2042: An American 1984-Dystopian Thriller

by Leigh Holland

  “Mr. Hale,” she began to speak but he cut her off.

  “Call me Paul.” He insisted. “Do you find it odd that I have this remote?”

  “Yes, sir.” she responded. He gave her a disapproving glance. “I mean, yes, Paul.”

  When he disapproved, he did so wordlessly, but the message was plain enough. There was something about Mr. Hale that made Rachel want to please him. Mr. Hale was an aloof, mysterious enigma that Rachel wanted to figure out. Mr. Hale had this effect on more than a few people, but there were others who seemed unaffected by him.

  “Honestly, I didn’t even know it was possible to turn off the Spider-screens.” Rachel admitted.

  “Only a few of us have that privilege.” he revealed. “This remote only works on this particular Spider-screen, though. I can’t use it at any other location. Now, you’re probably wondering why I called you here?”

  “Yes, Paul.”

  He smiled. “I wanted to apologize for the harsh look I gave you at the Meeting House yesterday. It was uncalled for.”

  “Well,” Rachel explained, “I was just concerned for the girl. She seemed to be in a lot of pain. No one was helping her.”

  He leaned forward across the desk towards her, implying intimacy in their words. “No one was helping her because it has been drummed into them that she was a woman not to be associated with under any circumstances. That’s why I gave you such a glare. You betrayed something about yourself, yesterday, Mrs. Wright. Something that won’t sit well with the powers that be.”

  “Please, call me Rachel.” she offered, hoping not to appear too forward. “Unless, of course, you think that’s inappropriate.”

  “Rachel, you have to be more careful.” he said, concern furrowing his brow. “You openly displayed that you felt sorry for a person who is supposed to be an object of contempt. By revealing this, you call your entire character into question. My wife...” he paused, removed his glasses and rubbed his brow, then put them back on and continued, “She liked you. She’s gone, you know. And she was fond of you. But when she was with me, she even agreed that at times...well, at times, you exhibit character traits that could get you in trouble.”

  At this, Paul began to weep. “They took her from me.” He mumbled into his handkerchief, then wept some more. Rachel came around the desk and knelt before him, patting him and comforting him.

  “There, there, Paul,” she said soothingly, “there, there.” Rachel had no idea what to say. She was gone, and it wouldn’t be alright. Instead, Rachel put her arms around him, and laid his head on her chest as he wept, stroking his dark hair. Paul cried for several minutes, letting out his pain, while Rachel comforted him as a mother does a child. It felt good to them both, to have a private, human moment away from the prying eyes of the Spider-screen. Finally, he stopped weeping and raised his head from her chest.

  “I’m sorry.” he said. “Not only have I made an utter fool of myself in front of you, but I’ve spent so much time alone with you if anyone notices it will seem improper. There will undoubtedly be talk. I just don’t have anyone to talk to. Not anyone I can trust. I thought since my Delilah trusted you...”

  Rachel grinned. “Paul, that’s the risk friends take for each other.”

  “Friends?” he asked, wiping his face, and regaining his composure.

  “I’d say we are friends. Allies at the very least.” Rachel told him. “I care for you and your well-being, as you have stated more than once in our meeting today that you do for me as well. And we both have lost someone close to us.”

  He regarded her carefully. “I suspect we have far more in common than you yet realize.”

  The Spider-screen came on abruptly, startling Rachel. For a moment, she thought this may have all been a ruse, and she would be dragged in for having the wrong “feelings” about people and events around her. But it was just the regular programming.

  “It’s okay.” Paul assured her. “After twenty minutes, it automatically comes on. We will be seeing each other again, Mrs. Wright, especially if your productivity keeps improving as it has lately. I will have to put you in for a commendation.”

  “Oh, you’re too kind.” she replied, playing along. She curtsied and exited his office, heading back to her cubicle.

  The lunch bell sounded. As she sat down to eat her soupy potatoes, she surveyed the cafeteria. Esther was not there today, it seemed. Rachel got Mr. Christian’s attention, and asked, “Have you seen Mrs. Wordsworth today?”

  “Oh, didn’t you see on the Spider-screen?” he responded with surprise. “She was one of the lucky ones who was raptured yesterday. Fortunate woman!”

  “Indeed.” Rachel muttered, saddened by the realization that Esther was gone. “Does it seem to you, Mr. Christian, that more people are being raptured to the King lately?”

  “Yes, it does, praise be to the King and the Profit! It’s further proof that we will soon be in the thousand years of his glorious reign.” he replied, joyfully.

  She wanted to say that Esther had cancer, that she had died from a disease that wasn’t supposed to exist since the Profit claimed to have eradicated it as miraculous proof of his divine calling. She wanted to scream what she knew deep down: that this was a sham. There was no rapture, just people dying in ways that were inconvenient for the Profit. This was an empty promise made to the masses to keep them in line. Rachel wondered why everyone so happily accepted these lies as truth. She looked at the sloppy drooping droppings slowly falling from her fork to the plate below. She was no longer hungry.

  Sighing, she turned in her plate and went to her desk early. On her way back, she reflected that she didn’t care if she had become a “Heart Heretic”, one who disbelieves yet outwardly pretends to belong in the Kingdom. She wondered how deep the lies went. Entering her cubicle, she came face to face with Temperance.

  The two women smiled at each other warmly, softly, and intimately. Rachel looked her up and down. Temperance looked especially beautiful to Rachel today, though she hadn’t changed her appearance at all. She was about to comment upon it, when Temperance looked askance at the Spider-screen on Rachel’s desk. Rachel nodded.

  “I just dropped by to give you a flyer,” Temperance told her, handing her a yellow piece of paper. “The Vestals are taking a tour of the Absolute Truth in History Museum after work. Any unwed woman is invited, free of charge.”

  “Sort of like a membership drive?” Rachel asked. “Will you be there, Miss Turner?”

  “Yes, I’ll be there tonight. It’s a membership drive, as you said. Can we expect you to attend?”

  “Of course, I’ll be there.” Rachel promised.

  Temperance beamed with happiness. “I look forward to it.” Then she went on her way.

  For the remainder of the day, Rachel had trouble focusing on her tasks. But she muddled through them, and as soon as the end bell rang, she rushed to the Museum. She was a bit early, so she went to the bathroom and piddled around until time for the tour to begin. She wasn’t the least bit interested in the tour. She was only there for Temperance. The elderly Perpetual Vestal called everyone together in the lobby, and assigned the tour by pairs. Temperance was paired up with Rachel, and the pairs then walked through the museum by twos, discussing the Vestal Order and the museum exhibits.

  “It’s like a sisterhood, a family, dedicated to the Profit.” One of the Vestals told her ‘initiate’ as they headed to the Garden area.

  Temperance and Rachel walked together slowly, deliberately losing pace with the others so they could be alone together. The Spider-screens graced many walls, making outward signs of affection difficult. But when the exhibits automatically spoke an explanation of themselves, they could stand closer and speak to each other undisturbed and without suspicion.

  Temperance pressed the button on a dinosaur exhibit.

  “Mankind and dinosaurs co-existed peacefully in the Garden prior to man’s disobedience. Dinosaurs, such as T-Rex, were once vegetarians, as was man. After woman’s disobedi
ence, they did not co-exist peacefully,” the recording explained, as a figure of a primitive man began fighting with a dinosaur. He lost the battle as the dinosaur clenched his prone body in its massive jaws. “This was the result of woman being foisted upon man...”

  Rachel quietly spoke, “When can we be alone, really alone, together?”

  “Only one place is devoid of the blasted screens, and that’s Purgatory.”

  “Won’t our Safechips be able to track us? If they discover we’ve gone outside the Gates, won’t we be punished?”

  “My father, rest him, designed the Safechip.” Temperance informed her. “He told me a secret about them.”

  The exhibit finished its pre-programmed speech and they moved on to the next display case. In this display, there were images of the men who founded the nation that existed prior to the Glorious Revolution. Rachel pressed the button.

  “The territories originally had founding documents that established the Kingdom within their borders and commanded that unless one believe in the King, one could not hold public office or have any authority. These early “mini-kingdoms” were imperfect, but they tried. Then these territories were forced to join under one union by a group of men who belonged to a secret society known for seducing its members with unclean pagan spirits and ideas. These men founded a nation based on an evil idea called “Civil Government”. This form of government is in direct opposition to the Divine Word, King, and Profit...”

  “What secret?” Rachel inquired.

  “Wrap your wrist in aluminum foil and cover it with a glove. This reflects the signal and jams the tracking device on the Safechip. The truth is, the Safechip’s tracking function goes offline for a couple of hours on its own internal schedule, then reboot after a rest. If we don’t stay out for more than a few hours, it won’t alert anyone as to our absence.”

  “...so-called ‘rule by Law’ was a religion within the Roman Empire, in which the Laws of men were established as the supreme arbiter of society, rather than the Divine Word. These laws eventually developed into the evil religion known as “Secular Humanism”. The government having been ruled by the enemies of God, the Elect were left with no choice but to rebel to save the people and return the nation to its original Kingdom state.” The narration finished.

  They moved on to an exhibit of what the nation was like before the Glorious Revolution. It showed rampant abortion being used as birth control, dead babies near term, people worshiping false idols, Meeting Houses being demolished, and men marrying other men. There were pictures of scientists who had fallen under the sway of the Adversary, promoting false ideas about the beginning of the world and the nature of man. The alleys were dark, filled with drugs, harlotry, trash, filth, and pornography.

  Temperance pressed the button and the narration began anew, “In the Dark Age of Humanism, people were led astray through government sponsored educational programs. The government of the time was ruled by the Humanists, who taught that man must worship himself and there is no God. They taught that all religions were equal and the same, denying the Absolute Truth of our faith. As a result...”

  “Do I do this before I leave the apartment, or after?” Rachel asked.

  “Before. Do you have a friend among the Convicted who can provide help in getting through to the other side?”

  Rachel remembered Bartholomew. “Yes, but I don’t want to cause him trouble.”

  “Trust me, it won’t.” Temperance insisted.

  The narration continued on, “...powerful Labor Union leaders threatened to destroy the economy by organizing witless masses of workers to become slothful and lazy and refuse to do their jobs. Knowing this was against God’s design for man, the benign corporations took decisive action by placing True Believers in positions of authority and power. These stealth Kingdom Elect then championed the cause of the righteous, and ensured our workers had the right to compete with workers from around the globe. This level of competition ensured workers felt fortunate to even have a job, and would never threaten to become shiftless, lay about welfare queens ever again. The power of the thoughtless labor bosses was at an end and the workers, and the market, set free once more from vile persecution...”

  Rachel felt a twinge of jealousy. “Have you done this sort of thing before?”

  “What? You mean, leave the Gates? Yes, I have done so several times before. But it’s not wise to do so more than four times per year. Any more than that and it will get noticed.” Temperance frowned when she glanced at Rachel’s expression. “You meant have I done this with anyone else?”

  Rachel nodded affirmatively.

  “...soon, women even demanded men commit the awful sin of spilling their seed inside an apparatus known as a condom, rather than inside the woman where God intended. The spilling of seed is a sin punishable by death at the hands of God himself, and thus there is no earthly punishment attached to this sin...” continued the narration.

  “Yes.” Temperance admitted, stiffening. “I had a lover once, when I was eighteen. But that’s in the past.”

  Temperance had confessed to her a crime that, if discovered by others, would result in a horrible fate. Women were expected to remain chaste until marriage. Should a woman wed, the parents of the girl had to retrieve proof of her virginity- namely, the bloody sheets from the wedding night. This would serve to protect their daughter against false claims should her husband grow angry with her. Temperance Turner was no longer a virgin. She was technically a Harlot. If she wed under pretense of virginity, and was discovered, she would be shamed and exiled, and her family would have to pay an exorbitant fine to her husband.

  On the narration went, “...men dressed in women’s attire and men committed sexually deviant acts upon each other. Soon, women followed suit...”

  “Did you enjoy it?” Rachel asked, no longer jealous. “Because if you enjoyed the act, that will only make me think better of you.”

  Temperance beamed at her. “Yes, I did.”

  “When shall we meet?”

  “Tomorrow after work, go home. Eat dinner, then come through the Gates to the other side. Meet me where two roads meet. Their names are Broadway and 5th Street. Can you do that?”

  “I will.” Rachel stated. “I’ll be there. I promise.”

  They looked at several more exhibits and discussed Rachel’s work, Temperance’s work, and her involvement with the Vestal Order. Over the next few hours, they shared things about themselves with each other, such as their favorite foods, Spider-screen programs, hymns, and other personal information. At the end of the tour, the initiates were signing up for service to the Order. Rachel did the same, asking to be placed on Temperance’s committee. They were responsible for visiting girls’ finishing schools and teaching them the importance of abstinence before marriage. Afterwards, Rachel walked home alone, not wanting to draw suspicion.

  VII.

  Although Rachel barely slept, she was energized the next day. She nodded curtly to Paul, but when their eyes locked, a secret understanding passed between them. They were dissatisfied with the Kingdom and had only each other to relate to in that particular heresy. They understood they were somehow bound up in this together, and needed to watch out for each other. She completed her tasks with great zeal and efficiency at work, hoping to make the day pass faster. Although she saw Temperance at lunch, she dared not risk making their affection for each other obvious. When at last, the day was at an end, Rachel cheerfully headed to the Coffee Shop.

  The bell rang at the top of the door as she strolled in and approached the counter. No one else was in the shop, which didn’t surprise her. The Coffee Shop was more popular in the morning. The boy looked up from his work. It wasn’t Bartholomew.

  “Hello,” Rachel said, feeling her heart sink. “Is Bartholomew here?”

  The new boy wore Bartholomew’s old uniform. It had the same mended hemline in the trousers and ratty hems at the ankles. The uniform was a bit big for Bartholomew, who couldn’t have been more than ten years
old. This boy looked about seven. There was a strong resemblance. Maybe they were brothers.

  “Good afternoon, Miss.” he replied, “Today we have blueberry muffins on sale for half price, or buy two chocolate chip muffins, get the third one free. It’s a great bargain, it is, since chocolate is so rare and hard to come by these days.”

  “What’s your name, young man?” She asked.

  “Now, Miss,” he said, trying to sound grown up, “you know it’s not proper for a gentleman to use familiar forms of address with a lady, and especially when it’s a lowly muffin peddler such as myself.”

  “My boy,” Rachel said sadly, “you are wise to the ways of this world in a manner beyond your years.”

  “One does what one must to survive. One needs their daily bread, Miss.” he answered. “Besides, they can pay me less because I’m smaller. Less bread per day needed.” he told her.

  “Let me buy you a muffin, my lowly muffin peddler.” She whispered, picking a chocolate chip muffin from the case and offering her wrist for scanning.

  His eyes lit up with wonder. He had dreamed of eating one of the muffins, but that would be theft, and theft was punished with having to pay back the value of the goods taken plus one fifth the value added. Since he wouldn’t be able to afford to pay, he would be indentured into service without pay. Which meant no bread for many weeks, and ultimately, death by starvation. Chocolate was hard to come by since the Banking Wars had begun. The Banking Wars were a “sub-war” in the overall War Against Terror. Apparently, the terrorists were using banks in a distant place called Switzerland which was good at only three things: hiding the illegally gotten wealth of others, minding their own business, and chocolate. To disrupt their cash flow, the Kingdom tried to seize all Swiss bank accounts. The Swiss, in a daring act of non-neutrality, refused to relinquish the funds, and in turn seized Kingdom accounts. Once the Kingdom declared war against the Swiss, the Swiss refused to relinquish their chocolate to the Kingdom’s markets. Hence, the chocolate shortage and the ludicrously high price of a chocolate chip muffin. The price, however, was not too high for Rachel, who needed little and supported only herself. Her job paid well enough that she could save a respectable amount of credits.