Blind Faith (23 page)

The campaign that Solomon Kentucky had described
began almost immediately. The Temple understood its
congregation and knew that it needed to act urgently to
channel the devastated population into the correct
emotional reactions. The nightmare that the nation had
gone through with two virulent plagues following one
after the other in quick succession had left people
genuinely traumatized. People were used to the pain
of bereavement, but each natural holocaust seemed to
grow in scale and the dull horror that had settled on the
nation had been in danger of turning to sullen anger.
There was no question of people openly doubting their
faith; the grip of the Temple and the fear of its Inquisition
were too strong for that. Nonetheless, as each child died
the blind acceptance of the spiritual status quo had
received a tiny dent, and it was these dents that the Temple
intended to hammer out with its message that
Miracles
Do Happen.

There were songs, concerts, fêtes, fun runs and endless
services, all aimed at remembering and celebrating the
lost children while looking with hope to the future, a
future which was of course personified in the smiling,
laughing, innocently uplifting image of Caitlin
Happymeal. The Temple knew its business and
somehow this focusing of the community's sight on
God's love for this one child diverted attention from the
unspoken question of his purpose in killing so many
others. No doubt there were many parents who secretly
asked the Love why
their
child could not have been
chosen to be saved, but if they thought it they did not
say it, for Caitlin's face had instantly become the symbol
of future redemption and nobody wanted to risk the
wrath of the Temple or of the Love himself by
questioning it.

The equation was simple. The Lord sent the plagues
because he was terrible and wrathful but the Lord saved
Caitlin Happymeal because he was gentle and loving.
'What,' as Confessor Bailey thundered from his pulpit, 'was
not to understand?'

As her fame increased, Chantorria became a woman
possessed. She began playing the part of the mother of a
miracle to the hilt, because she had convinced herself that
it was true. There were no more parties at her and
Trafford's apartment. As the madonna who gave birth to
an angel baby, Chantorria felt her spiritual obligations
keenly and began to spend more and more time either
praying at the local Temple or at the house of Confessor
Bailey. She took to wearing only white and carried a cross
inscribed with a Gaia symbol. She bought an expensive
pendant that featured all the signs of the zodiac and a
rhinestone halo which was supported on a wire headpiece.
She also dyed her hair golden.

Emboldened by the favour of the Confessor, she began
to treat Tinkerbell and her other new best mates more as
handmaidens than friends. She sent them on errands and
gracefully 'allowed' them to wax her and apply her makeup.
They scurried about to do her bidding but Trafford
could see that they were resentful of her arrogance and her
sudden piety. After all, most of them had lost children and
it seemed hard that Chantorria, who had been alone in the
tenement in not losing her baby, should then also become
so exalted a figure.

If Chantorria sensed their resentment it only made her
throw her weight about all the more. Perhaps it was the
years of being downtrodden but she made no secret now
of the fact that she considered herself a substantial cut
above the rest. After all, had she not been chosen?

Trafford of course knew very well that she had
not
been
chosen and he grew more and more furious. It was clear to
him that she had been flattered into
believing
that she was
a chosen one and he found his wife's naivety almost
unbearably depressing and ridiculous. In fact he found the
whole situation unbearably depressing and ridiculous;
here was a child who owed her survival entirely to a
science which the Temple despised, and she was being
used to further the cause of blind superstition. Every time
Trafford saw his daughter's face smiling out at him from a
video hoarding he felt more angry.

Slowly, relentlessly, an idea was growing in his mind
which could certainly in the short term prove an even
more effective tool of revolution than his planned Ev
Love campaign. It was to Sandra Dee that he first told
his idea. Trafford was later to reflect that it was her
romantic rejection of him which made him speak so
recklessly, which made him suddenly anxious to
act
so recklessly.

They were together on her little boat. It was the first
time she had agreed to their meeting alone since he
had introduced her to the Humanists and Trafford had
immediately taken the opportunity to tell her once again
that he loved her.

'Don't love me, Trafford,' was her reply. 'I don't want you
to love me.'

'Love isn't something you choose,' he said. 'I would
have thought you'd read enough stories by now to
understand that.'

'This isn't a story, Trafford. It's real life,' she said, 'crappy,
shitty real life and I don't want you to love me.'

'I can't help it.'

'Well, I don't love you,' she said, adopting her most
matter-of-fact voice. 'Really, Trafford, I don't love you at
all. I like you. I like you a lot . . .'

'Well then . . .'

'And if I'm honest I'll admit that perhaps I
could
love
you. But I don't and that's the end of it.'

'How can you say that!' Trafford protested. 'How can
you be sure?'

'Because I've decided not to.'

'Decided! You can't just
decide
about—'

'Yes, you can, Trafford,' Sandra Dee interrupted. 'That's
the whole point. You
can
decide. You
have
to decide. In this
world you have to decide about everything, if you want to
stay safe. If you want to stay
sane
, you have to decide. Love
is a risk. Sharing is a risk. Two people are exactly twice as
likely to give themselves away as one and to me those are
unacceptable odds, which is why I made my decision a
long, long time ago that I would never fall in love with
anyone and that includes you.'

'Why did you make love to me then that one time,' he
protested, 'if you knew you felt this way?'

'Would you rather I hadn't?'

Trafford avoided the question.

'But why did you?' he asked again.

'I felt like it. All that imaginary sex. It was hot. A girl can
get excited without being in love, can't she?'

'So you were disappointed, is that it?' Trafford said
angrily. 'You liked the fantasy stuff but I didn't live up to
my descriptive powers, right?'

'Oh please, Trafford,' she snapped, 'don't bring male ego
into it. We had sex, it's done. I never intended for a
moment that it would lead to anything further. You know
I'm a single girl. I've worked very hard to be one.'

'And you knew what I felt for you. How could you let me
make love to you knowing that I was
in
love with you and
that you didn't care at all?'

'Like I said before, Trafford, would you have preferred
that I didn't?'

Once more Trafford did not answer. Sandra Dee pressed
her point.

'Come on, tell me the truth. If I had said to you,
"Trafford, I don't love you and I don't want any kind of
serious affair with you, but I will have sex with you this
once," would you have refused? Would you have said, "Oh
no, I can't do that, not if you don't love me. It would be
just too painful afterwards"? No. Of course not. You would
have fucked me just the same. Admit it.'

The answer was obvious but Trafford would not admit
it. Instead he did what many unrequited lovers have done
and announced instead a grand gesture of self-sacrifice.
Perhaps she would be sorry when he was gone.

'Well,' he said, 'it doesn't matter anyway because I don't
think I shall be around much longer.'

'Oh? Are you planning to go away?'

'No. I'm planning to start a revolution.'

Sandra Dee was so surprised she laughed.

'What are you talking about?' she asked. 'What
revolution?'

'The Temple wants my daughter to be a beacon. Well, all
right, let her be a beacon. I will make her a beacon but not
a beacon of blind faith. A beacon of reason.'

Sandra Dee had stopped laughing.

'How do you intend to do that?' she asked.

'The emotional climax to the
Miracles Do Happen
campaign is to be a big Faith Festival at Wembley Stadium.'

'That doesn't surprise me. The Temple would have a
Wembley Festival to give thanks for a new line at
Burger King.'

'Yes but this is to be truly colossal, the centrepiece of a
nationwide celebration for the passing of the measles and
mumps plagues.'

'So?'

'My family is to be at the heart of it. Chantorria and I are
to present Caitlin Happymeal to the nation, live. They're
actually planning to rechristen her Angel, dedicating her
life to God. Think of it: they want to turn her into a baby
nun. They want Chantorria and me to hand our baby over
to God.'

'And what is it you plan to do?' Sandra Dee asked and
the worried look on her face suggested that she had
guessed where Trafford's thoughts were leading.

'At that moment when I'm called upon to testify to
Caitlin's deliverance, and before anyone can stop me, I'm
going to tell the entire nation that Caitlin is alive because
I had her vaccinated.'

Sandra Dee looked stunned. After all, what Trafford was
suggesting might very well be suicide.

'They will kill you on the spot,' she said.

'Well, revolutions are risky business,' Trafford replied.
Despite the seriousness of what he was planning, he
was also enjoying the drama of the moment and
the effect his words were having on Sandra Dee.

'What if they kill Caitlin?' she asked.

'Why would they? It wasn't her sin, she's an innocent
and I don't think even a Wembley crowd would stomach
Confessors killing little babies. I imagine she'll be
quietly fostered.'

'And Chantorria?'

'I'll tell them that she knew nothing about it.'

'What if they don't believe you?'

'She'll have to take her chances. Sandra Dee, don't you
see what this could mean? It's a unique opportunity to do
something truly extraordinary. To sow the seeds of doubt
in the minds of millions of people. The Temple itself has
made Caitlin famous with their ridiculous
Miracles
message. I can turn that message on its head! An opportunity
like this won't come again.'

'An opportunity to make yourself a martyr! Trafford,
you're asking to get killed! Why?'

'Why did anyone ever sacrifice themselves for a cause
they believed in? I think it's my duty.'

'You're doing your duty just by being a Humanist. You're
a living archive, an enlightened person who seeks to
enlighten others. That's your calling. That's your duty.'

'I have the opportunity to enlighten millions!'

'They won't listen anyway.'

'They will. I'll make them listen. I'll make them wonder
if their children couldn't have been saved too. I reckon if
I'm careful with the way I approach it on stage and don't
show my hand too early I'll get a good few minutes to
speak. I'll lure them in by talking about how wonderful it
is that Caitlin's alive. I'll even thank the Love and then,
before they twig what I'm on about, I'll tell them about the
vaccination. I might even credit God for that as well; that'll
confuse them. Think about it, Sandra Dee! What
Humanist has ever had such an opportunity to expose the
madness of the Temple?'

'And what Humanists will be left after you've done it?'
Sandra Dee asked angrily. 'They won't just kill you, they'll
torture everything out of you first. What about the library?
What about the others?'

'They'll never hear about the library because they'll be
looking for a Vaccinator, not a Humanist. I'll tell them
everything about the vaccination immediately. I'll hide
nothing. I'll give them every detail. I'll give it proudly, as if
to prove my point. Why would they look further?'

'You'll give them Cassius?'

'Well, I'll warn him first, obviously. He'll have to
disappear. If he's careful he'll survive, he's a resourceful
guy. Anyway I'm sure he'll agree that this will be worth the
risk. This is a chance in a lifetime to turn the Temple's spin
machine on itself.'

'What about me? We've been alone together. What if
they find that out?'

'Why would they? How could they?'

'There are CCTV cameras at the marina. There are CCTV
cameras everywhere.'

'Why would they pick up on that? We always arrive in
crowds. Nobody notices us down here. Besides, they won't
be
looking
, I tell you. They don't know about the
Humanists, they don't know about us. They'll be looking
for a Vaccinator and I will hand them a Vaccinator. I'll
guide them through my meetings with Cassius right up
until the trip to Heathrow when he did it. All that will be
on CCTV too. They'll be looking for Cassius all right.'

'And you will probably be burned.'

'Yes. I imagine I will be.'

Sandra Dee did not speak again for a long time. They sat
together, lost in their own thoughts, as the boat rocked on
its anchor.

'You really do intend to go through with this?' Sandra
Dee asked at last.

'Yes. Absolutely. I believe I have no other course in life.'

'If I'd loved you, would you still be doing this?'

'I . . . don't know. Yes. In the long run, yes, I think I
would. I have been ordered to stand on that stage at
Wembley and credit divine intervention with Caitlin's
survival. To give thanks to a stupid, vicious, capricious,
illogical, immoral, maniacal deity who clearly exists only
in the imaginations of idiots and bullies. I truly believe it
would be better to die than do that.'