Agenda 21

by Glenn Beck

  They were yellowed, and some of the ink had smeared. They were in Mother’s handwriting. Recipes. Vegetable beef soup. Bread pudding. Ham and potato casserole. Pumpkin pie. Chocolate chip cookies. There were about twenty. I ran my fingertips over the old food stains.

  The very last card read: Dear God, I pray that someday I can again make meals for my family. Amen.

  Someone was coming. I quickly turned the mat over, covering the picture and the recipes. I grabbed my headscarf and went to the door. A bus-box was parked by the gate, and two Enforcers and the Gatekeeper were coming toward my Living Space. The Transport Team stood stiff and silent in their harnesses. I recognized John.

  “Citizen,” one of the Enforcers said, “where is Jeremy?”

  “At work,” I answered. “At Re-Cy.”

  “No, he’s not. His supervisor contacted us. Jeremy’s not there.”

  “I saw him leave this morning. On his energy bicycle. See, it’s not here. It’s not connected to the download bar.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “We’re going to enter your Living Space. We’re required to find him.”

  I stepped aside to let them come in. The Gatekeeper stayed outside.

  I went to my mat and sat on it to guard it. They mustn’t find my treasures. They mustn’t find what is in Mother’s sleeping mat.

  They opened the door to the washing-up area. They glanced into the eating space and the sleeping space. They checked the meter on my energy board. One of them glanced at the new energy cell on my thigh. When they were satisfied that Jeremy was not here, they stood in the doorway and frowned. One of them said, “This is a serious infraction.”

  And then they left.

  My heart was racing so fast that I could feel my pulse in my throat and hear it in my ears. I would walk my board and think of Elsa. My feet pounded against the rotating mat. The thigh strap felt tight, constricting.

  El-sa. El-sa. The marching band rhythm.

  Finally, the needle hit finish and I turned off the board. It was quiet in the Compound. Men had not yet returned to their Living Spaces from work. I didn’t know if Jeremy had been found.

  I put my headscarf on and leaned against the doorway, drinking the last bit of my morning water. The Gatekeeper saw me, I know he did, but he didn’t nod or smile or anything. Just stood by the gate as a bus-box pulled up with two Enforcers. John was still on Transport. Six men, three sets of two in harness, and he was on the right side, in the front. I wondered if the front row had more work than the back row, or if the middle row had the most work. They all looked hot and tired and miserable.

  The Enforcers approached my Living Space. I think they were the same Enforcers who took Mother away, but I couldn’t be sure. They’re hard to tell apart, with their black uniforms and mustaches. They have the same look on their faces, grim and determined, the same way of walking—striding, really. The same way of looking taller than they really are. I stood as straight as I could, shoulders squared back. I would not let these men make me feel small.

  I remained in my doorway as they approached. My hand fluttered to my headscarf, tugging it in place. I had fulfilled my energy quota. I had no reason to fear them. What else could they demand of me? What was left to give?

  “Jeremy has been located,” one of them said.

  I just stared at him.

  “May we come in?” Usually they didn’t ask permission. Something different was going on.

  “Yes. Come in.”

  The three of us stood in the eating space. I realized I was hungry.

  “He was found trying to climb the fence into the Children’s Village.”

  Stupid! He missed being taken care of. But to try to climb back in?

  “That was an infraction. You realize that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but it was Jeremy’s infraction, not mine.” My voice had the same sharp tone Mother used when questioned by Enforcers. I felt proud that I could talk like that, challenging them.

  “Correct.”

  “What is expected of me?” I asked.

  “At this time, nothing. Jeremy has been relocated to the farm co-op.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Or, at least, I think I raised my eyebrows. It’s hard to know what you are doing when the Enforcers are watching you. “The farm co-op?”

  “He can be a productive worker there,” said the Enforcer who was doing all the talking. “The Human Health Services reevaluated him. They found him, after all, too young to be paired but capable of farm work. Would you agree?”

  “I cannot disagree with the Human Health Services, can I?”

  “The official who initially evaluated him and found him mature has been”—he looked sideways at his partner—“dealt with.”

  The other Enforcer looked as if he wanted to smile.

  “In any event, Jeremy will not be returning. At the present time, there’s no reproductive male available to be paired with you. The Authority will make decisions regarding your future assignments. In the meantime, the Gatekeepers will continue to supply your nourishment cubes. The Gatekeeper sent this for you.” He handed me my evening cube and water ration.

  I nodded. “Praise be to the Republic.”

  We all made the circle sign.

  They asked which mat was Jeremy’s. I pointed to it and they took it. He wouldn’t be coming back and I wouldn’t miss him.

  Now there was just me and Mother’s mat. I was completely alone and I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Was this loneliness? Or was it just the absolute silence, the total grayness of this space? I wouldn’t miss Jeremy. Lonely or not, I had the things Mother had left for me. And there was enough daylight left for me to explore her treasures.

  So I did.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I propped the picture up against the wall so I could glance at it as often as I wanted. I left the recipe cards inside the mat and reached deeper, past them. My fingers probed back and forth until I felt something. Carefully, I pulled it out.

  It was paper, folded many times. A map. I unfolded it carefully because it was thin and fragile along the fold lines. One side was a map of the United States of America. All of the states were different colors. Maine. New Jersey. Florida. California. And more. A circle on top with the word north at the top, south on the bottom, east on one side, west on the other.

  I traced my finger along the line of the East Coast. Its dips and curves. That long piece of land at the bottom that hung down like a finger. Mother said that’s where the Relocations Laws were written, somewhere on the East Coast. Then I traced along the line of the West Coast. That’s where the first Relocations were done. The great vast blueness on either side of the coasts. Beautiful blue water. So much water. And we had lived somewhere in the middle. I scanned the center of the map but I didn’t know exactly where our farm had been.

  It made me sad to think like that. Where our farm had been. Maybe the farm is still there but it isn’t ours.

  I turned the map over carefully. On the other side was a map of a state called Kansas. Someone had drawn a circle around an area in the middle of the state near a lake named Wilson. Maybe that’s where we lived. Maybe that’s where Mother used to fish. I turned the map back over and found Kansas in the middle of the nation. Lake Wilson was just a tiny, tiny dot on this side of the map. How big the nation was!

  I looked up at the picture of Mother and me. Was it taken in front of our house in Kansas? Is that what the green grass looks like in Kansas? How close to the lake did we live? Had they ever taken me to the lake? I closed my eyes and tried to picture Mother and me sitting on the grass by a lake, looking out at the water, watching Father standing nearby, fishing.

  I was glad that no one could see me crying.

  I refolded the map carefully but it took me a couple of times to get it just right. I slipped it into the underside of the mat and then slipped the picture back in, too. The sun had dipped below the tops of the trees and the Living Space was dim. I went and sat in the doorway, looking out
at the packed brown common area. Where did I live now? Where, in this large country, was this Planned Community? Who would know? Who could I ask? The day-shift Gatekeeper was reporting off and starting the same ritual the Gatekeepers did at every change of shift. I have no idea what it involved, but I am sure it ended like all other rituals, with Praise be to the Republic and the circle sign.

  “Emmeline,” a voice said.

  John. I scrambled to my feet and went to the back window slit.

  “I’m here,” I said.

  “Good. I heard about Jeremy. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Are you?”

  “I guess. Jeremy was pretty stupid to try a stunt like that.”

  “He should have never been paired with you. Never. My wife knew him from the Children’s Village. She said he wasn’t mature or stable enough, that the Central Authority is pushing the children to reproduce and be productive before they are ready. She sent me to check on you.”

  “I’m okay. How’s Elsa?”

  “Growing.”

  “How big?”

  “Don’t know exactly. Just know that she’s growing. Do you need anything?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m getting my cubes and my water. The board is harder.” I could barely see John in the evening shadows.

  “I know your night-shift Gatekeeper. Let him know if you need anything. He promised to keep an eye on you to make sure you’re okay.” I remembered how John had helped me from the bus-box after Elsa was born and how glad Mother was to see him. I felt I could talk to him.

  “What about the day-shift Gatekeeper? Do you know him?”

  “No. And if I don’t know somebody, I don’t trust them. You’d be wise to do the same.”

  “John,” I asked, “did we used to live in Kansas?”

  “Why do you ask? Didn’t your mother tell you where we used to live?”

  “She told me some things but not everything. But I found a map.”

  “You found a what?”

  “A map.”

  “Where in heaven’s name did you get a map?” His eyes widened. He looked startled, maybe even frightened.

  “Mother had it hidden. But I found it.”

  “That’s contraband. What a find! Leave it to your mother!” He leaned his face even closer to the window slit. I felt the warmth of his breath.

  “But did we live in Kansas?”

  “Sure did.”

  “And where do we live now?”

  “That’s a good question. We were relocated without specifics. That’s what we were told. On trains with the windows painted black. Where’s the map now?”

  “Hidden.”

  “Can I see it? Maybe I can figure out where we are. I don’t know. Maybe Joan and I can figure it out.”

  “If I give you the map, can you bring Elsa to me so I can see her? Or take me to her?”

  “Emmeline, you really are your mother’s child. Your mother would be so proud of you.” He sounded proud of me, too.

  “I will give you the map. You figure out where we are. You bring Elsa so I can see her. Or, like I said, take me to her. Your wife works there. She should be able to arrange something, anything. And I get the map back.” I knew he could hear the impatience in my voice. I knew that what I was asking for was impossible, but I was desperate.

  He sighed. “Do you have any idea what you are asking for? How dangerous that would be?”

  “Do you want the map?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “No buts. Elsa is all that is left of my family. As you said, family is important.”

  “So is staying alive, Emmeline.”

  I didn’t say anything. A chill ran down my spine like cold fingers. I stood there on my tiptoes, looking out of the window slit. It was getting darker.

  “Give me the map. I’ll try to figure something out. But I can’t promise anything.”

  I pulled the map out of the sleeping mat and held it through the window slit. My arm was shaking. He took it and squeezed my hand, steadying my tremors. How warm and strong his grip felt.

  And then he was gone.

  I slid the picture of Mother and me back into the sleeping mat and lay down on it. The smell of her was fading and I buried my face against the fabric, trying to keep it alive.

  A sound pulled my thoughts back to the present—that shuffling sound of shoes on dirt. The Gatekeeper making rounds. The footsteps paused by my doorway, and I bolted from the mat and went to the door, opening it just a bit.

  “Hello?” I whispered. John said I could trust him, but, still, this was unexpected.

  “Hello,” he whispered back. “It’s very unusual for the Central Authority to allow a female to live alone. Very unusual. They weren’t prepared for the move what’s-his-name pulled.”

  “Jeremy?”

  “Yes, him. He was a brat, wasn’t he?”

  “What do you mean?” The way he said it, though, described Jeremy perfectly.

  “He was always mouthing off to me. Always saying he was going to report me for this, that, or the other. It would have all been lies. Anyway, you say you’re okay?”

  I opened the door wider and stepped out into the cool night. “I’m fine. Really I am. And thank you for the egg.”

  “My pleasure. Dusk-to-dawn shift workers get a hard-boiled egg for middle-of-the-night nourishment. But I thought you needed it more than I did.” His voice had a kind sound, gentle and smooth.

  “What’s your name?”

  “David. I know yours, Emmeline. Nice name. I bet they move you somewhere else soon as they figure out what to do. But I hope not.” He touched my shoulder as he passed by and said, “Sleep well, Emmeline.”

  The second human touch in one day. And for a brief moment I was not alone. Then he was gone, making rounds, disappearing into the darkness of the night. I laid my hand where he had touched it and let my fingers linger there before I turned and went back into my empty Living Space.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The next day was long. It had rained hard all morning, making the common area muddy and dank. Even inside, everything felt damp. The sidebars of my energy board were cold and slippery.

  The day-shift Gatekeeper didn’t make rounds but stood huddled in his rain poncho by the gate. No bus-box went by, probably too muddy for the Transport Team to make it over the path.

  I wished I had one of the books Mother used to read to me. If I had one, I could prop it up on the front bar of the energy board and read while I walked to make the time go faster. With no one to talk to, I wished John would call out to me from beyond the fence. But no fool would be out under the trees in this storm.

  Afternoon was even worse. Thunder rolled in, ominous and loud, with dark clouds ripped open by lightning. I got off my board, afraid that a bolt would zip through the metal and send its unimaginable surge of energy through my body. Mother had always warned me about lightning striking metal with more energy than we could produce in lifetimes of walking the board.

  I curled up on Mother’s sleeping mat, waiting for the storm to pass. I slept a bit, and when I woke, the clouds had brightened from iron to silver. Sun filtered through the window slit onto my face. It felt so good, so warm, so . . . I don’t know, hopeful.

  I went to the doorway to feel the sun on me. Above the trees was a double rainbow, crystal clear, with strong colors. The inner rainbow, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. Mother taught me “Roy G. Biv” to remember the colors and she made up a rhyme:

  A rainbow is named Roy G. Biv

  To remember the colors and the joy they give.

  The colors in the outer rainbow were reversed. I didn’t have a poem for that.

  I still had to finish my board. So I did. Do what they can monitor. The needle moved slowly to finish. Crept, really.

  The Gatekeeper put my nourishment cube and water in the box and left. I was certain, now, that he was the Gatekeeper when we lived in the Transport Compound. I also knew that John was right when he said not to trust
him. I would wait until the change of shifts before going back to Mother’s sleeping mat to look for more treasures.

  It was almost dusk when David arrived at the post and spoke to the day-shift Gatekeeper, who pointed to my Living Space. Finally, they made the circle sign and David took over.

  It was time to explore deeper, reach deeper, into Mother’s mat. I pulled out the picture and propped it against the wall. I was developing my own little ritual, and it gave me comfort. Reached past the packet of recipes, deeper into the mat, as far as my arm would go without tearing it any more.

  Something firm.

  Smooth.

  A book. The Little Prince. My favorite of all the ones Mother used to read to me. I remembered that the author’s name was strange. Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. Mother said he was French. I liked that book the best because of the pictures. When we still had paper, I tried to copy them—and there, when I opened the cover, I found a picture I had drawn tucked inside. The one of the Little Prince looking up at a star. Underneath I had copied the words from the book: He fell as gently as a tree falls. There was not even any sound.

  Mother had saved this for me. There had to be a reason. Perhaps she believed that someday I would be free to read it again.

  It was too dark inside to read anymore. I slipped everything back into the mat and went to the doorway. David was by the gate. So tall, with broad shoulders, narrow hips, long legs. His dark hair dipped over his forehead and perfectly framed his firm jaw. He gave a little wave without raising his arm, moving only his fingers. I smiled and gave the same secret wave. Perhaps later, when he made rounds, we could talk briefly. Or when he brought my breakfast cube. The thought gave me comfort.

  I had trouble falling asleep because of my earlier nap. And Mother’s mat was getting lumpier as I moved the hidden treasures around. Over the years they must have formed their own little places, molded into the mat, but I had changed that, rearranged everything.

  “Emmeline.” A whisper filed in through one of the window slits. “It’s me. David. I’m outside your door.”