Blind Faith (5 page)

Trafford hovered for a moment and then sat down once
more in silence.

'And for goodness' sake stop pretending that you're a
true believer,' Cassius went on. 'It's very boring.'

'I am a true believer,' Trafford protested, but he knew
that there was hesitation in his voice.

'If you say so,' Cassius said.

'Why have you asked me here?'

'I wanted to get to know you. I thought that perhaps you
might be a little . . . different, that's all.'

'We're all different; we're all individuals, unique and
strong, special and proud.'

'Yes, yes . . . but apart from that,' Cassius replied, and for
the first time it seemed to Trafford that he sounded a little
nervous, 'I mean
actually
different. I wondered if you had
any . . . secrets.'

Trafford knew instantly that his face had given him away.

'Please don't worry,' Cassius hurried on. 'You are not the
only one. I have secrets too. I have a very special one.'

Trafford shrugged as if to indicate that he was prepared
to listen but that he admitted nothing.

'You accused me of celebrating the kiddie mortality rate,'
Cassius continued.

'Yes, I did.'

Suddenly Cassius's eyes flashed with anger.

'Don't you think it's the government and the Temple
that celebrate it? Glory in it?
Do nothing about it?
'

'I try not to think about it at all.'

'Well, it's time you damn well did, Trafford!' Cassius
retorted furiously. 'And it's time you asked yourself what
you
are going to do about it.'

'What do you mean? What can I do? I shall pray and
we'll put lavender oil on her pillow and—'

'Pray?
Pray!
'

Trafford was astonished. He had never in his whole life
heard that word uttered in a tone of contempt.

'Did you know,' Cassius went on, 'that the diseases
which kill the children are preventable?'

What Trafford knew was that he should leave
immediately; the conversation was becoming more
dangerous and subversive by the minute. But he did
not leave.

'I . . . I know that people once believed that to be the
case,' he said, 'but we know now that it's not true.'

'It is true,' Cassius replied.

'How could you possibly know that?'

Cassius ordered coffee.

'Espresso,' he said loudly. 'No milk, no froth, no sugar
and absolutely no whipped cream or Jelly Tots.'

The two tiny cups that were brought to them were the
smallest cups of coffee Trafford had ever seen, scarcely a
thimbleful apiece, and the cups were made of china.
Trafford was used only to coffee served by the litre in
cardboard buckets.

'Cheers,' Cassius said, raising his cup with a forced smile
and adding, 'if I were a policeman and if by the most
extraordinary coincidence I happened to be watching now,
I would probably not imagine that a man who was about
to speak a blasphemy punishable by death would be so
boldly unconventional as to order an espresso and, what's
more, one with no candy on it.'

Trafford understood the point and also raised his cup,
grimacing horribly as he tasted its bitter contents.

'You'll get used to it,' Cassius assured him.

Trafford did not wish to discuss coffee.

'How do you know that there was a time when more
children survived?'

'Because,' Cassius replied, 'I am a Vaccinator.'

Trafford had heard of them, of course. A sinister secret sect,
who practised dark arts that could be traced back to
the Age of Lies. An unholy brotherhood who believed
in brutalizing children in the name of ancient and
discredited 'science'.

'You stick poisoned spikes into kiddies?' Trafford
whispered in horror.

'The word is "inoculate" and yes, that is exactly what I
do, when I can. If the opportunity arises and if I have the
vaccine available. Many big healthy families for whom the
Lord is given credit are in fact my work or the work of my
brothers and sisters. We seek out those whom we believe
may have the strength to think for themselves and help
their children to live. That is why I have approached you.'

'Why . . . why me?'

'I've been watching you for some time,' Cassius
answered. 'I told you, I sensed that you keep secrets.'

Trafford did not reply.

'You lost a child, did you not?' Cassius continued.
'Phoenix Rising, to tetanus?'

'Yes. Who hasn't lost a child?'

'You wrote about it most movingly. I archived your blog.

It was beautiful, I thought, though distressing. I presume
that you have no desire to suffer like that again.'

'You want to inoculate my baby?'

'It is my duty. I am sworn to save children. That is the
solemn pledge of every Vaccinator.'

'I should report you to the police,' Trafford said.

Everybody knew that vaccination was nothing less than
an attempt by man to deny God his prerogative over fate.
Treating illness with medicine was acceptable to the
Temple in that it was merely a reaction to God's work, but
the theory behind vaccination was that it was possible
to
anticipate
God's plan and to change it. To prevent
something ever happening. That was black magic, pure
and simple. Only God could know the future and only
God could
make
the future. Immunization, be it of a child
or an adult, was self-evidently an effort to restrict God's
options, to
cheat
God, and it was therefore unarguably
blasphemous. The Temple reserved some of its most
violent invective for those who followed this cult.

'You wouldn't be the first,' Cassius replied with bitterness.
'Many of my brothers and sisters have disappeared for ever
into the cellars of the Inquisition when their activities were
reported by the very parents whom they sought to help.
Some have been lynched or burned by the mob. Socially a
Vaccinator is an enemy of faith and may expect to be dealt
with as such. Interesting, isn't it?'

'Interesting?'

'Well, not dissimilar science is required in many legal
parts of what remains of medical practice. In implant
surgery in particular. What are anti-rejection drugs but
an immunization against tissue rejection? What is
cosmetic medicine if not an effort to pervert God's plan?
Yet beautification, as you know, is the moral duty of the
female of the species.'

Trafford shrugged. He was used to the myriad
contradictions of the Temple's teaching.

'It's all hypocrisy anyway, of course,' Cassius continued.
'My personal belief is that the elders of the High Council
use vaccination to ensure the survival of their own families.
They would not be the first despots in history to secretly
enjoy that which they deny to their subjects.'

'But vaccination doesn't work. It never did,' Trafford
protested. 'I've studied it enough to know that.'

'So you have looked into it then?'

'I've Goog'ed it. I admit that. And even Before The Flood
people started to realize that vaccination caused more
childhood problems than it claimed to prevent.'

'I agree, that's what they thought.'

'I've read articles on it. It caused everything from autism
to obesity. They rejected the practice even before the
Enlightenment. Before the Temple.'

'That's right. So spoilt were they in that happy time
when childhood death was scarcely known that in their
sloth and stupidity people turned away from vaccination.
By the time of the flood and the coming of the so-called
Enlightenment, even intelligent people had concluded
that there was something suspect about the process. They
were, of course, utterly wrong.'

'How do you know?'

'I have a feeling,' said Cassius, smiling. 'It's my faith.'

There was no answer to that. Feelings were always
legitimate. Even in the middle of a highly dangerous
conversation such as this one, Trafford's social instincts
meant that he did not wish to make Cassius uncomfortable
by challenging his feelings.

'Trafford, I save children,' Cassius said in a firm, clear
voice. 'I could almost certainly save your child. In the time
when inoculation was generally accepted, at its peak in
the third quarter of the twentieth century BTF, all society
understood its blessings and scarcely one child in a
thousand died in infancy.'

'It's a lie!'

'Now the figure is five hundred.'

'It's a lie. I've
seen
the figures, the statistics. I looked
them up. They're recorded, we have the information
handed down to us, and infant mortality was as bad in the
age of the monkey men as it is now.'

'I have seen the statistics too.'

'Are you saying they are false?'

'No.'

'I personally have never programmed a false statistic in
my entire career. Nor has any departmental president ever
asked me to.'

'With statistics it is never necessary to lie to get them
to tell you what you want to hear. It is only necessary
to reinterpret. Come on,' Cassius said, rising to his
feet. 'We've had a long lunch, we should return to work.
Even the designated old person is expected to put in an
appearance occasionally.'

Yet another office celebration was under way when Cassius
and Trafford slipped back into the room. A new team
member had just joined their DegSep unit and Cresta Fiesta,
a young girl fresh out of college, was being hugged in.

Everybody shrieked, everybody embraced the new girl,
everybody beamed. Cresta Fiesta babbled that she was
utterly made up to be joining such an incredible and
amazing crew and everybody assured her that they were
equally made up that she should be joining them. The
general conviction was expressed that this was the most
exciting and happiest of encounters and one that would
no doubt lead to lifelong friendships all round.

Hugging in was an important ritual at any new
encounter and it was a big mistake not to be seen to join
in enthusiastically. Rigid social convention demanded that
fervent, near-hysterical joy be professed at the endless
laughs and intense sharing of emotions that the new
relationship promised, and any individual's lack of
enthusiasm was seen as damaging the positivity of the
whole group and deeply resented. The entire office
therefore crowded round, hovering with arms stretched
wide, awaiting their chance to prove their emotional
openness and eagerness to big up the whole crew in the
name of the Love.

Trafford sensed that most of the assembled workers
would have been happy to allow the hugging-in to
conclude after everyone had had the chance to embrace
and kiss the new girl and emote fulsomely, but inevitably
Princess Lovebud had organized a cake.

'You're so
young
! You're a
baby
!' she exclaimed in her loud,
honking voice, made even uglier by the incongruous
assumption of her favourite 'little girl' character. 'Come here,
you. Come here right now, Miss Cresta Fiesta, and give me
another
hug
! Wanna hug. Need a hug! Got to have a hug!'

Cresta Fiesta did as she was told, stepping forward to be
enfolded in a close, bosomy embrace. There were cheers,
whoops and more applause.

'This is a happy crew,' Princess Lovebud continued
without releasing Cresta Fiesta from her crushing grip. 'A
happy crew and a strong, proud crew. We are all happy,
strong, spiritual people. But we don't hold with snobs or
loners, OK? We don't like false bitches either and we
don't mind telling them so. If you ain't real, you ain't
the deal. Right, babes? But that's just us, take us or leave
us because we won't change. Can I get a cheer here?'

Dutifully the circle of people, including Trafford and
Cassius, erupted into yet more whoops and cheers.

'Now I know a lot more about you than you think, Miss
Cresta Fiesta,' Princess Lovebud continued. 'And isn't that
a
beautiful
name by the way!'

There were more cheers at this, during which Princess
Lovebud and Cresta Fiesta squeezed and hugged like
lovers despite having known each other for less than
five minutes.

'Oh yes. I know you, babes!' Princess Lovebud shouted
into Cresta Fiesta's hair. 'Because I've Goog'ed you up,
girlfriend! Oh yes, I've Tubed you big time and let me tell
you now, girl,
I liked what I found
!'

'Oh my God!' the new girl shrieked, her mouth speaking
through one of Princess Lovebud's huge hoop earrings.
'You ain't Goog'ed me up, babes? You
ain't
! I'll
die
!'

'Yes, I did! I Goog'ed you up big time, babes! And what's
more I only went and downloaded some of what I found,
didn't I? So, listen up, Cresta Fiesta, babes, because this
is your life!'

'Oh my God!' Cresta Fiesta shrieked. 'Oh – my – GOD!'

'Remember your fifth birthday, with the cake on your
nose? How funny is
this
! This chick is
cute
!'

Princess Lovebud touched a key on her laptop and the
download of a five-year-old's birthday party appeared on
the video wall. Everybody cheered and once more Cresta
Fiesta shrieked in mock protest.

'Wait, wait, wait!' Princess Lovebud commanded. 'That
isn't the best bit! Here it comes.'

On the screen the little girl got cake on her nose and the
office erupted into cheers. There followed various shots of
Cresta Fiesta growing up. There she was having fun at
burger restaurants, riding her bicycle, numerous attempts
at karaoke, of course, and then all dressed up in a pink
bikini for her high school prom.

'Oh yes, little girls get bigger, don't they, Cresta Fiesta,'
Princess Lovebud teased, 'and what a very special prom
night that was for you!'

'No!' Cresta Fiesta screamed. 'You're never gonna!'

'I am gonna,' said Princess Lovebud as once more she
touched her laptop and brought up a video of two naked
teenagers making love. Cresta Fiesta shrieked and
screamed and buried her face in Princess Lovebud's
bosom while everybody clapped and cheered and
assured her that their Cherry Popper downloads were
equally embarrassing.

'You look lovely!
So
sexy, babes,' Princess Lovebud
assured her. 'I hadn't even had a bikini wax on the day I
got sorted out! Check it out on my Face Space page, babes,
I've done a montage, you'll die!'

Next came Cresta Fiesta's breast enlargement.

'I was only sixteen,' Cresta Fiesta explained in a serious
voice, 'but I pleaded and I pleaded and Mum let me have
'em done early.'

'Go, Mum!' Princess Lovebud screeched. 'It's such a
special thing when a mum takes her girly to choose her
first boobs.'

'I just knew it was right for me and I just wanted it
so
much! You know? Just to be as beautiful as I could. For
the Lord and the Love. As beautiful as the Love wanted
me to be.'

There was much applause and more whooping at this
and everybody watched the home video of the sixteenyear-
old Cresta Fiesta, unconscious on an operating table,
having her breasts cut open, the flesh stripped back and
implants inserted.

'At
sixteen
, people!' Princess Lovebud shouted, punching
the air. 'How much respect to the Lord is that! So come on,
girl, let's see them!'

The group whooped and applauded as the blushing
young woman lifted her tiny crop top, unhooked her lace
and satin brassiere and proudly displayed her naked
quadruple-D-cup breasts.

'They've really empowered me as a woman,' Cresta Fiesta
said, 'and taught me to love myself and to grow and
believe in myself and my Creator even more and give
him big respect.'

'Way to go, girl! Way to go!' Princess Lovebud shouted.
'Because remember! We are the face and body of the Lord
and when people look at us, they are looking at God!'

There were yet more cheers but this time they were
reverential; heads were bowed and amens said.

'Isn't that right, Sandra Dee?' Princess Lovebud added, a
nasty tone entering her voice.

All eyes turned to Sandra Dee.

Sandra Dee looked about twenty-five years old. She had
recently joined the team and had instantly become a
major target for Princess Lovebud's venom. In part, this
was because Sandra Dee had not had her breasts enlarged.
The Love had blessed her with only moderately sized
breasts and yet that was how she had allowed them to
remain. Technically she was within her rights to do this;
breast enlargement was not a legal obligation for female
citizens. It was, however, something that the Temple very
much expected of small-breasted women and it was
therefore shockingly unconventional to forgo it. In some
ultra-orthodox families, if a woman of slight figure did not
wish to have her breasts enhanced her male relatives
would impose surgery on her by force. Young women
would be drugged by their brothers, father, uncles and
cousins and then taken, while unconscious, to hospital
where they would later wake up with enormously
increased breasts, as befitted them as modest women.
These were called 'honour enlargements'.

Sandra Dee returned Princess Lovebud's angry stare but
said nothing. Trafford was impressed. Few people dared to
face out Princess Lovebud when she was 'on one'. Princess
Lovebud was fierce, she was radical, she was proud of the
fact that she took absolutely no shit and didn't care who
knew it. She was sorry, but that was the way she was and if
you didn't like it, deal with it.

'I wonder what the Creator thinks when he looks at you,
Sandra Dee,' Princess Lovebud continued in her most
sneering manner.

'We cannot know the mind of the Love,' Sandra Dee
replied quietly.

'Hallelujah!' said Trafford, punching the air.

All eyes turned to him. It was obvious that his interjection
had been made in support of Sandra Dee; on the other hand
it was not something that Princess Lovebud or her cronies
could object to, as a hallelujah was always appropriate.

'Hallelujah!' the group echoed. They were, after all, in a
hug circle and joyful praises must always be echoed.

'Praise the Love!' Trafford shouted, punching the air
once more.

'Praise the Love!' the group repeated and Trafford noted
that Kahlua, Cassius and one or two other, usually quieter
members of the group joined in with more than their
typical muted enthusiasm. Sandra Dee, on the other hand,
merely went through the motions, continuing to quietly
face down her tormentor.

Princess Lovebud was seething; she was not used to
being interrupted in full attack mode. 'Oh, I think we can
make a pretty good guess at the mind of the Love on this
one, girl,' she spat.

'Really?' Sandra Dee replied, raising an eyebrow.

Trafford was thrilled at her courage; nobody crossed
Princess Lovebud, ever. He had only interjected under the
guise of religious fervour. He thought about repeating the
gesture and offering up another hallelujah but he did not
quite have the courage. Most of the hug circle were staring
angrily at Sandra Dee and it was not healthy to emote in
an opposite direction to the majority. Once had been
acceptably ambiguous but twice would clearly be evidence
of disrespect. People who disrespected the mood of a mob
hate invariably turned out to be its next victim. All he
could do was look at Sandra Dee in what he hoped was a
subtly sympathetic manner.

'It seems to me, Sandra Dee,' Princess Lovebud shouted,
'that the Creator has given you a challenge and that you
are not rising to it, girl! He has given you a womb and a
cooch that you might be known as a woman and a
daughter of Eve and a sister of Diana who loves all babies,
but he wasn't so generous in the booby department, was
he, girl?'

'Well, I suppose I shall just have to live with it,' Sandra
Dee replied.

'Yeah! And the rest of us 'ave to live with 'em too,
eh! Except of course you don't
'ave
to live with 'em, do
you, Sandra Dee? You
choose
to live with 'em and it
seems to me that it's time you raised your game, Sandra
Dee! It's time for you to become the woman God wants
you to be.'

'I think God wants me to be me,' Sandra Dee replied
quietly. 'That's why he made me the way I am.'

There was an audible gasp at this. Trafford thought that
it might have been Kahlua but, whoever it was, they
gasped for the whole hug circle. Sandra Dee was in the
process of ensuring that her life would be a misery from
that moment on.

'Are you a practising lesbian, Sandra Dee?' Princess
Lovebud enquired viciously. 'Do you practise lesbianing?'

Princess Lovebud was following her usual bullying
method of random denunciation. Trafford did not
imagine that she had any evidence for such a suggestion;
lesbianism was, after all, a serious crime.

'No,' Sandra Dee replied.

'Well, in that case get some decent boobies, woman, and
stop insulting God and letting down the whole office!'

Sandra Dee did not reply this time, taking refuge in
silence. The mood, which had previously been celebratory,
was now tense and highly uncomfortable. Cresta Fiesta,
whose welcome gathering it was, clearly felt obliged to
say something.

'You've got lovely hair, Sandra Dee. Hasn't she got lovely
hair, everyone?'

'What a
lovely
thing to say, Cresta Fiesta, and so
like
you,' Princess Lovebud announced. 'And now – let's have
some cake!'

Trafford was most surprised that Princess Lovebud was
prepared to let the matter drop. Sandra Dee's failure to
buckle under the weight of her invective had clearly
thrown her. His mother had always told him that the way
to deal with bullies was to stand up to them, but since
standing up to bullies like Lovebud might easily result in
smear campaigns and denunciations to the Inquisition he
had never seen the theory put into practice.

Meanwhile the party cranked up another notch. The
large welcome cake was brought out along with boxes of
variously iced doughnuts and chocolate-chunk muffins.
Sandra Dee, however, simply returned to her desk to
resume work. This provoked looks of shock and outrage
from Princess Lovebud and her cronies. To refuse to break
cake with your crew was posh snob behaviour of the worst
kind, but Sandra Dee didn't seem to notice the violent
anger that she was provoking. As she passed him, Trafford
once more attempted to convey some level of sympathy
but she gave no sign of being aware of it, perhaps because
he had a mouth full of caramel doughnut at the time.