Beaver2416 (Reviler's Affray)

by Thayer, Jeremy M.

  The duo continued to refrain from speaking, wanting more to come out of the depths of Beaver’s long-lost memories.

  “If … if … there were records of him of this kind that would mean--” Beaver stopped speaking, thinking carefully about everything that was said.

  “Mean what?” Morgan squawked with glee, knowing that Beaver was realizing things that the Academy tried to keep hidden.

  “It would mean that--the bunker was a broadcast station!?” Beaver said, with a bit of hesitation in his voice.

  “Correct!” Bobble enthusiastically rebounded with a smile.

  “Yes it was…your father would broadcast every dark to an unknown number of watchers and listeners throughout what was left of this world. He did this for spans and the emerging Academy hated every bit of it. They tried and tried to find the signal’s source and shut him down… but he was far too cunning and led by the Lord to get caught.” Morgan told.

  “So…how were we eventually caught, and the bunker and my family destroyed?” Beaver resounded on the edge of his metal seat, wanting to know everything he could.

  “Your father was very smart. He would only use untraceable mediums like videotape … er--it was a magnetic ribbon-like device that you could record …”

  Beaver suddenly raised his hand, stopping Morgan.

  “I know what videotape is, along with cameras and video recorders … Matthew told me about them in his daily rants on the transports.” Beaver quipped, and then outstretched his hand motioning Morgan to continue.

  “Ok then--He would film his nightly addresses and sermons on untraceable videotape and then have random couriers distribute them to different contacts. And in turn, their hidden groups would copy and distribute them to their own secret contacts--and on and on. With the speed and efficiency that these tapes surfaced, the Academy believed that it was a live broadcast. However, it was thousands of pre-recorded tapes in different places in the world, all being broadcast every dark at 23:00--over every wavelength and data gateway imaginable. Some would be broadcasting the newest tape, some a day behind, and still others several days behind. Every broadcast they shut down, there would be hundreds more in the same area to take its place, all showing different tapes. This constant shuffling is what confused the Academy powers the most, and kept them away from the source for spans.” Morgan paused and stood to his feet.

  He started pacing back and forth with a look of distraught upon his face.

  Beaver then knew that whatever had happened that lead to his entire life being changed--it must have been horrible.

  “Your father, had two trusted couriers who would be the first in line to distribute. These two were the most important of all, and had the most danger. This was because, they had to take the tapes directly from the bunker to the first contact. Young, quick…but they had to be the most loyal and trusted because if they were ever captured, they could reveal what all the others were never told. Which was, the true location of the source broadcast.”

  Morgan stopped and closed his eyes.

  He was visibly upset as he sighed and continued--“These two couriers were spotted by a roving sleuth and quickly confirmed by a hail of flying quadra drones that were in the area. They ran and made it as far as Humbletown--you call Stowelowly--and there they were captured by Acad foot troops, with the latest tapes in tow.

  When the Academy Elites figured out that the cargo they carried was the latest videotape to be broadcast, and none of the nightly addresses were actually live; they took the two couriers to the torturers at the newly built Catholic Parliament. Then, they proceeded to inflict their brand of horror upon them. One courier cracked at the 27 earth-hour mark and revealed the location of the bunker and everyone inside. His act of treason was rewarded with an instant infusion, while he was still strapped to the torturer’s table. The other, lasted 67 earth-hours and never told anything, other than repeatedly saying ‘Jesus loves you.’ When they finally checked out the information and learned that it was true; his torture no longer amused them. So, they took this second courier outside, near the screen. And, with bellows of laughter they infused him in the right wrist, point blank; shattering most of his radius and burning through his Bio-mark. Then, an Elite used an interrupter to make a pathway, and a few guards shoved him from behind, into the wasteland beyond the screen.” Morgan again stopped his retelling.

  He suddenly removed the bio-mechanical glove on his right hand, revealing a darkened void in his wrist and forearm.

  “I was that man…” Morgan said, with tears in his eyes.

  Beaver quickly stood to his feet with great doubt.

  “But--you were INFUSED!? THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE!” he snapped, not knowing what to do next.

  “But, you cannot deny what you see--This large gaping hole in my wrist and forearm--can you? Chemically burned, completely through my veins and arteries--with no treatment at all, and left to die in poisoned air--I should be a corpse … right?” Morgan interjected with authority.

  Beaver could only shake his head at this saying, knowing that he telling the truth.

  “It is now, that you need to start looking through eyes of faith and not what you have been brainwashed to see. Verb-bot--Luke 18:27.” Morgan said, as he put his mechanized glove back on.

  The android stirred awake and suddenly spoke in proper English—

  “Luke 18:27 ‘And he said, The things which are impossible with men are possible with God.’ End quote.”

  “All things are possible through Jesus Christ who strengthens us… That’s why the Academy hates us all. We are their greatest threat, because we serve someone far, far greater than your Lame Master.” Bobble spoke sternly.

  After moments of silent contemplation, this slowly made Beaver smile even wider than before. To even think that someone could far outweigh the reach and strength of the G.M. was deadly. However, serving someone that could make men survive infusions, hundreds if not thousands of people live without technological chains, and cities to be born in caves underground; sounded at first to Beaver

  —like someone worth dying for.

  “I know that this is seemingly too much, too soon Beaver. There is much to think about, decisions to make”--Morgan stated in a consoling manner--“While you think hard about everything that has been said--would you like to meet yourself?” he continued, trying to lighten the mood.

  Beaver quickly scoffed at such an odd question, and then slowly relented with an affirmative nod. Morgan then pressed the many buttons on the dusty board, spelling out several words.

  “Your name is Beaver2416 … right?” Morgan questioned.

  Beaver simply nodded again, being dumbstruck by his weird questions.

  “You were told time and time again, that your name was sacred, and endowed by the Great Master on high … right?” he again questioned.

  “Yes … so?” Beaver squawked, still with a look of enigma. Morgan suddenly stopped his pressing of keys and pointed at the viewing device.

  “Well, Beaver2416--may I proudly present to you, Beaver 0001!”

  The screen brightened and all of a sudden what shone upon the crude device was a crackly, sepia toned film depicting a pudgy child with strange clothing--and an even stranger hairstyle. He was riding on something that he had seen at the Archive of Fact.

  “Is that a Bye Cycle?” Beaver said in amazement.

  “It was called a bicycle …” Bobble stated in correction.

  Suddenly, block styled words appeared on the screen in front of the child.

  “Beaver--it says Beaver.” Beaver2416 whispered to himself.

  “Yes it does… and you were the 2415th person selected by an antiquated computer system, that was filled with old entertainment programs, known in the former time as ‘movies’ and ‘teleplays’; to be ‘endowed’ with the name Beaver.” Morgan relayed sarcastically.

  Beaver was surprised by this stark revelation; but somehow, he felt deep inside that it was expected.

  “Show me Timmy2845…�
� he said, wanting to know more. Morgan pressed a different sequence on the board, and all of a sudden a boy and his large pre-con dog could be seen in an equally sepia tone. Beaver laughed out loud at what he saw.

  “Old Tim was named after a dog?! Ha!” He chuckled to himself.

  “No… not the dog. The boy holding the dog was named Timmy.” Bobble snarked.

  “Oh … ok.” Beaver quietly toned, still laughing to himself.

  All of a sudden, Beaver peered at Bobble with a strange look.

  “Now wait a tict! Tim … I mean Matthew always called YOU a DOG--or a BUM! Why?” he said with his hand on his hip in agitation.

  “They were code words. B.U.M. stood for Bring Us More, meaning it was safe to bring more people into the caves. D.O.G. stood for Don’t Others Go, meaning it was too risky at this time. With his workjob location at the Archive of Fact, he always knew when the Academy started stirring. Even the word ‘dugout’ had a hidden meaning… it was a play on the words ‘do’ and ‘good.’ Everything that Matthew put in it; all the food, tools, and medicines, made it here and abroad to help everyone.” Bobble told, with a hint of sorrow.

  Beaver was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. “I thought he was so arrogant and rude… only thinking of himself all the time. I didn’t know anything about who he actually was…” he said looking down at the pock marked floor.

  “And he wanted it that way…” Morgan interrupted. “Also…’chop’ as he most eloquently asked about on the transport that day, means ‘Christian Has Other People’ or… in other words, another schism group somewhere had just been formed. A chop is an extremely, great thing…” Morgan told.

  “How many groups are there?” Beaver asked inquisitively.

  “I’m sorry… I cannot tell you that. Maybe soon, I will be able to--however, that decision is truly up to you. Also, before you ask--I cannot tell you your real name. That is something reserved for a time pre-ordained, that I do not know as of yet.” Morgan stated and again sat at his Lev-desk.

  “You are not making any sense! None of this makes any sense!” Beaver out cried with his head in his hands.

  He felt frustrated and mad--along with great confusion that made his head spin.

  “But … you are here, which is an impossibility according to the Academy powers. We do not exist, yet you see us. Why would it be any more difficult to believe in something else that has been labeled as ‘impossible,’ than what you have already experienced and seen with your own two eyes? You have a great decision to make …” Morgan again stated with authority.

  This thought made Beaver’s head swim in a vortex of dogmatic unfamiliarity. All of these ideas and phrases told by Morgan and Bobble were macabre to him. They were the very gospel of death, in the eyes and ears of countless hordes of Acad-soldiers. To him, all that had ever surrounded their utterance was annihilation. They were abomination to everything that he had been taught and beat into him. Beaver however, knew that Morgan was right. It was all a singular decision that he had to make:

  To accept everything and make it his own, or forsake everything that he had seen and experienced.

  To embrace this new ideology, meant changing everything that he knew as normality. It meant risking his own life and taking new chances--much more than hiding a dusty book in a corner. He literally had to be willing to lay down his life for others. This one thought scared him the most. He had seen so much destruction and wretchedness throughout his existence. The Academy was merciless towards any non-conformist. All of a sudden, Beaver mused about his span of torture at the reformer’s camp.

  Why would all these old sentences they keep saying, be worth risking more torture?—Beaver contemplated. He suddenly had many doubts if the many foreign words and phrases that had been relayed to him on this Decision day, were truly worth anything at all.

  What would make it any different? How could this group and their hidden religion make my life any better?--Beaver deeply thought to himself.

  He then, remembered all of the people from the first time that he came to the complex. Each one had either greeted him directly with handshakes and nudges, or at the very least given him a smile and a head nod. They did not run in fright, nor were they afraid of him. It was if they were glad to see him, like he was a distant friend who had come for a visit. They were all happy--genuinely happy.

  All the Academy could ever dole out is misery and more hardships in the name of their false god

  --This feeling of goodwill intrigued him.

  “If I make this decision, as you say … what is in it for me?” Beaver said with a slathering of selfishness.

  “Eternal life.” Morgan quickly returned.

  “Do you mean freedom from infusions?” Beaver inquisitively asked.

  “No, eternal life as in eternity… forever.” Morgan again returned, with a glow.

  Beaver mused upon his puzzling statement.

  “Why would I want to live forever in such as dismal and rot-gut world as this?” he barked.

  “No Beaver--not here. In a place without fears and worries. A place without Academies, weapons, and torture. A place where Jesus lives and your father dwells--It’s a place called Heaven.” Morgan said, as he arose from the Lev-desk and approached Beaver.

  “And … you can go there as well. The secret is--you have to die, to live.” He calmly said, as he laid his hand upon Beaver’s shoulder.

  Inside of his sociopathic heart, there was a Great Conflict stirring. He truly longed for freedom and such love, as all the people had showed him. However, he was very afraid. This turbulence of scarred emotions made Beaver squirm and toss about in discomfort. He wanted what Morgan and Bobble were saying, but his darkened mind kept saying “NO,” like the fury of the lash. He wanted to run away, yet his feet prevented him. He wanted to fight, but his hands would not cooperate. He wanted to scream, but his tongue couldn’t move. His core being was warring against itself in a munitious battle for supremacy. Beaver trembled with feeling, and his eyes began to well as flooded pools, standing ready to flow. With his cascade of sentimentality at its apex, he suddenly relented and surrendered to all that he was told.

  “How might I die to live? Please tell me …” Beaver pleaded, with a river of tears.

  Morgan and Bobble then surrounded him, and began to speak many words as before.

  Beaver could only close his eyes and cry profusely. He could no longer control any of his darkened inhibitions. He suddenly let go of himself and raised his hands into the air. He didn’t know why he did so, other than he felt that he need to reach out, and release everything held tightly inside. As they prayed together, Beaver’s heart and mind began to metamorphose into something deeply unknown. For the first time in his life, he was letting go of something.

  He felt as if it were now alright to fall…

  to feel…

  to care…

  to love.

  His tears fell like streams of pure water, into a churning spillway of forgetfulness. His heart burst forth with the newness of life and he could feel the presence of God.

  “I CAN FEEL! … I CAN FEEL!” Beaver cried forth with the pangs of a new birth. He could not stop his crying, as his being was overwhelmed with the joy of holiness.

  For the first time, he cared--he actually cared.

  “MORE! I WANT MORE! I NEED MORE!” Beaver screamed with delight as a drunken man, demanding another round.

  Morgan and Bobble were also filled with joy and had tears flowing from their eyes. “There is more … much more--follow me.” Morgan gleefully said, walking out towards the infirmary.

  Bobble grabbed Beaver from behind and led him. He could only stagger about, as his mind and heart were overjoyed with emotion. The people standing around began to clap their hands and had whoops of gladness. Many of them began to follow after Morgan as well.

  He led them into an alcove that was tucked away behind of the infirmary. There in the center, was a natural hot spring filled with water. It thrashed and bubbled abo
ut much like Beaver, as he was still in a stupor. Morgan entered into the pool without hesitation and then motioned for Beaver to enter as well. Bobble led him down into the pool and then quickly exited. Beaver could only smile, as he didn’t know what was about to happen.

  “We are all gathered together, here with Beaver2416 on this joyous day, as he has made his decision to enter into a new life with Jesus Christ.” Morgan said beamingly as he looked around at the crowd.

  “Beaver … what I am about to do is something that your father did, as well as the early church and the Apostles did--as it is written in Matthew’s and your father’s bible. Beaver2416--do you confess Jesus Christ as your Lord, your God, and your Savior?” Morgan paused looking into Beaver’s eyes.

  Beaver suddenly broke from his holy incapacity, and had a look of raw determination come upon his face. This moment was for his father, Matthew, and everyone else who gave their life for the cause of Jesus. He was doing it for them, as well as himself. It was to him a proclamation that from this moment on, he would not live or die in vain. He would never again succumb to the whims of the Academy or the false Great Master. But rather, with honor; proclaim to others this holy gospel of freedom, regardless of whatever it may cost. His eyes brightened with life and he bellowed from the very depths of his soul.

  “YES--I DO!” Beaver reverberated in a loud voice that echoed throughout the crowd.

  Morgan could not help but gleam brightly as he continued.

  “Upon the confession of your faith before God and man, I duly baptize thee, into the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of your sins.” Morgan proclaimed with great authority, as he lowered him into the waters.

  Beaver seemingly leaped forth from under his watery grave, and began to dance about in the hot spring. All of a sudden, he too spoke many words like Morgan and Bobble. It was as if someone else was speaking for him, as he could not control his lips. His hands were raised in joy, and many of the people began to do the same, as they rejoiced together with great gladness. Musicians with primitive instruments appeared through the sides of the alcove, and began to play strange hymns of the former time. Workers in the fields stopped everything and also joined in with their children and wives. It was to all of them, a time of abundant triumph; a day of enormous jubilation.