram weighs much more than she does. “So sorry. This is Jezebel. She’s a total princess and also the devil, right Jezzy?” He sticks his face in her neck and kisses her fur. “Get in your bed! Go on. Bed!”

  Jezzy looks at him with soulful brown eyes, slowly turns around, and lopes to a much-chewed-on dog bed in the corner.

  “Do you like dogs?” Ram asks.

  Not a lot of people keep dogs as pets on the island. They’re too expensive to feed. Cats keep away mice and rats and feed themselves. “I don’t know,” I say. “Jezzy seems nice.”

  Ram laughs. “Jezzy has horrible manners and old-cod breath. But you’re sweet.”

  I smile, almost forgetting that I’m in trouble.

  Ram’s office is very odd. Where the reception area was pristine and white, this room is cluttered and every color of the rainbow. A desk is piled sky-high with books, papers and a stuffed bear. Shelves are full of books, knickknacks and what appears to be bags of candy. The walls are covered from floor to ceiling with photographs of people––families smiling and waving, their arms around Ram as if he were their favorite son or brother. Most bizarre of all, an enormous white wheel sits in the corner of the room. It’s taller than any man I know and looks like the tire of a giant car.

  Concentrating once again on the wood pieces on the floor, Ram says, “This is what people used to call a ‘puzzle.’” He connects one piece to another. Holding up the top part of a box, he says, “This one is called ‘Wicker Kittens.’” He shows me the picture. “See? It’s cats in a basket!”

  “What’s the point?” I ask. I just want to get my punishment over with. Why is he toying with me?

  “The point?” he says, confused. “Recreation, I suppose.” He inspects the pieces, fitting two more together. “I confess, I find it very relaxing.”

  This is why we were waiting all this time? So he could put together a picture of kittens?

  “Do people work in this town?” I exclaim without thinking.

  He looks up, startled. Then he grins. “Our way of life must seem very odd to you.”

  “Everyone seems to sit around eating all the time,” I say.

  Who’s growing the food? Who’s transporting the water? Who’s driving the taxis and busses?

  He laughs. “Yes, it must seem that way. But we actually work very hard. And we all have the same job.”

  I wait for him to tell me what it is.

  “But let’s talk about that another time. This morning we’re here to talk about you and a little incident that happened last night.”

  I become very interested in the wheel in the corner.

  “That’s my desk,” he says.

  When I look at him with bafflement, he stands and crosses the room. “I don’t like sitting still.” Stepping inside the wheel, he begins to walk. Screens appear around him. “It’s one hundred percent human powered. Very efficient. Neat, huh?”

  I nod.

  When he stops walking, the screens disappear.

  “Let’s get comfortable,” he says, stepping down. He goes to the corner and plops down in what looks like a gigantic red nest. He points to a blue version against the wall. “It’s a ‘beanbag,’ and you’ll love it.”

  Rising, I approach the big blob and descend awkwardly. I’m surprised to find it is soft and conforming to the shape of my body. Not bad.

  “Why are you called the Unbound?” I ask, hoping to keep him distracted.

  “We’re not attached to earthly pleasures. We’re ready to rise quickly and easily to the Lord’s kingdom.” He frowns. “So you tried to see your friends last night, but it didn’t go very well, right?”

  Silas has probably told everyone everything at this point.

  “The Dixons are very upset,” he adds. “Poor Silas has fractured his wrist.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say. And I am. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.

  “He says it was his idea to sneak out of the house. Is that true?”

  It is true, but poor Silas already has a broken wrist. What else will he suffer if he takes the blame for our misconduct?

  “Tell the truth, Mina. I’ll know if you’re lying.” Ram looks into my face, and something about his strange gray eyes makes me believe him. He will know.

  “Yes. It was Silas’ idea.” I feel bad being disloyal to Silas, but I feel good about being honest.

  “Wonderful. Everyone agrees on the story.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe kids are still using Smokers. We had those when I was a teenager.”

  “Is he in terrible trouble?”

  He looks at me like I’m not as bright as he thought. “Shouldn’t you be worried that you are in terrible trouble?”

  I shrink into the beanbag chair. I’m not used to this. If I’m in trouble, why is he being so friendly?

  Wiggling out of his beanbag, Ram walks to a shelf and picks up a box similar in shape and size to the puzzle box. He hands it to me. “This is for you.”

  I don’t take it. “Does it have to do with my punishment?”

  “Yes and no,” he says.

  When he sits back down, Jezebel rushes over and puts her head in his lap. He strokes her ears as he waits for me to open the box.

  The logical part of me says there can’t be anything in this box that can hurt me, but I’m still wary.

  “Go on,” Ram says.

  When I don’t think I can put it off any longer, I take the top off the box. I move aside pink tissue paper to find a beautiful white dress.

  “I don’t understand,” I say. My punishment is new clothes? Holding up the dress, I see delicate lace cutouts around the shoulders and hem.

  Ram laughs. “I love your face right now! I should have taken a picture.”

  I try to smile, but I don’t understand the joke.

  “Sweet Mina, this is an exciting day!” He stands and comes to sit on the floor by my beanbag. “I know you’ve noticed the clothes we wear, the colors. You must’ve been wondering what it all means.”

  “I guess I––”

  “It’s all very simple. When we’re born, we’re innocent, sweet little babies, and we have no sin. Life is very straightforward––eat, sleep, poop––that’s it. And that phase lasts a long time. We put our children in white to represent that innocence, that precious period. It’s a
time to savor. Life becomes more complicated when we reach adolescence. Our thoughts become less pure. We are tempted to defy our parents, to question the society around us. This is why children going through puberty wear green, to signify growth.”

  The green I am wearing right now, the color that Tabby and her friends despise, is the color of adolescence?

  “Next there is yellow, red, purple, blue, black, gray. Each level becomes harder to achieve, requiring a spiritual and inner awareness that tests your morality and sincerity. And if you work very, very hard, one day you can achieve the highest level, which is white.”

  “I thought the beginning level was white,” I say.

  “Yes! It is every man and woman’s goal to return to the state of innocence and lightness of their birth.” Ram is very joyful as he says this. “Today is an important day because you’ll be consecrated as a ‘Day One White,’ like a newborn baby girl. All your sins will be washed away, and you’ll start fresh. I can’t imagine the lightness you’ll feel.”

  He gazes at me with complete delight.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  I am grateful if this gift means I won’t endure any punishment.

  “You are so, so welcome,” he says.

  Jezzy sniffs at the new dress, then returns to Ram.

  “Mina, what do you want?” Ram asks. “And don’t say that you want to see your friends. I know that. I mean, what do you really want, in your life?”

  His question throws me off guard. I take a full minute to think about my answer, then say, “I want to be safe.”

  He frowns. “You are safe. You couldn’t be safer. This is the problem with life in Manhattan: a girl’s life shouldn’t only be about ‘staying safe.’ That’s a crime. What do you want to be? What do you want to do? Do you want a husband? A family? A calling?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, and it’s true. People tried to force me to have a husband and family before I was ready, and now those things seem like shackles.

  “I’ve been told that you can read,” he says.

  Shaken, I almost drop my box. Dekker. Dekker must’ve told them. Grace and Juda never would’ve betrayed me.

  “Congratulations,” says Ram. “It’s an extraordinary accomplishment when you’re living in such dire circumstances.”

  I don’t move. I let my face betray nothing.

  “You might be interested to know that when you reach the level of green, you’ll be allowed to attend school.”

  The Dixons haven’t mentioned school.

  “The new session starts in four weeks. Boys and girls attend. We teach reading, writing, history, math, science . . . Are you smiling, Mina?”

  I hadn’t realized I was. “Won’t I be behind?”

  “I’m sure the Dixons could arrange for a tutor if—”

  “If what?” I ask, trying to contain my excitement.

  “If you’re behaving well. Level Green will get you in school, but I imagine level Yellow would get you a tutor, extra books and whatever else you might need.”

  Level Yellow. Tabby and her friends all wear yellow, so how hard could it be?

  “How long does it take to be Yellow?” I ask.

  “That depends on you. You’re a bright girl, and I know you’ll work hard. You need to listen to the people around you, especially Bithia and Gilad, read your Book of Glory, visit the Worship Hub regularly, and, most importantly . . .” He leans in. “Bring biscuits for Jezzy every time you visit.”

  I smile.

  “Are you ready to open your heart to us?” he asks. “To obey our rules, respect your neighbors, and let in the light?”

  I hesitate. Am I ready? He’s asking me to be open, to be respectful, and to obey the rules. These all seem like reasonable requests, and he hasn’t specifically asked me to stop praying to the Prophet.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Great!” he says, clapping his hands together. “Now, let’s go to the house of God!”

  When Ram opens the office door, I walk out, and Jezzy darts straight into Gilad’s lap. Gilad seems very unamused by the face-licking he receives.

  “Sorry, Gilad. Down, Jezzy!” Ram cries.

  “He doesn’t mind,” says Bithia, smiling hugely at Ram.

  “Mina and I are going to the Worship Hub.”

  “Are you sure she’s ready?” asks Bithia.

  Ram’s smile disappears. “Has God given you a better plan?”

  Bithia stutters. “N-n-no. I just meant, after last night––”

  “I’m kidding, Bithia,” Ram says. “Trust me on this one, okay?” Walking to her, he gives her a large hug. His head only reaches her chest, and I’m embarrassed by how his head rests on her bosom.

  People touch one another so much here. It’s weird.

  Releasing her, he says, “You go on home and take care of Silas.”

  “But the service––” Bithia says.

  “God will understand,” Ram says. “I’ll look after our girl. Don’t worry.” Putting his arm around me, he turns to Marjory. “Marjory, will you please arrange for delivery of Mina’s dress after the service?”

  Marjory frowns at me but nods. She obviously doesn’t think I’m worthy of the white clothes.

  Her and me both.

  Seven

  When we arrive at the Worship Hub, I’m stunned by the number of people filing inside. The building is gigantic, definitely bigger than any prayer center in Manhattan. It’s made of brick and concrete, but to get inside you have to walk through a massive star-shaped balloon. The star is yellow and spiky and when you walk inside it, light filters through the material, giving everyone a golden glow.

  “This star is a filter,” says Ram, with Jezzy loping next to him. “It helps clean the contaminated air from your people’s horses and busses.”

  Does he want me to apologize for the pollution?

  We enter a lobby with blue walls and paisley carpet. The smell of disinfectant clogs my nose. Families wave at Ram. A few people approach him or Jezzy for hugs. He smiles and attends to them all.

  Finally passing through the crowd, we reach the main auditorium, where an entire country seems to be congregated. A massive stage fills the north end of the room, while hundreds and hundreds of chairs fill the rest of the space.

  Ram says, “Find a seat here in the back, and I’ll find you after the service.”

  “You’re leaving me alone?” I say, overwhelmed.

  “Well, I have a couple things to take care of,” he says, winking. He and Jezzy head back to the lobby. I look around the enormous room.

  Someone waves at me. Squinting, I realize it’s Phoebe, Tabby’s friend from the food court. She’s motioning for me to sit in the empty chair beside her.

  Having no other place to go, I join her.

  “You came with Ram! Very benny,” she says.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “You look pretty. I like what you’ve done with your hair,” she says.

  It’s in a plain pony-tail. “Thanks.”

  Turning to the man sitting next to her, she says, “Daddy, this is Mina. Mina, this is my dad.”

  He’s chunky with hair in a bowl shape. After smiling briefly, he goes back to his conversation with the man next to him: “How can they not understand that the treaty is the only way to reach our salvation?”

  “How many people are here?” I ask Phoebe, still staggered by the huge arena.

  “I never really thought about it,” she says, looking around the room. “Like, five thousand maybe? And there’s another service right after this one.”

  Wow.

  She touches my arm. “You must have had a really fascinating life. I’d love to hear about it sometime.”

  I smile politely, unsure how to respond. She’s being much nicer than she was at the Leisure Center. Why?

  She leans in, whispering, “Is it true you get married at nine?”

  “Uh, no. We—”

  “And that you always cover your face? Does your husband even know wha
t you look like? And do you really throw away female babies? I heard a girl’s mouth will be sewn shut if she talks back to her father!”

  “What?” I say, horrified. “That’s not true.”

  “Which thing? I know you throw away babies.”

  “No. We don’t.” I look around for another seat but don’t see one. Is this what all the Unbound think of us?

  “I heard that if your husband doesn’t like your cooking, he can cut off your head. I’m a terrible cook, so that is major freaky. I also heard—”

  Before I get to hear what other delightful thing she’s heard about my people, the lights go out. We’re thrown into total darkness. I’m becoming distressed, when huge beams of light appear on stage: white, red, pink and purple. They wave, flash and crisscross. I’m entranced.

  Minutes later, when the light show has finished, a giant screen descends from the ceiling. A booming voice comes from all around and then images appear on the screen. A movie! My first one!

  The thunderous voice says, “To follow God is not a job, it is a calling. To follow God is not a burden, it is the source of joy. To follow God is not a choice, it is a destiny.”

  While the voice speaks, images of mountains and clouds appear on the screen, like I’m a bird flying high above. I dip up and down and twirl through the air. My stomach drops, as if I were actually up there swerving in and out of trees and not sitting here in my seat.

  Next I’m approaching an enormous canyon. It’s so beautiful, I want to cry out. Instead of skimming across the top of the canyon, I’m suddenly diving toward the bottom. My stomach drops again. We keep diving. I go faster and faster. I wait for the bird to pull away, but it’s not changing course. I’m headed for the rocks. As I’m about to hit the bottom, I see an enormous burst of light.

  Lights all over the auditorium flare as the color beams return to the stage. Everyone applauds.

  The screen rises, revealing a group of men and women with instruments. People clap harder.

  A woman begins to play the piano, the notes echoing throughout the enormous room. The sound is unfathomably beautiful, like raindrops dancing on glass. This is music––banned for nearly one hundred years by the Teachers. I want to sit here all day and listen to this instrument. This is what I will tell Ram that I want.