Beaver2416 (Reviler's Affray) (18 page)

“I’m sorry… I cannot tell you that. Maybe soon, I will be able to--however, that decision is truly up to you. Also, before you ask--I cannot tell you your real name. That is something reserved for a time pre-ordained, that I do not know as of yet.” Morgan stated and again sat at his Lev-desk.

“
You are not making any sense! None of this makes any sense
!” Beaver out cried with his head in his hands.

He felt frustrated and mad--along with great confusion that made his head spin.

“But … you are here, which is an impossibility according to the Academy powers. We do not exist, yet you see us. Why would it be any more difficult to believe in something else that has been labeled as ‘impossible,’ than what you have already experienced and seen with your own two eyes? You have a great decision to make …” Morgan again stated with authority.

This thought made Beaver’s head swim in a vortex of dogmatic unfamiliarity. All of these ideas and phrases told by Morgan and Bobble were macabre to him. They were the very gospel of death, in the eyes and ears of countless hordes of Acad-soldiers. To him, all that had ever surrounded their utterance was annihilation. They were abomination to everything that he had been taught and beat into him. Beaver however, knew that Morgan was right. It was all a singular decision that he had to make:

To accept everything and make it his own, or forsake everything that he had seen and experienced.

To embrace this new ideology, meant changing everything that he knew as normality. It meant risking his own life and taking new chances--much more than hiding a dusty book in a corner. He literally had to be willing to lay down his life for others. This one thought scared him the most. He had seen so much destruction and wretchedness throughout his existence. The Academy was merciless towards any non-conformist. All of a sudden, Beaver mused about his span of torture at the reformer’s camp.

Why would all these old sentences they keep saying, be worth risking more torture
?—Beaver contemplated. He suddenly had many doubts if the many foreign words and phrases that had been relayed to him on this Decision day, were truly worth anything at all. 

What would make it any different? How could this group and their hidden religion make my life any better?--
Beaver deeply thought to himself. 

He then, remembered all of the people from the first time that he came to the complex. Each one had either greeted him directly with handshakes and nudges, or at the very least given him a smile and a head nod. They did not run in fright, nor were they afraid of him. It was if they were glad to see him, like he was a distant friend who had come for a visit. They were all happy--genuinely happy.

All the Academy could ever dole out is misery and more hardships in the name of their false god

--This feeling of goodwill intrigued him.

“If I make this
decision
, as you say …
what is in it for me
?” Beaver said with a slathering of selfishness.

“Eternal life.” Morgan quickly returned.

“
Do you mean freedom from infusions
?” Beaver inquisitively asked.

“No, eternal life as in
eternity… forever
.” Morgan again returned, with a glow.

Beaver mused upon his puzzling statement.

“
Why would I want to live forever in such as dismal and rot-gut world as this
?” he barked.

“No Beaver--
not here
. In a place without fears and worries. A place without Academies, weapons, and torture. A place where Jesus lives and your father dwells--It’s a place called
Heaven
.” Morgan said, as he arose from the Lev-desk and approached Beaver.

“And … you can go there as well. The secret is--
you have to die, to live
.” He calmly said, as he laid his hand upon Beaver’s shoulder.

Inside of his sociopathic heart, there was a Great Conflict stirring. He truly longed for freedom and such love, as all the people had showed him. However, he was very afraid. This turbulence of scarred emotions made Beaver squirm and toss about in discomfort. He wanted what Morgan and Bobble were saying, but his darkened mind kept saying “
NO
,” like the fury of the lash. He wanted to run away, yet his feet prevented him. He wanted to fight, but his hands would not cooperate. He wanted to scream, but his tongue couldn’t move. His core being was warring against itself in a munitious battle for supremacy. Beaver trembled with feeling, and his eyes began to well as flooded pools, standing ready to flow. With his cascade of sentimentality at its apex, he suddenly relented and surrendered to all that he was told.

“
How might I die to live? Please tell me …
” Beaver pleaded, with a river of tears.

Morgan and Bobble then surrounded him, and began to speak many words as before.

Beaver could only close his eyes and cry profusely. He could no longer control any of his darkened inhibitions. He suddenly let go of himself and raised his hands into the air. He didn’t know why he did so, other than he felt that he need to reach out, and release everything held tightly inside. As they prayed together, Beaver’s heart and mind began to metamorphose into something deeply unknown. For the first time in his life, he was letting go of something.

He felt as if it were now alright to fall…

to feel…

to care…

to love.

His tears fell like streams of pure water, into a churning spillway of forgetfulness. His heart burst forth with the newness of life and he could feel the presence of God.

“
I CAN FEEL! … I CAN FEEL
!” Beaver cried forth with the pangs of a new birth. He could not stop his crying, as his being was overwhelmed with the joy of holiness.

For the first time, he
cared
--he
actually cared
.

“
MORE! I WANT MORE! I NEED MORE
!” Beaver screamed with delight as a drunken man, demanding another round.

Morgan and Bobble were also filled with joy and had tears flowing from their eyes. “There is more …
much more
--follow me.” Morgan gleefully said, walking out towards the infirmary.

Bobble grabbed Beaver from behind and led him. He could only stagger about, as his mind and heart were overjoyed with emotion. The people standing around began to clap their hands and had whoops of gladness. Many of them began to follow after Morgan as well. 

He led them into an alcove that was tucked away behind of the infirmary.   There in the center, was a natural hot spring filled with water. It thrashed and bubbled about much like Beaver, as he was still in a stupor. Morgan entered into the pool without hesitation and then motioned for Beaver to enter as well. Bobble led him down into the pool and then quickly exited. Beaver could only smile, as he didn’t know what was about to happen.

“We are all gathered together, here with Beaver2416 on this joyous day, as he has made his decision to enter into a new life with Jesus Christ.” Morgan said beamingly as he looked around at the crowd.

“Beaver … what I am about to do is something that your father did, as well as the early church and the Apostles did--as it is written in Matthew’s and your father’s bible. Beaver2416--do you confess Jesus Christ as your Lord, your God, and your Savior?” Morgan paused looking into Beaver’s eyes.

Beaver suddenly broke from his holy incapacity, and had a look of raw determination come upon his face. This moment was for his father, Matthew, and everyone else who gave their life for the cause of Jesus. He was doing it for them, as well as himself. It was to him a proclamation that from this moment on, he would not live or die in vain. He would never again succumb to the whims of the Academy or the false Great Master. But rather, with honor; proclaim to others this holy gospel of freedom, regardless of whatever it may cost. His eyes brightened with life and he bellowed from the very depths of his soul.

“
YES--I DO!
” Beaver reverberated in a loud voice that echoed throughout the crowd.

Morgan could not help but gleam brightly as he continued.

“Upon the confession of your faith before God and man, I duly baptize thee, into the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of your sins.” Morgan proclaimed with great authority, as he lowered him into the waters.

Beaver seemingly leaped forth from under his watery grave, and began to dance about in the hot spring. All of a sudden, he too spoke many words like Morgan and Bobble. It was as if someone else was speaking for him, as he could not control his lips. His hands were raised in joy, and many of the people began to do the same, as they rejoiced together with great gladness. Musicians with primitive instruments appeared through the sides of the alcove, and began to play strange hymns of the former time. Workers in the fields stopped everything and also joined in with their children and wives. It was to all of them, a time of abundant triumph; a day of enormous jubilation.

Beaver2416 … The son of Robert, the minister of God; had finally come home.

Chapter 14:

The new light, again shone through the small porthole window of the sleep chamber. As the vessel whirred into its upright positioning, Beaver reluctantly arose. He was still euphorically high from his grand experiences yesterday. He wanted to so badly stay in the underground complex, but both Morgan and he knew, that action would put everyone in jeopardy. A Westbrookian Hachiman with the level of clout that he had, would not be easily dismissed. They would scour under every rock throughout Westbrook and Stowelowly, until their secret was discovered and everyone, including Beaver was destroyed. He knew far too much about the Academy’s movements, procedures, and their technology--such as the Kino-lev to be forgotten. In short, Beaver was far from expendable, he was
dangerous
.

His autostraps loosened and he was met with the same tired greeting as always. Before, it was met with a hint of pleasantry; but now it simply agitated him. His eyes were now fully opened and he could see with great clarity. He could feel, now more than ever; that this mechanized world surrounding him that was created for a false master was nothing more than a prison. And in this fabrication, he was nothing more than another incarcerated dweller. He hated the Academy and all its sadistic glory and ideals, more so today than ever before. However, deep in his heart he somehow felt sorry for everyone, even the Elites. As if all the masses were unsuspecting victims, of something they could not control. This new feeling inside was so strange and mysterious to him.

After his conversion, Morgan told Beaver many more things, before he had to find his place on a passing transport to Westbrook. Why certain things were not relayed until that time, was simply because he would not believe them. Or, at least he would still have inner doubts about them. A mind and heart filled with doubt and speculation was something they could not afford to reveal their secrets to.

Morgan told the story of Harvey Damron and how he came to be the Great Master. This Beaver already knew in detail, as it was drilled into his head from the very moments of his capture. However, what he did not know was; every address, plastered on every progscreen throughout all the Acad-lands was a holographic lie. The G.M. had been dead for at least 10 spans, and these proclamations were nothing more than severely edited, archived materials. When he told him that, Beaver could only smile with a beaming glow. Beaver knew it was unquestionably true, because he had made the connection spans ago. This was due to the fact, he figured out that the G.M. would always wear the same seven outfits.

The Academy of course, would digitally alter their potentate’s clothing--move a pocket from the left to the right, change a shade of color--but Beaver knew it was the same. His sociopathy had given him an acute attention to details. Plus, seeing someone three times a day, (except for decision days) made for an easy time to notice any non-conformity.  He had never told anyone of what he had discovered, not even Michael. If ever he could ever fully expose these facts, of both the G.M.’s death and their constant broadcasting of lies; everything that the Academy held in their grip would suddenly come crashing down. 

“
Good light to you Beaver2416! There is your lightfast … enjoy
!”--The victual android stated.

He had finally made it up the hallway, after all his usual, boring morning rituals. This light, the small countertop bore for him a waffy bar. The sight of this scrunched foodstuff made Beaver giggle inside. Waffy bars were nothing more than protein-laden candy, in a small ingot formation.  To see such a non-protocol item before him at lightfast, was perceived as a hope that the victual android was becoming more like Morgan’s Verb-bot.

Maybe Viki found Jesus too
--Beaver laughed to himself.

As he sat on the uncomfortable stool and chewed his sticky delight, Beaver suddenly had a profound thought. Soon, it was going to be the lightmorn address, and he had to salute the Great Imposter on the progscreen. This was against everything that he had learned from Morgan and Matthew’s book. Also, it stood as a contra position to all that he felt deep within his heart.

What am I going to do
?--Beaver thought hard, as the glib smile left his face. For him to refuse was death, and every ounce of potential he had with it. But for him to conform; felt as if he was betraying the true God himself. Just then, he remembered one of the scripture texts that he heard from Verb-bot. Peering into space, Beaver could not help but vocalize the very first word—

“
One
…”

Just then, the android turned around and stated with a stern voice—

“
Yes … ONE! You are only getting ONE!
”

Beaver could not stop from smiling.

“Yes Viki … I know. Thank you for everything.” he said calmly, quickly realizing what he was going to do about the morning address.

The android slightly shook with awkwardness, not knowing how to process his calm demeanor. It suddenly poured another cup of synth-fee for Beaver and returned to its work without a single word. Beaver had to greatly restrain himself from letting go and laughing out loud.

As expected, before he could eat all of his Waffy bar, Academicis meis, mi Adoráte began to play and the progscreen turned on. The victual android spun around and lifted its mechanical arms in the air. Beaver did the same, only this time it was slightly different.

He turned slightly from the vantage of his robotic warden. Then, with his right hand he fully extended his index finger. In Beaver’s mind this was an act of defiance, signifying one true God; rather than giving any glory to the false hologram on the progscreen. Beaver’s face hardened towards the G.M. as he spoke. More than ever, his heart was filled with seething hatred towards worshipping falsehoods. His one finger extended meant that he would never fully conform or believe in anything that the Academy told him ever again.

“
TO HELL
with the Great Master!
TO HELL
with the Edict!”–

Beaver screamed in his mind as he glared incessantly. He felt as if he was standing before an ancient idol of stone or wood, and being urged at knifepoint to prostrate himself in obeisance to it.

“
I WILL NOT BOW
!” He screamed again in his mind.

Beaver exhaled in release as the progscreen again turned black.

“SdotG” The android called, and then turned to look at Beaver.

With a stiff lip he muttered, “
SdotG
” and lowered his hands, hiding his conduct of treason with it. However, he slowly smiled as he returned to his Waffy bar. To Beaver, “
SdotG
” had rapidly morphed into something else. Instead of the tired line—

“Strength, Discipline, Order … my word is Truth, my word is God;”

It suddenly became in his mind—

Somebody Doesn’t Obey The Garbage
.

This idea pleased him greatly.

With his victuals devoured, Beaver ran and leaped past the threshold of his house to the pathway below. There were several people walking, who suddenly jetted out of the way at such foolishness. They seemed startled and afraid that he would knock them over. Beaver could only smile at their rude looks and head-shaking scoffs. He seemed giddy, like he had never felt before. This light, he felt as if he could conquer the world without a single regard for the Academy. However, there was something in his heart and mind that called for restraint, for the sake of his new friends.

“
I need to act defeated--just like before
.” Beaver whispered to himself. For him to walk slumped and with a melancholy of servitude, was now going to be very hard to do. His inner chains had fallen, and with them; his internal sense of brokenness and humiliation. He was no longer an Acad-slave. He was no longer their stooge to control. And, to suddenly re-obtain those shackles post facto was going to be his greatest acting role ever.  

Beaver pushed and shoved the crowd, clamoring to snag a seat on the current transport. He forced his way to the middle and took a seat. Then, he turned with a ghastly sneer at the people standing idle, still hoping to get on. He wanted to say “
I’m sorry
” to all of the ones he pushed, but that would be very out of character for him. To do anything abnormal could cause an alert in someone’s mind, and for Beaver it was suicidal. There was still a long-standing reward for any information regarding a resistance or fringe group standing against the Edict. Also, with the recent robbery at the Archive of Fact, people had their eyes and ears open to everything, standing ready to pounce. Much more than the showering of GP’s, there was that prevailing dream of having one’s status reconsidered and possibly becoming an Elite. He had to be careful and think hard about every action he made, with each passing tict.

As the transport made its usual trek, Beaver was engrossed with the consideration of what he would do about his workjob. His stature was hulking, and he was feared among the workers of Perpetua. For him to project anything different than a corporate owned savage could mean his annihilation. This mind-numbing thought held him captive all of the way to Stowelowly. Then suddenly, he felt a hand touch his. He quickly snapped back into reality, realizing that it was Bobble.

“
S2 E10
…” Bobble quickly whispered, and then turned his attention towards the other passengers. This time he had crunchy Muni-stems to sell. Which are harvested and manufactured from only the finest, listeria-rich septic botanicals. He had obviously gotten them from a local source of waste. This was because they had not been washed or prepared, still covered in blackened mire. The patrons on the transport quickly began migrating to the other side, to escape the stench, lingering in the air. As Bobble continued his barker spiel, trying to coerce someone into coming towards his wretchedness; Beaver thought hard and soon dismissed his puzzling, whispered statement.

Either it was a coded message that would be solved later… or Bobble had eaten much of his wares--
he thought with a giggle.

Soon, the transport slowly started up again. Bobble continued to play his part, ignoring Beaver and looking for the next unsuspecting passerby to annoy. As the transport finally sped away, he found himself again in a mode of contemplation. Now more than ever, he didn’t want to hurt anyone. The thought of breaking bones or causing another intense pain, sickened him greatly. He always knew that he was merely the Academy’s chump, and only bent to their will for his own survival. But now, his heart pulsed with feelings of empathy and regret. He certainly did not want anyone to be writhing in agony at Parliament, as he had caused so many others to do. His mind flashed with all of the random faces of the people that he had played a part in destroying. He felt somehow responsible, as if there was something that he could have done differently. However, there was another side of him that knew he was just as caged and controlled as they were, languishing with no way to resist.

After a few moments, the crumbling Arena came into the far-cast gaze of Beaver2416. His thoughts suddenly changed from contemplation to sorrow. He thought again about all the horror that Bobble had told him, when they were in the caves. To endure such abhorrence and absolute enmity, simply because you choose to believe in something different; was beyond evil. It was worthy of the lowest hell.

Before his joyous reclamation, Beaver learned from Morgan of a
final judgment
--a time in which everyone who ever lived would stand before their creator, and give an account of all they did in their lives. He also said that, only those who in life had surrendered, turned from their evil, and were
washed in the water and the blood
could escape such a final analysis without retribution.  Without a clear understanding, Beaver still believed every word--he had to believe. Everything inside, to the core of his very soul; compelled him to believe. To live and die, inflicting such abomination upon people and never having a single drop of punishment for your un-repented deeds, was to Beaver; far, far worse than the horrid deeds themselves. To him, the Arena and all that was done there, was a testament to such ideology.

“
Last stop--Bona Fide. Please exit promptly
…” the robotic driver stated.

Its call startled Beaver and seemingly brought him back to reality. He had been so enthralled in his thoughts that he did not realize how far he had travelled. He suddenly jumped to his feet and made a quick exit, like a child caught doing something naughty. Weaving throughout the people, he bounded speedily up the stairs, into the offices of Perpetua. 

“Beaver2416 … Yoo Hoo!”

--the same aging Elite from last time (Beaver still doesn’t know their name) said with an outstretched, newly mani-leved hand. Before--this call was a cause for inner rage and disgust. Yet this light, it oddly did not bother him at all.

“Yes sir--and good light to you.” Beaver said cordially, as he walk towards. Again, Mercurial’s advisor was standing idle with a group of foppish busybodies.

“Oh Yes! … Good light as well. Beaver2416 I need you to come to the Overlord’s office at around--say 12:40. More promotions, same old same old”--The advisor balked with a pompous frailty.

“Yes … of course sir. 12:40--I will be there.”--Beaver said nodding with a tonality of dutiful seriousness.