Agenda 21

by Glenn Beck

  I could feel the pulse on the side of my neck, fast, fluttery. I got up, tightened the belt on my sleeping robe, and went to the door. He seemed even taller now. And so solid, his shirt was taut against his chest. A person of substance.

  “John asked me to check in on you. You don’t mind, do you?”

  I felt my face getting hot. I hoped he couldn’t see that.

  “No, I don’t mind. Not at all. I haven’t really talked to anybody all day.”

  “They’ll change that as soon as they can. They don’t approve of solitary living. It’s not efficient use of space.”

  “Do you want to come in?”

  “That’s forbidden.” He paused. “But I wish I could.”

  “Maybe no one would know.” I couldn’t believe how bold I was being.

  He stepped closer to me. Touched my cheek. Smiled.

  “I’ll try to after I make rounds. If the Compound is asleep.”

  He turned to leave, and then turned back. “Maybe we can pretend we’re going out on a date.”

  With that he was gone.

  I smoothed the wrinkles on Mother’s mat. Earlier, I had tossed my uniform shirt and pants on the sidebars of my board. Now I folded them neatly and put them on the shelf in the washing-up area. Glancing around in the dim light I decided that my Living Space looked neat.

  Then I sat down to wait.

  And wait. What were we thinking? David was right. Some things are forbidden. Gatekeepers are not permitted to enter anyone’s Living Space. Unpaired men and women were not to meet in private.

  But I didn’t care.

  Finally I heard the soft sound of his steps, saw his outline in the doorway.

  “Come in,” I whispered.

  He stepped a few feet into my Living Space.

  “Come in. Sit down.”

  “I better stay near the door. You know. Just in case.”

  I walked over to him.

  “What was the day-shift Gatekeeper saying about me? I saw him pointing to my Living Space.”

  “Oh, him. He was just reminding me that an unpaired female was in the Compound. As if I didn’t know.”

  “Are you paired?” I asked, and immediately regretted it. It wasn’t any of my business.

  “Night-shift workers cannot be paired because their partner would be alone every night. So, no, I’m alone.”

  I felt a silly sense of relief.

  “They aren’t going to let you remain unpaired for very long. You know that, right?” he asked.

  “Not another Jeremy, I hope.”

  “I hope not. John says there aren’t any available adult males ready to leave the Village. So I don’t know. Just have to wait and see, I guess.”

  He stepped closer to the doorway and listened. All was quiet.

  “You and John. You’re friends, right?”

  “He’s my father.”

  My head was spinning. John used to be our neighbor so that meant David used to be my neighbor, too. “You knew my family? We were neighbors?”

  Before he could answer, we heard the sound of someone crying out. A woman.

  “That’s Space Four. She has nightmares. I better go. Sometimes she wakes up and paces around.”

  With that he was gone, leaving me alone with even more questions than I’d had before.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The next morning I woke up and was met with a surprise. There on the counter was my nourishment cube, my water, and, beside them, a hard-boiled egg and a salt packet. And a sprig of flowers. Flowers! A long stem with little lavender buds, sweet-smelling and soft.

  The egg was cold and smooth. It felt like a promise in my hand. The egg was too perfect, too special, to crack open just yet. I put it in my pocket. Before I hid the flowers between my mat and the wall, I touched the feathery softness of the petals with my fingers and then gently held them to my cheek, moving them across my face, letting them linger under my nose. The smell was beautiful enough to make me feel dizzy.

  The Gatekeeper’s footsteps were coming closer. He stopped by my doorway and stared in, his nose small and sharp, his lips thin. My skin prickled. He tapped the stick hanging from his belt and then walked on. I went over and closed the door.

  I would have to tell David about this. It must be something to do with monitoring. Watching for infractions. I went to my board. I walked it step by step by step but my mind was full of thoughts. Voices and words tumbled together like a flock of birds, flitting from one thought to another, then flitting back.

  Remember all Mother taught me. Do what they can monitor. Father’s voice: Do what they tell you. Promise me. Promise me.

  My feet slapped against the mat, pounding, marching.

  Jeremy’s high, whining voice. I hate you. I hate you. So there.

  Then, comforting voices. Little teapot. Little teapot. Little teapot. Family is important. Promised your Mother. Promised. Promised.

  The needle was moving slowly. I walked faster and faster, trying to keep up with the voices, with how the words made me feel.

  Regret to inform you. Sorry for your loss.

  I was sweating. My uniform top was damp and clinging to me. Rivulets of sweat ran between my breasts.

  You can’t see your baby. Ridiculous.

  Mother reading from The Little Prince: So I lived my life alone, lived my life alone, lived my life alone.

  El-sa. El-sa.

  My face was wet. Was it sweat or tears?

  The needle kept moving.

  * * *

  Just before dusk I heard John at my window slit.

  “How do you get on the other side of the fence?” I asked him.

  “Sorry, that’s my secret.”

  “Tell me about the map. And Elsa.”

  “Best guess is that we’re in Pennsylvania, or Ohio, or West Virginia. But it’s just a guess. And I have something else to tell you. Listen carefully.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. I could see through the open door just enough to make sure the Gatekeeper was at his post. He was.

  “Are you listening? Look at me!” John tapped his hand on the window slit.

  Startled, I turned back to him.

  “The Authority has been trying to solve the problem of what they should do about you. Young female, reproductive age, no available partner.”

  “What will happen?”

  “It’s a secret. You can’t share it with anyone. Understand?”

  “I understand.”

  “They’re considering assigning you to the Children’s Village.”

  I caught my breath. Elsa! I must have said her name out loud because John said, “Quiet. Keep your voice down.”

  “How do you know this?” I whispered. I put my hand on the edge of the window slit.

  “I told Joan what you said. About her working there and you wanting to see Elsa and all of that. What you said made sense.”

  I held my breath, my chest tight, waiting to hear more, staring at him.

  “She put in a request for more staff. The Village has some problems that she’s worried about.”

  The trees behind him rustled in the breeze, green leaves fluttering.

  “She hasn’t heard anything definite yet. But I work Transport Team, remember? The Authority forgets that we are men. They act like we’re horses. So they talk and I hear. As long as I am in my harness, staring straight ahead, I am merely part of their vehicle.”

  “When will they decide for sure?”

  “I don’t know. But they’re discussing it.” He laid his hand on mine and left it there. “But pay attention to what I am going to tell you. If they come to you with this plan, listen quietly. Keep your eyes averted. Say something like ‘Thank you, sir, but I don’t know if I am qualified.’ ”

  “But I want to be assigned there.”

  “And they want to be in control. I guarantee you that if you say you don’t think you’re qualified, they’ll say they are the ones in charge of deciding who is and who isn’t qualified. If you act happy with th
e decision , they’ll get suspicious. They don’t trust happy people. We all have to be equally miserable.”

  I glanced out the door. The Gatekeeper was starting final rounds before the change of shift. “You’ve got to go. He’s coming.”

  “Promise me. Eyes averted. Act humble.”

  “Can I tell David?”

  “No! Not yet. Tell no one.” Then he was gone, a shadow moving into the woods.

  * * *

  David slipped through my doorway after he made his night rounds. I had pulled the flowers out of their hiding place and was holding them when he came in.

  “Do you like them?” he asked.

  “Of course I do! But what if you get caught? What would happen?”

  “Don’t ask. Don’t ask because I don’t want to spoil our time together. For now just know that I’m very careful. Did you like the egg?”

  The egg! It was still in my pocket. I pulled it out and began to shell it. The sharp little pieces of shell fell onto my lap. When I was done, I held it out to him. “Please share it with me.”

  He smiled and took the egg. I watched his mouth as he took a small bite. His lips were plump and soft-looking. He handed the egg back to me and I took a bite. He watched my mouth. I ran my tongue over my lips, savoring the morsels, savoring the moment.

  An egg had never tasted so good.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The next morning I saw bits of eggshell on the floor. I smiled as I swept them up, smiled even wider when I found another egg beside my morning nourishment cube. I would save it for tonight, when David came back.

  About mid-morning, when the sun was well above the tops of the trees, the clattering and groaning wheels of a bus-box stopped at the gate. I went to my doorway, wondering who might be coming to the Compound. It was the Central Authority vehicle. John was on the Transport Team. He stood tall and still, eyes straight ahead.

  Two Authority Figures got off the bus and spoke briefly to the day-shift Gatekeeper, who kept his eyes averted, even when he made the circle sign. Odd. They started walking toward me. I had already put on my headscarf and checked again that the flowers were tucked behind my mat. All was in order by the time they reached the doorway.

  The Gatekeeper lingered outside until one of the Authority Figures told him to return to his post. He made the circle sign again and walked away slowly, glancing back several times. Gossips, all of them. When he was back at the gate, the Authority Figures came into my space and motioned that I could sit down.

  My knees were shaking, and I was glad to be seated. They remained standing, looking down at me, deliberately not introducing themselves. Anonymous authority. I decided to think of them as Number One and Number Two. They both had mustaches, of course. And they were both tall. But Number One had a scar, a ragged red line across his left cheek.

  Number One spoke first. “Praise be to the Republic.”

  I repeated it, eyes down. The tips of my shoes were dusty. I wanted to rub them on the back of my leg to remove the dust but I was afraid to move. My hands were folded on my lap.

  “Citizen, as you know, unpaired reproductive females are to be paired as soon as possible. It is not acceptable that you are alone. That does not serve the Republic.”

  I nodded.

  “However, if normal procedures are followed, there are no available reproductive males at this time. This, of course, is beyond the Republic’s control.”

  How ridiculous he sounded. The Republic controls everything, but yet he says this is beyond its control. I kept my eyes lowered. I didn’t need to know which one was talking. They both sounded the same, with their deep, echo-chamber voices.

  “However, there are no cultural, economic, or social situations the Central Authority cannot address and solve.”

  “Praise be to the Republic.”

  “Praise be to the Republic.”

  The tips of their shoes were dusty, too.

  “Central Authority has developed an innovative and appropriate solution.”

  My hands were sweating. I wanted to wipe them on my uniform but instead kept them in my lap.

  “You have proven yourself capable of reproduction. Praise be to the Republic.”

  I repeated it yet again. My mouth was dry, and my voice was trembling.

  “The Authority has identified a reproductive male, a nightshift Gatekeeper who is not yet paired.”

  My heart lurched.

  “Normally, night-shift Gatekeepers aren’t paired because their partner would be alone at night, which is not acceptable. To address this issue, the Central Authority’s solution is this: you will be assigned as a worker in the Children’s Village.”

  “But, sir,” I said, “I don’t know if I am qualified.”

  “The Authority decides who is qualified and who isn’t.” His voice was harsh. Praise be to John.

  I wanted to look up. I wanted to watch his face. But I kept my eyes on my dusty shoes.

  “Night-shift Gatekeepers are often males incapable of reproduction. But a reproductive Gatekeeper has been identified.”

  Looking up, I could see the hairs in his nose and a wart under his chin. I couldn’t help staring as he talked.

  “You’ll be assigned to the night shift at the Children’s Village. He’ll continue as a night-shift Gatekeeper but will no longer reside in the night-shift barracks. That is until, and if, a day-shift position becomes available. If that occurs, your position at the Children’s Village will be reevaluated. This solution demonstrates the wisdom of the Central Authority. Praise be to the Republic.”

  I was so stunned that I couldn’t repeat the phrase.

  He didn’t seem to notice my silence. “You’ll be taken to the Children’s Village tomorrow morning for a general orientation. You’ll be introduced to your partner in two days, and the Pairing Ceremony will be public at the Social Update Meeting. Because of the historic nature of this decision, it will be celebrated by all Citizens.”

  There was a brief silence. I could almost smell the flowers hidden near my sleeping mat. Flowers from David.

  “You’ll continue to live in this Compound with your partner. You will not be required to walk your energy board while working at the Children’s Village, but you will be required to ride an energy bicycle there. One will be supplied for you. Do you have any questions?”

  Yes, yes, but I shook my head no.

  “Praise be to the Republic.” Circle sign.

  “Praise be to the Republic.” Circle sign. With that, they left.

  The bus-box lurched forward. John glanced over, and I think he smiled. The Gatekeeper looked over at me and then spit on the ground. Even for a Gatekeeper, he was a little man.

  When the road was empty, it felt like the air had been sucked out of my Living Space. Like I was in a vacuum. I paced. Back and forth, around and around.

  Praise be to the Republic.

  I was to work in the Children’s Village. In the Children’s Village with Elsa! This was too good to be true. But they had said it. I’m coming, Elsa, I’m coming. And I’d be paired with a reproductive night-shift Gatekeeper. It had to be David. It must be David.

  I wanted to run outside, feel the sun, look at the trees, touch the ground.

  Calm down. Calm down. Finish the board.

  Do what can be monitored.

  * * *

  Later, after his first rounds, David slipped into my Living Space.

  “How are you?”

  “Fine,” I answered.

  “I’m surprised you’re still here. I thought by now—”

  “I guess there are no available reproductive males.”

  I heard him take a sharp breath, like a wheeze.

  So it isn’t him, I thought. Or he doesn’t know. And I couldn’t say anything. I might be overheard, and I couldn’t risk ruining this.

  “I have the egg,” I said. And I began to peel it. “Where do you live? What Compound?”

  “They have a segregated place for night-shift Gatekeepers. Kind
of a barracks near the Children’s Village. We work twelve-hour shifts at night and we sleep during the day.”

  “What are the other night-shift Gatekeepers like?” I asked.

  “Kind of scrawny. Products of the Children’s Village, mostly. Younger than me, don’t like to work, whine a lot. Why?”

  “Just wondering.” I finished peeling the egg. “Here,” I said, settling the egg and the salt packet in the cradle of his palm. Our touch lingered. He raised the egg and took a small bite from its tip. The way he held my gaze as his lips closed over his teeth made my stomach feel floaty.

  I knotted my hands together and stared fiercely at them. “Tell me more about the other Gatekeepers.”

  “Another time,” he said.

  Then he kissed me. A soft, hesitant gift that tasted of egg.

  “I can’t stay,” he said. “But I want to.”

  “I know,” I whispered, my head fit into the hollow of his shoulder, my arms around his back.

  “The lady who has nightmares,” he said. “I found her wandering around the Compound last night. Sleepwalking, I guess. I have to make sure she stays in her own space. I asked her last night what she was looking for and she said, ‘My home.’ I walked her back to her space and she kept saying, ‘This isn’t it. This isn’t it.’ Finally, her partner came to the door and took her in. He asked me not to report her.”

  “Will you?”

  “Of course not. We’re supposed to report the unusual. She’s just a sad lady. Nothing unusual about someone being sad.”

  I thought of Mother. He was right.

  He kissed me again and went back to his post.

  David. A respecter of sadness.

  * * *

  The bus-box arrived the next morning just as I finished my morning cube. I was ready, headscarf in place. The day-shift Gatekeeper made a notation on his clipboard as I passed through the gate. I didn’t look at him, but I could feel him staring. Even though the sun was barely out of the treetops, the day was warm. John was on the Transport Team and was already dripping with sweat. We passed the squirrel-feeding station, piled with grain. Birds twittered from the trees and flew about freely, sometimes darting down among the squirrels to pick at the plentiful food. The sun filtered through the leaves. Surrounded by the sound of birds chirping and tweeting, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the balmy air on my arms, breathed deeply of the fresh, green smell of grass.