by David Beers
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.”
Manor nodded, his face solemn. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t,” Raylyn said. “I just had never considered what you said ….” She smiled. “I don’t even remember what we were talking about.”
“It doesn’t matter. I was just poking at you. How about we finish this glass and get out of here? I’ve kept you much later than I planned.”
Raylyn looked at him for a moment, then nodded. She took another sip from her glass.
Looks like this courtship is over. Three times a month, here I come.
Four
The Old World Ministry
Nicki Sesam was 24 years old and had lived each one in the Old World.
It was her home, the only one she knew. The only one she would ever know.
It hadn’t always been easy for Nicki to accept that thought. You’ll never leave this place.
It hadn’t actually occurred to her before her mother’s death. It wasn’t until after she died that …
Well, Nicki just hadn’t wanted to stay anymore.
You should forget all of that nonsense, her father had told her almost straight off. She’d been 15 when her mom passed. Nothing about the death was easy, not for her, nor her father. And Nicki, in her stubborn adolescence, had seemed determined to make it even harder.
You couldn’t go around talking like that, about wanting to leave the Old World. It didn’t matter if your mom died, or your child for that matter.
Nicki hadn’t cared about norms, though. At least not at the time. She didn’t start acting wild, not like some kids might have done in a similar situation. She didn’t go underground, trying to find drugs that were at least as outlawed as talk of migration. She didn’t start cursing her father or cutting herself.
She’d only wanted out of this place—out of the Old World. It reminded her of her dead mother. If Nicki were able to leave, she wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. Even at 15, Nicki had heard rumors. A Ministry that existed entirely beneath the Earth. One that lived above the clouds. Another that made people marry at 20, and then switch their spouse every ten years until they died. Nicki didn’t care about never seeing the sunlight again, nor about remaining married to one person forever.
The Old World was exactly that—old. The Catholic Church, after the Reformation, decided technology would no longer move forward within Its boundaries. It assumed control over the entirety of what was once called Europe and Africa. The Reformation brought new revelations to the Church’s theology, and doctrine now stated that the Devil would rise from technology.
Nicki grew up in a world that resembled the early 21st century, though Earth had spun around the sun for another 7,000 years.
That’s what made her want to leave. The past. Because her mother had lived there, in this Old World, and now everything reminded Nicki of that singular fact. Her mother once lived, and she no longer did.
She had just wanted to let her mother go.
She didn’t want to think about it anymore.
She didn’t want to cry at night.
She didn’t want to see her father sitting in the living room, the television on, but knowing he wasn’t watching it. Knowing that he was thinking about her mom just like she was.
Oddly enough, her father’s sitting on the couch had actually dragged her away from such destructive talk. At 24 years old, Nicki now understood that if she’d continued her migration dreams, the Church would have eventually come for her. She would have left the Old World, but not for another Ministry.
“I need something to keep me busy,” her father had said one day. He’d been sitting on the couch, staring at the television. “I need something that’s mine. No one else’s … Something that can be our family’s.”
Nicki didn’t know what he was talking about. She was 16 and sitting on the other side of the room. A year had passed, her father’s depression deepening while her desire to leave only grew stronger.
The next day, though, her father changed everything.
Daniel Sesam went to work trying to get a business license. The Church owned nearly all businesses, ensuring that capitalistic enterprises ran for the glorification of God and not solely profit motives. It took time but her father didn’t stop. Nicki watched from the sidelines—her mind slowly relenting its desire to leave. Because maybe her father was right. Maybe if they had something they owned, then the past would let her go—and she could let her mother go.
He took the tests and went through the Church’s psychological assessments. Daniel Sesam stood before Priests and answered questions on Biblical theology and history. He studied at night and prayed until the early hours of the morning. If any man believed, Nicki thought, if any man could run a business for the glorification of the Almighty, it was her father.
And then, as if God himself decided the two of them had hurt enough, the Church granted Daniel Sesam the right to do business within the Old World.
They opened a restaurant. Nicki went to school in the mornings and as
soon as it let out, she headed straight to the restaurant. She worked hard and so did her father, and even though they were competing against the Church for customers, money started coming in. Not a lot, but enough.
And three years later, Nicki woke up one day and realized she didn’t want to leave anymore.
Nine years passed with her and her father working at the restaurant. Nine happy years, for both of them. At 24 though, happiness left Nicki Sesam forever. Her father, too.
The morning went as usual, disaster holding off until later in the day.
Nicki and her father followed their usual morning ritual. Up by 8:00, breakfast together, and then Daniel read the Church’s newspaper that was delivered for free every morning. Nicki sat down for Bible study over the next hour or so.
After, the two put on their restaurant uniforms and were out the door by 10:30. The restaurant opened at noon, and it took them 30 minutes to get there. They always spent an hour prepping.
It was a routine, and while neither one felt enthusiastic about it, neither disliked it.
It got them through the morning and to what they really cared about—the restaurant.
The drive this morning was quiet. Nicki looked out the window at the passing houses. They never changed, and Nicki wondered if the people inside did. If perhaps some had moved and new people replaced them. She would never know. She only had this one side to look at—and it was an odd, paradoxical thought.
Nick knew life was constantly changing, every single piece of it—from the tiniest cell to the largest mountain—all of it happening rapidly and continuously on microscopic levels. Yet, as she looked out the car window, nothing appeared to change.
Everything was always the same.
“What are you thinking about?” her father asked from the driver’s side.
Nicki blinked slowly and smiled. “Nothing.”
“That’s not true. Tell me.”
“Why would I tell you, when I can already have the entire conversation without ever mentioning it?”
“Completely false,” her father said.
“Yeah? Don’t believe me?”
He shook his head, tightening his lips so that his grin wouldn’t show through.
“Watch.” Nicki cleared her throat in a mock show of acting. She raised her voice slightly and took on a younger version of herself. “Well, Daddy, I was thinking about the basic impermanence of the world. How things are always changing all around us, but when we look at them, we don’t notice. To us, the world stays the same day after day, and it’s only when we look at things over very long periods that we can see the change.”
Her voice became a deeper, gruffer, exaggerated man.
“None of that makes no sense. Hush up with all that thinking.”
She looked over at him, smiling.
“See. Told you I could do it.”
Daniel shook his head, his lips still thin, but he could only hold off for a second longer, and then the smile spread across his face. “That didn’t sound anything like me. I’m cultured. You know this.”
Nicki actually started laughing then, unable to help herself. “Cultured. That’s you, Dad. Through and through.”
“Exactly.”
She looked on for a second longer, the thoughts of impermanence and unchanging houses no longer in her mind. She looked at her father and loved him, and that was good.
They rode the rest of the way in silence. Daniel parked the car and the two stepped out at the same time. Nicki’s door screeched as it always did.
“We need a new car,” she said.
“My door works fine,” her father responded.
Nicki grinned and followed him inside.
Daniel headed to the back, going to grab the vegetables they needed to chop. Nicki took care of the front of the restaurant, pulling up the blinds and turning on the lights.
Soon—very soon—there would be no need for additional light inside the restaurant.
They’d been open for five hours and the evening crowd was just starting to arrive. People getting off from work and heading to dinner. The lunch shift had been good, then it slowed down, which was also fine; they needed the lull to prepare for dinner.
Now, though, people were coming in and Nicki was torn between sitting down with the couple in front of her, or heading to the front to the help the hostess.
“You sure you don’t mind?” she asked.
“Not at all,” the husband said. “My name’s Richard, and this is Allie.”
Nicki made the decision then, knowing that if her father came out, she’d catch hell. Still, she hadn’t talked to anyone like these two people since … well, maybe ever. Yes, her desire to leave the Old World had died years ago, but … maybe a small ember still burned? Enough to want to hear about other Ministries?
Nicki sat down, scooting next to the woman.
“Nice to meet both of you,” Nicki said. “If either of you see an older gentleman wearing a uniform like mine, let me know.”
“I’m sorry?” Allie asked.
“It’s my father. I’ll never hear the end of it if he catches me sitting down.”
“He works here too?” the man asked.
“He’s actually the owner.”
“Oh my goodness!” Allie said. “That’s so neat! I’ve never met anyone who owned their actual business. He must be an amazing person; that’s basically one step below Priesthood.”
“I love him, so I’m probably biased,” Nicki said. “Enough about us, though. You were actually able to travel?”
“Well, sort of,” Richard said. “But, it’s probably not like you’re thinking.”
Nicki didn’t care. If these two were telling the truth, then they were easily the most interesting people she’d ever met.
“We did go to the Constant Ministry, but we weren’t allowed to talk to any of their actual citizens, and they weren’t allowed to talk to us,” Allie said.
“How did you do it? How did you get the Church to give Its blessing?”
“Our job,” Richard started. “Or part of our job. Every five years we travel to a different Ministry. It’s part of a program all four agreed to about 50 years ago, though the treaty has changed a lot over that time. Basically, every five years lower level Ministry employees are allowed to visit and tour. The Church will see every Ministry, though we send different people to each one. It’s really the only form of diplomacy that’s allowed.”
“That we know of anyway,” Allie said.
“True,” the husband said and took a sip from his water.
“So what’s the Constant like?” Nicki asked.
The couple looked at each other and smiled, then turned to her. “It’s different. They’re not as technologically advanced as say, the True Faith, but in their own way, they may be more dedicated to their faith.”
“How so?”
“Well, they seem to be putting a lot of energy into robotics and artificial intelligence. They have machines doing almost everything for them, and that creates a lot of free time. From what we saw, they spend it in worship,” Allie said.
“Yeah, it’s like, they’re building a society of monks. Of course, we worship here. So do the other two Ministries, but I’m not sure any of us are actively working to create a society that only worships. It’s a part of our lives, and a large part, but there are other things for us.”
Nicki leaned back in her seat and looked at the two of them, nearly mesmerized. “What about the robots? What do they do?”
“Hmmm,” Richard said. “An example would be a restaurant like this. Your dad owns it. You work here. You have other people that work here. None of that takes place in the Constant. The restaurant is owned by the Ministry, much like most places in the Old World … but the employees aren’t human. They’re robots of some sort. Not necessarily the type we might imagine here. They don’t all look human or walk around like us. The restaurant’s table in the Constant would actually take your order, and then a cart would wheel it out when it w
as ready. We didn’t get to see the back of a restaurant, but I’m sure it’s similar. Their main goal, from what the bureaucrats showing us around explained, is to relieve humanity of the necessities of living.”
“The necessities of living?” Nicki asked.
“Yes. Word for word,” Allie said. “That’s what they told us. Freeing them up allows them to worship more.”
“They worship the universe right? Like as a whole?”
Richard chuckled as he took a sip of his water. “That was the hardest thing about the entire trip, not laughing at their foolishness. Yes, at its simplest, they pray to what they call the Constant. They believe it’s the guiding hand behind everything. It’s not a person. It’s not even a being. It’s just some unseen force that creates all.”
“It’s nonsense,” the wife said. “I mean, if you get into an actual conversation with them about it, any pretense of rationality breaks down.”
Nicki looked up and saw her father coming out of the kitchen. “There he is,” she said. She looked back to the couple. “I’ve got to go before he comes over. Thank you both for talking to me! This has been more interesting than you know.”
“Sure, of course. If we lived around here, we’d share more.”
“Yeah,” the wife said. “It’s too bad we’re just passing through.”
“Hey, it’s more information than I’ve heard in the past five years,” Nicki said, smiling. “Maybe I should actually do my job now and go check on your food.”
She stood up from the table and started walking across the restaurant.
Nicki didn’t notice the flames at first. They were in her periphery, and she was focused on getting to the kitchen. She knew she’d spent too much time with the couple.
It was the heat that finally got her attention.
It came on quickly, a wave of hot air rushing across her back. It ran over the skin on her neck, and Nicki paused, unsure of what was happening. The kitchen was maybe 20 feet away, and if she felt any heat, it should come from that direction.