“What did he say?”
So I told them the story, leaving nothing out.
The female Inquisitor, the one who had first spoken to me, frowned. “Why didn’t you report the subversive conversation to the Tolerance Bureau?”
Precisely what I was afraid of. My failure to report Nathan at the time would draw suspicion onto myself. I found myself resenting him for being stupid enough to believe in God, and stupider still to tell me about it. And now, I might be in trouble because of his foolishness.
“That’s a good question, Inquisitor. And the best answer I can give you is that I couldn’t be bothered.” This was not the answer they wanted, I was sure. Citizens are expected to be zealous in helping to protect the intellectual purity of the nation.
This got their attention. Six heads and six pairs of eyes – three human and three electronic – suddenly riveted my way. “I beg your pardon?”
“Inquisitor, if I reported everyone I came across who, in casual conversation, let something slip that could be taken as intellectual anarchy, I’d be spending all my time in court. So I didn’t report Nathan for the simple reason that I didn’t want the headache. And he wasn’t being belligerent or obnoxious about it. When I asked him to stop, he did. So I saw no point in reporting him.”
“Do you harbor any sympathy for his views?”
I shook my head. “No, of course not.”
“Didn’t you find his language offensive?”
I nodded. “Yes, I was shocked and a bit offended. No one enjoys being subjected like that to unwanted views.”
They continued to hold me in their gaze. The old one with the corrugated face said, “Citizen Callaghan, are you a believer?”
“I believe the sun will most likely rise again in the morning.”
That earned a few chuckles and smiles from some of the Inquisitors around the table, those that still had a sense of humor. The young female Inquisitor apparent did not, and managed to scowl even more. “Citizen, I think you must know what we mean. Do you believe in God, or any form of supernatural deity?”
I smiled. “No.”
“Do you harbor any religious beliefs in the supernatural origins of the universe, a creative deity or deities, gods, or goddess, whether Christian, Muslim, Jewish or pagan?”
“Of course not. I’m an educated, modern person.”
“And yet you are telling us that when Nathan expressed a belief in God, you chose not to report him?”
“That’s right.” In moments like this I wished I could be a little less truthful.
“And so I must ask again, why didn’t you report him?”
“Inquisitor, with all due respect, I believe I’ve already answered that. If I reported everyone who offended me, I’d be spending all my spare time on the Tolerance website filling out complaint forms.”
They looked at each other, and then back at me. The old one said, “We will give further consideration to this apparent oversight of yours later. But for now, let’s move on.”
And so it continued, with questions coming at me in rapid fire from all six Inquisitors, examining me at length about my views on God, science and religion. Since I was soundly secular, I sailed through these questions easily enough. I wasn’t a ‘cultural’ atheist like some, who only give lip service to the values of secularism in order to get along in society, or to avoid rehab. I held my orthodox beliefs sincerely.
The questions moved back to the subject of Nathan, probing for more information that might be useful in the upcoming trial, but I didn’t have anything more to tell. I’d only had the one conversation with him in which he’d expressed religious views. But they kept grilling me all the same, acting like it was the trial of Galileo all over again.
Then they moved on to other co-workers. Did I know of anyone else who harbored religious convictions?
No, I replied.
Had I noticed any incidents of intellectual anarchy in the work place?
No.
After what felt like six hours, but was really closer to two, they seemed satisfied that they had got everything they could from me, and finally dismissed me. I stood to go.
One of the Inquisitors stopped me just as I opened the door. “Citizen.”
I turned around. “Yes, Inquisitor.”
“While we are satisfied of your intellectual purity, we find your failure to report the accused a troubling oversight.”
“Yes, Inquisitor.”
“We are concerned that you failed to grasp the urgency of the situation, and the importance of protecting the intellectual purity of the country. It’s every citizen’s duty, and all of us must be vigilant to report any digressions from the truth if we ever hope to purge our nation of superstition and anti-scientific outlooks. There is the very real possibility of a metaphysical outbreak in this organization, and we must take action to contain it before it spreads.”
I waited at the door, my hand still on the handle, sensing a bomb about to drop.
“While we could technically convict you of failure to report an intellectual crime, which carries a sentence of up to a month in rehab, we don’t think that will be necessary in your case. Your adherence to the values of atheism appears to be quite sincere.”
I nodded in acknowledgment of the compliment. “Thank you, Inquisitor.”
“However, we’ve decided to assign you to a Counselor. You will be required to attend personal counseling. The purpose of this is not punishment, you understand, but prevention and rehabilitation. We want to help you grasp the importance of working towards the intellectual purity of the country. It’s every citizen’s duty.”
There was nothing for me to say. Counseling assigned by the Tolerance Bureau is mandatory, and I was getting off easy as it was, so I wasn’t about to object. I nodded and left the room.
I found Miriam still working at her desk, a lone pool of light on the dark floor, when I went back to my cubicle. “What are you still doing here? It’s late,” I said.
“It’s the only time of day I can get any work done.” She tapped away at her keyboard. “Blythe was here looking for you.”
“Who?”
“Blythe. The ground- floor receptionist.”
“What did she want?”
“You had a visitor.”
“Did she say who?”
“Some lawyer from Virginia.”
I thought for a moment, and remembered the call from earlier. “Do you mean Vermont?”
“Oh, yes, that’s it. Apparently he was still downstairs waiting, at least an hour ago. Blythe was looking pretty irritated, I have to say. I told her you were otherwise indisposed.”
“Thank you.”
“How’d it go?”
I just grunted.
She stopped typing and looked at me. “Come on, big guy, throw me a bone. I’ve been sitting here all evening doing real work, holding down the fort, et cetera, et cetera, and missing out on all the excitement.”
“You have a strange idea of fun and excitement.”
“So did you tell them anything? Any pay dirt for our brave defenders of intellectual orthodoxy?”
There was no point denying it. “Only what I knew.”
She grinned mischievously. “You
knew
something about Nathan?”
When I didn’t answer right away, she knew she had me. “You knew something all this time, and didn’t report it to the Inquisitors?”
“I told them today,” I said a bit defensively.
She learned forward in her chair. “So, are the rumors true? Was Nathan a believer?”
I nodded.
“And he actually talked to you about it?”
“Uh huh.”
She cocked an eye brow at me. “If you had the goods on him, why did you remain silent until today?”
“It was only once, and at the time it didn’t seem all that important. I didn’t think it was worth turning him in over one conversation. I still don’t, but that doesn’t matter now.”
“You could get arrested just for saying that, Jack dear,” Miriam pointed out. “You should be more careful, and show more vigilance in your civic duty.”
“Are you going to have me arrested?”
She tapped the side of her face with an index finger while making an exaggerated expression of concentration. “Hmm, it is a dilemma. You’re too pig-headed to respond well to rehab, but then again you’d look awfully cute in those pin-striped pajamas the prisoners wear.”
“Guests, not prisoners,” I corrected.
“Well, I don’t suppose there’s a reward out for you yet, so I don’t think I’ll bother.”
“You’re too kind.”
Miriam laughed, but then lowered her voice. “Seriously, Jack. You need to be more careful. People are talking.”
“About what?”
“Well, that you’re a Shirker. You don’t take the Citizen’s Duty seriously enough – not doing your part.”
“Nonsense.”
She shrugged. “Jack, I like you. I’m just telling you what I’m hearing. So be careful, okay?”
“Thanks. I’ll add that to my ‘To Do’ list.”
“I’m serious. It’s not something to joke about.”
“Okay, thanks. Look, I need to run. It’s getting late.” I unplugged my data pad and slipped it into a carry case, and grabbed the coat off the back of my chair. It’d been cold in the morning when I had left for work, despite being June.
“Some of us are getting together at Donovan’s after work. Are you coming?” Miriam asked.
I shook my head. “I can’t. I should get home. Selene will be waiting and wondering where I am.”
“Selene’s a lucky girl,” she said.
“I like to think so.”
She glanced up at me, her eyes dancing playfully. “If I didn’t think you were so devoted to your wife, I’d cast my hooks out for you. You’d be a nice catch.”
“Well, you’re out of luck, because I’m very devoted,” I said.
“And talking about the lucky girl, how is she doing?”
I still found it painful to talk about the accident. “Much better, thanks. She couldn’t go back to modeling after the accident, of course, but she’s found a new line of work.”
“What’s she doing?”
“Developing virtual personalities for artificial intelligence apps and on-line avatars. It’s a big change for her, but she’s discovered a hidden talent and is loving it.”
“Good for her. Is she getting out much yet?”
I shook my head. “Not much, I’m afraid.”
“I haven’t seen her since she got out of the hospital. She’s declined all my invites. Won’t even meet me for coffee.”
“Don’t take it personally. She’s avoiding everyone. There is still a lot of reconstructive surgery needed.”
“I don’t care about that,” she said.
“She does.”
“We miss her. It’s been almost a year, Jack,” Miriam said softly. “You should try to get Selene out and see people. It will do her good – help with her recovery.”
I knew Miriam was only trying to help, but her timing couldn’t have been worse. I was beat – physically, emotionally and mentally. My energy levels are highest in the morning – I’m what my wife calls an annoyingly perky morning person. The flip side of that is that my energy level is not very high later in the day, and this had been a particularly long and difficult one. I was feeling drained. I’d just endured a grueling interrogation by the Tolerance Bureau, and barely escaped sentencing to rehab for my failure to report Nathan sooner. I knew she meant well, and I even felt, deep down, that she had a point. Maybe if I hadn’t just spent two hours being grilled by Inquisitors I might have handled it better.
But I didn’t. I didn’t handle it well at all. “Miriam, you have no idea what’s she’s been through,” I snapped. “What we’ve both been through. And I don’t need advice from you on how to run my personal life. Selene is recovering, physically and emotionally, very well. She’s found a new line of work, and she will get back out into circulation when she feels good and ready, in her own time.” I knew, even as the words spewed forth, that they reeked of self-pity and defensiveness. But I’d lost it and no longer cared.
Miriam stiffened in her chair and her jaw dropped. I grabbed up my things, turned around and left before she had time to say something. I’d worry about apologizing tomorrow.
• • •
A frumpy old man was sitting in the ground-floor reception area as I left the building. He watched me as I crossed the lobby towards the front doors. I glanced his way, wondering who he was, and he quickly got up from the leather couch and moved towards me. I kept walking but he angled across the floor in a trajectory that would intercept me before I got to the revolving doors.
There was no avoiding him and we met in the middle of the lobby. He was wearing a dark blue suit of a style that went out with the last century, and a shock of unruly grey hair adorned the top of his otherwise bald scalp.
“Jack Callaghan?”
“Yes.”
He stuck out his hand. “My name is Richard Abrams,” he said without smiling.
I remembered the name and I shook his hand. “Yes, Blythe called me earlier.” I looked around. Blythe had left for the day and the night security guard now sat at her station. This Richard Abrams, whoever he was, had been waiting for me in the lobby for a long time.
“What’s this about?” I asked.
“I’m a lawyer from Vermont.”
“In that case you have my deepest sympathies, but it’s late and I need to be getting home.”
He didn’t seem to appreciate my humor. Without any change of expression or tone of voice, he motioned towards the waiting area off to our left where there were some couches and chairs. “Yes, I’m sorry to keep you. But I’ve been waiting all afternoon to speak with you. Do you mind if we sit down?”
“Can you tell me what this is about first?”
He regarded me solemnly and his expression turned dourer, which hardly seemed possible. “It’s about your grandfather.”
“Yes?”
“I’m afraid he passed away over the weekend.”
• • •
I hadn’t seen Grandpa in years, but my childhood memories of him were fond. I was eight the last time I saw him, shortly after my father disappeared. He dropped in one Saturday afternoon and sat in our living room for a short visit. My mother was upset, and I could tell she didn’t really want him there. I asked him if he’d seen my Dad. He said yes. Then I asked where he was and if I could see him. Grandpa tried to answer, carefully choosing words to explain the inexplicable to a child. I remembered what he’d said like it was yesterday.