A Weed Among Wheat

In a brave new world, a resister remains bound by the past.

                A familiar whirring sound roused Lyra from her induced slumber. In the same moment that she opened her eyes she felt herself being lowered to the floor. Her feet touched the ground and a familiar voice came from seemingly nowhere, rumbling from the walls in a mysterious way that still sometimes startled her. “Good morning, Brothers and Sisters! Welcome to another glorious day in the Global Kingdom given to us by our wonderful creator, Ancient of Days. Morning devotionals will begin in 5 minutes.”

                Lyra padded across the spongey floor, specifically designed so even the clumsiest person could fall repeatedly fall and never get injured a precaution not lost on Lyra, over to the far corner of her enclosed living space. It was there that her day garment hung. A simple black smock with three broad stripes on each sleeve, whose colors varied per the Fatal Flaws of the owner. The stripes on Lyra’s garment were a deep shade of gray. Her crime was Defective Thought, a carryover from her pre-perfection life that had yet to be cured. As the rules dictated that she must, Lyra took a few moments to look at the stripes and reflect deeply on the stigma attached, though try as she might she could not muster any regret or shame. She slipped the garment over her head and fiddled with it until its’ hem hung down straight almost to her ankles before returning to stand near the spot where she had slept, just as the Communication Screen flickered to life.

                “Good morning again, Brothers and Sisters!” The beady eyes of this morning’s worship leader, Brother S., leered down at all through their respective screen, accompanied by a grin so wide it looked almost painful.

                In unison, though Lyra kept her voice as low as possible, everyone politely replied. “And a good morning to you, Brother S.!”

                “The faith building and uplifting song selected for us this morning is song 653.” Brother S. continued as the accompanying music began.

                Back in pre-perfection days, song books, handheld tablets, or tvs would have been needed to stream the words for members to sing along with. Such things were beyond obsolete now. In fact, they were unknown. All members knew all songs and prayers of praise to the benevolent Ancient of Days from memory thanks to the perfecting process that had awakened the other 90% of the human brain formerly inaccessible. Lyra did not feel the abundant joy and gratitude she was supposed to feel, but having no other choice opened her mouth and began singing. “We praise you, Most Ancient of Days. You have restored all to its’ former glory. Our eternal home is a true paradise, free from sickness and violence. Every day, more come from the pits Gehenna, restored by your unending mercy. Death, the final enemy of mankind, has now been defeated….”

                “Now, Brothers and Sisters. Let each one go off to his work and whatever his hands find to do he must do it with all of his might, so says the glorious Ancient of Days.” Brother S. ended the meeting and the Communication Screen went blank.

                Released to do whatever she liked, since the concept of work no longer existed in its’ true form and members were encouraged to spend their immortal lives engaged in a wide variety of activities, Lyra walked over to the wall behind the screen and began pushing an array of buttons. When she pushed the largest button, the walls of her living space vanished and were replaced by wild applause and excited people hugging one another. She was reliving a different time and place, something that more of than not, earned her invitations to appear before The Council.

                8 November 2016 A.D.

                “And the next president of the United States is….Donald Trump!!!”

                Lyra or rather Aleksa as she had been known then, had not voted in the last Super Tuesday that would occur, although she was a born United States citizen and was of age to do so. She and all loyal members of the then invisible kingdom had been in their local place of worshipped, completely unconcerned about which demon backed and controlled puppet would become the latest public face of the supposed greatest nation on Earth. Aleksa, a student at the local university in her early 20s with neurotic tendencies and suspected autism, had encountered The Truth by chance in her 3^rd year at the university and was soon mesmerized by it, so much so that her spiritual but necessarily religious mother had accused her joining a cult and frequently complained about her daughter’s regular involvement with the group’s activities.

                Gun shots rang out around Lyra as she watched what she had been blissfully unaware of all those eons ago. “At least five members of government have been ambushed in cities across the nation.” Ran people ran around in a panic desperate to flee the danger zone and yet not knowing where to go. It was mass chaos.

                Aleksa was nearly asleep in her chair after a long day of classes and her supper waiting as usual until after the meeting ended close to 10 p.m. when a cold chill shook her to her very core. The elderly woman who was her ride to and from the meetings also looked troubled. They both saw one of the congregation’s elders rushing up to the stage to interrupt the group study.

                “Now let’s all listen and remain calm now, Brothers and Sisters.” The red faced elder wheezed. “You are all aware of what is going on tonight…..well I have just been informed that the time has come. Our loving creator, as always, has given us the perfect plan for survival in his anointed word.”

                Lyra spoke as she watched the country she had been born a citizen of descend into chaos reminiscent of a second civil war. “Isaiah 26:10 ‘Go, my people, enter your inner rooms. And shut your doors behind you. Hide yourself for a brief moment until the wrath has passed by…”

                Hide they did. In small groups at various private family residences with the women and children tucked away safely in basements and closets guarded by the men even the very elderly ones. Across the world all loyal members of The Society did the same. Barricaded in and instructed not to open any doors, not even for Jesus himself, while they raised their pleading voices to their God and the profoundly broken world they had all been born into came crashing down around them.

                The walls of Lyra’s living space abruptly returned to their original translucent state. A sure sign that her divergent activities had not gone unnoticed. While she waited for the Communication Screen to turn itself on, she tapped buttons on the small bedside panel, making herself a nice warm nutrient drink. Some mixed and played around with flavors, endless combinations so a person could never complain about not having something appetizing to sip, but Lyra picked her concoctions with the goal of calming her always tightly strung nerves in mind. Lots of serotonin substitute and some lavender in a mint tea base. The selected drink in its’ insulated temperature controlled cup had barely materialized when the all too familiar whirring. Drink in hand she went to the designated spot and waited.

                “Good morning, Sister Lyra.” The grim-faced Councilor said briskly.

                “Good morning, Councilman.” Lyra returned placidly.

                “Your activities seem to suggest that you are not content with the abundant and endless meaningful work that our benevolent and infinitely wise creator has given mankind here in our restored eternal home.” The Councilor got straight to the point. “Your interest in the past is deeply troubling.”

                Lyra gave the appearance that she was listening. She often forgot that she could hide nothing in this new world. Her thoughts were no longer her own. When she remembered this, she forced herself to look up at the Communication Screen and really pay attention to what was being said to her. A part of her wished to know peaceful ignorance of eternal sleep, wished she had not survived to see paradise restored.

 “The Council of 12 requests your presence urgently, Sister Lyra. A decision has been made.”

                The Communication Screen went blank again.

                With a great feeling of peace, Lyra left her living space for what might well be the very last time.

Author's Note

What do you think of the overall story line?