by Billy Dering
“Despite your southern accent, there is a certain familiarity about you,” he continued as he studied her face.
Elder-1 broke his stare and taking a step back, he examined all three of them. “That’s better. Let us know if you require fitting adjustments for your uniforms or undergarments, but now you look just like all of the other females and will fit in nicely. Your integration is proceeding quite well.”
After they brushed their teeth and applied some deodorant, he took the girls back into the hallway. As they walked, Sara noticed that both the walls and the ceiling were a soft, light gray color. The floor was covered with a maroon-colored carpet. Most of the rooms on this floor had large windows, and all of the doors also had a large window in the top half. She could again hear a quiet voice and noticed that speakers were mounted every ten feet near the top of the wall. There was also a video camera at each end of the hallway.
Elder-1 led them down the hall and opened an exit door. They were greeted by a cold breeze as they stepped onto the deck at the bow of the ship. The afternoon sun shone brightly over the dark blue water. On one side of the deck, a tall crane cast a long shadow.
“Fresh air.” Maria inhaled and put her hands on her wet hair. She shivered as she pushed down. “Wow, cold, fresh air.”
The elder put his hands behind his back and gazed at the shoreline, “Our boat has probably reached the beach by now.” After a moment, he walked over and unlocked a storage cabinet.
Sara leaned on the deck rail and peered at the shore, pretending to also look for the boat. She was really trying to see if she could spot Old Man Drexer’s beach shack. It was too far away to pick out without binoculars. She was wondering if the guys were even still there. As she leaned over the rail, she turned her head and glanced bow to stern. She noted that there were four davits and tenders on this side of the ship—two toward the bow, and two toward the stern. She commented, “Seems like this ship is a little light when it comes to lifeboats.”
“Due to project expansion, space needs, and the fact that we were generally moored close to shore, we only needed to keep enough lifeboat tenders to carry the… elders.”
The pause in his words made her turn and her eyes opened wide. He was leaning against the rail next to her with binoculars against his eyes. Damn! Put them down, she thought.
“Good view?” Sara was trying to break his concentration. “Did you see the historic lighthouse over there?”
“We are not looking for tourist attractions.”
“Oh. What are we looking for?”
He did not answer right away. While still holding the binoculars he finally said, “It appears that the body of your dead comrade is no longer on the beach.”
Sara swallowed hard. Glancing behind her, she was relieved that Heidi was not within earshot for such a callous reminder of Brian.
“That’s strange. Short of another storm, there’s no way the tide could have reached his body.”
“Are we going to be out here long? It’s freezing,” Sara said, trying to change the subject.
Elder-1 ignored her. “We need to be on high alert during our search efforts. Back inside!” he instructed as he walked over to the door.
Chapter 16
December 28, 2044
Wednesday, Midday
New Jersey coast, Utopia Project
Ship Number One
Two days after the event
The girls followed Elder-1 up the hallway. He stopped in front of a large window and said, “Hold up!”
He pulled the walkie-talkie from his belt and depressed the call button. “Elder-48, come in!”
“Here, Sir. We have already reached the mainland.”
“Be on high alert. We highly suspect there are survivors over there moving about in the shadows.”
Elder-48 radioed back, “We will be on the highest alert.”
“Good. All survivors must be killed. And you are to stay over there until the entire area has been cleared, and even some of the surrounding areas.”
“Yes, Sir. We brought supplies and expect this mission to take a few days. We will provide a status report this evening.”
“Over, and out,” Elder-1 said and clipped his walkie-talkie back on his belt.
Sara was frozen in fear, given Elder-1’s conversation. She was staring at a room through a window, but was not comprehending a thing.
“They are all doing their five-hour shifts,” Elder-1 noted. “It is much more efficient for all people to work five hours per day, six days per week, than to have some of the population working 12 hours a day and some not working at all.”
Shaking her head, Sara blinked until her focus returned. Through the window, she could see men and women cleaning uniforms at a series of washing stations. As the large, industrial sized dryers would finish, a woman would walk the clothes over to a man who would press the uniforms and put them on hangers. The garments were then hung on a mobile rack.
Trying to tamp down her fear, she asked a casual question. “They only work 30 hours per week? Why don’t they work more?”
He turned his back to the window and continued, “Life shouldn’t be consumed by work. Stop and ask yourself, in the old society, how many jobs or tasks were not truly essential to our survival as human beings?”
Here comes another rant, Sara thought.
“Many. Anything related to money and finances, which is a large pool of workers. Even the legal profession, which was usually about dollars, not justice. And how many professions seemed to exist just to further their own existence or to just make money? If you eliminate useless professions and non-essential jobs, you have more people doing less tasks, and just those that are essential for society to properly function. And in return for performing their assigned tasks, all of our members needs are provided for. There is no need for money or currency.”
Sara listened to Elder-1 and watched the workers for a few moments. The repetition was almost mesmerizing. How can they not be totally bored? she wondered. They looked like automatons, all set to move at the same speed. Their movements resembled machines on an assembly line.
Elder-1 turned and watched the workers as they continued washing and pressing the uniforms. He seemed pleased. “They are not stressed or hurried, and are very much content while performing essential tasks.”
“What about more intense jobs, like researching cures for diseases or something like that?” Sara asked.
“Our members are categorized as Type A, B, or C. The workers you see in there,” he pointed in the window, “are Type A, and perform the simpler tasks. Researchers and educators perform more complex tasks and are Type C. Most of the researchers serve as educators as well, and pass their technical knowledge on to the younger members of the same type. We have a matrix of all essential tasks, which includes the member type required to fulfill those tasks, for everything from research to,” he held his hands up to the window, “laundry.”
“How do you determine a person’s type?”
He again turned away from the window and toward the girls. “Throughout every pregnancy and after birth, we perform many tests to determine mental and physical capacity. Members are then categorized by type. We only need to determine their type for our own management purposes. They themselves are not even aware that they are categorized in such a way. They all see each other as equals.”
“How can a Type C researcher and Type A laundry worker see each other as equals?” Sara asked.
“The only difference between types is their work location and assigned tasks. They all undergo the same basic conditioning. And all mental and physical activities, as well as sleeping and eating arrangements, do not discriminate as to type.”
“Yeah, but if your people are sitting around the dinner table talking, don’t the Type A’s listen to the what the Type C’s are doing for work and wonder why they don’t get to do really important tasks?” Although she loathed being on the ship, Sara found herself curious about this society.
“Si
nce all tasks are considered essential, no specific task is regarded as more or less important or mundane than another. They do speak about their tasks, but they are all proud to perform any task that is essential to our society. That is how they have been raised. They all respect and admire each other as pieces of our society’s puzzle. The most technical researcher’s tasks are no more important than…” Elder-1 again pointed to the uniform washers.
Sara turned and looked in the window. “What happens when people get too old to keep working? Is there a separate type for that?”
“No, but that is where our society’s master plan, or blueprint, comes in. It covers every aspect of life from birth through death. Although we are not there yet with our members, the master plan calls for periodic evaluations of all people over the age of 60. As long as they are still able to contribute, even if for a little less time per day or in a different type, they will remain active members of our society. Some will become the next generation of elders. Those who do not become elders and can no longer contribute because of physical or mental deterioration, will be terminated.”
“So you send them to slaughter, like dairy cows who have run dry,” Maria commented.
Cringing, Sara looked to Elder-1. He did not seem to take offense. “The premise is not so different, nor is it baseless.”
Sara tried not to sound disgusted “But we’re not animals.”
“There should not be such a differentiation. Although we have a higher mental capacity than other mammals, our pure needs are no different than theirs. Food, sleep, physical stimulation? Mental stimulation for species with mental capacity? And those who can no longer contribute are left behind.”
“We still have the ability to provide some quality of life, even when people are old, or sick, or can’t contribute,” Sara noted. “That’s what differentiates us from most animals.”
“In the long-run, you cannot maintain the production, distribution, and consumption of resources for an entire society when too many members do not contribute to the system due to age, sickness, capacity, privilege or even downright laziness. It is simply an unbalanced equation whereby those who do contribute will inevitably have to contribute too much, to make up for those who don’t, causing them to break down, burn out, give up, or even die. This will in turn burden and break down the system as a whole. This is why we terminate all people who cannot adequately contribute to society. We will never have the imbalances the old world had.”
“What about disabled or handicapped people? What is their type?” Maria chimed in.
“Members must at least have the capacity to be a Type A.”
“But what if they don’t?”
“Again, members must at least have the capacity to be a Type A.”
“Yeah, but…” Maria pressed.
“We think he’s saying they are also terminated.” Sara was glaring at Elder-1. She caught herself and looked away.
“Correct,” he said. “That is where our highly advanced medical tests come in. Fetuses are tested throughout the pregnancy process and if a serious disability is detected, the pregnancy is immediately terminated. If a disability develops after birth, the member is also terminated, unless they can at least function as a Type A.”
Maria’s face was bright red. “All of your fetus ‘tests’ could never measure the depths of someone’s heart, soul, or mind. I, fuck, we know that. We saw it firsthand with my autistic younger brother.”
“All the same, he would have been terminated.” He sounded dismissive. “Our member termination policy is quite clear and serves the overall good of society.”
Sara reached for Maria’s hand to try and calm her down, but she was too late.
Tears started streaming down Maria’s face, and her expression turned to one of rage. “You are black-hearted sick, bastards.” She swung her open palm at Elder-1’s face.
Sara gasped but caught Maria’s wrist just in time. She wrapped her arms around her and held tight. “Please, Maria, don’t.” Her voice conveyed her desperation. “Please...”
Maria finally relaxed her hand and let it fall to her side.
Sara pleaded, “Sir, she won’t ever do that again. She got emotional thinking about her brother. Please let it slide just this one time. She is so sorry.” Sensing that they had only a split second to push the pendulum, she gave Maria a firm shake. “Right?”
“Such behavior will not be tolerated.” Elder-1’s eyes were dark. “The risk of having you here may be too…”
“Sorry,” Maria offered weakly as she wiped the tears from her cheek.
Elder-1 did not react at all.
“Alright. Sorry.” Maria sounded a little more sincere. “It won’t happen again, Sir.”
Come on, let it go, Sara begged in her mind.
Turning his back to them, Elder-1 let Maria’s fate hang for the longest minute ever. “Consider yourself lucky that the numbers are what they are, as far as offspring production.”
Relieved, Sara let out a deep exhale. She also felt Maria’s shoulders loosen.
“And we are surprised that our psychological evaluations have not already identified these violent tendencies. We will take that up with Elder-76 as soon as we are done here, but we have full confidence that our conditioning will cure that,” he said with his back to them.
Elder-1 turned suddenly and stepped toward them. “But if we see such hostility ever again, you will be terminated on the spot.”
Maria pulled back as if shrinking, and then nodded her head.
“To continue what we were saying, with our member termination policy, we also terminate members with incurable or debilitating sickness. Our policy calls for the termination of anyone who does not contribute adequately to the system.”
“No exceptions to the rule at all?” Sara asked, still holding Maria’s arm and gently rubbing it.
“None. That was a lesson the old world learned the hard way. Catering to the exceptions to the rule, or the minority, can also burden and break down the system. And by minority, we are not referring to a racial or ethnic minority. So many rules, laws, and programs in the old world were established for the loud and manipulative minorities to which we are referring to, but such special treatment required vast amounts of resources and time. All the while, this caused the majority of people to be stressed, overworked, and to pay the bill, both literally and figuratively. With too many ever-growing minorities not contributing nearly enough to the system, the stress on society was becoming too much, and the societal equation was becoming more and more out of balance.”
“We are a little confused. Can you give an example from the old world?” She was hoping her question would further distance him from the member termination policy, for Maria’s sake.
“Off the top of my head, the 2035 federal School Security Act, which required a host of extreme security measures for all schools in America. Schools became as secure as Fort Knox. The cost and time involved was incredible, and why was that law passed? Because of a few incidents where unstable offspring became savage and lost control? The cost versus benefit was just not there. The idea of spending vast amounts of money and resources to save one life, or a minimal number of lives, was impractical. With the School Security Act, society as a whole paid, and would’ve continued to allocate enormous amounts of resources because of the actions of a few unstable individuals; the exceptions to the rule, the minority. This despite the majority, millions, of students passing through school halls every day without incident.”
“Guess that was kind of over the top,” Sara said. “We remember someone pointing out that if a student is that unstable, they will find a way to cause harm regardless of how secure a school is. If not in school, then they will do their damage at a dance or a football game or something like that.”
Heidi seemed surprised that she was agreeing with him. Sara shrugged.
“Exactly. It will not stop, and did not stop, such damage. Now, if they were all conditioned…” He looked at his watch. “The wo
rk period is almost over. Let us go while there is nobody in the hallway.” Elder-1 escorted the girls back to their rooms.
Back in her room, Sara sat on her bed and rested her cheek against her fist. That was a close call for Maria. She feared her friend would not last much longer before she said or did something to get herself killed.
Chapter 17
December 28, 2044
Wednesday, Early Evening
New Jersey coast, Utopia Project
Ship Number One
Two days after the event
Dinner for the girls was not until 7:00 p.m., but they were again allowed to eat together. After they finished, Elder-76 came to bring them back to their rooms. At this point, Sara was never sure who would escort them, but it is always either Elder-1 or Elder-76.
As they walked past a large room, Maria hesitated for a moment and glanced in the window. “Are they…” and then she cupped her hand over her mouth.
Elder-76 stopped. “Go ahead and look.”
Although she should not have been surprised, Sara couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The room was full of naked people, most engaged in some sort of sexual activity. The room had plush dark carpet and several couches and futons.
“A planned group sexual activity,” she noted, with her enchanting voice.
“It’s like a porn movie,” Maria countered.
“Not at all. No such negative connotations. These activities are very satisfying to the participants, as well as healthy. Every member has an assigned sexual activity period each week.”
“Are those birth control pills?” Sara asked. Inside the door was a metal tray containing pills for people to take as they came in.
“There is no birth control, and there won’t be for a long time, if ever. We want every female pregnant so our population will quickly grow. Remember, that’s why you three are still alive,” Elder-76 said matter-of-factly. ”The trey holds Viameen pills, which are sensitivity enhancers, and really make you tingle at every touch. They amplify the intensity of every sexual experience, which is helpful even with our production of offspring. When you are conditioned enough to participate, you will take them and understand.”