Pieces from Litmag 2017
Altar Servers (cont.)
Diocletian, our district Magistrate, sent Andy’s parents a letter of condolence. Unfortunately, it was littered with reminders that Andy had reached cognitive age, and that he had knowingly participated in dangerous, illegal conduct. We had a Mass for Andy that night. The unnerving numbness slowly began to dissolve away, leaving me with an ache of sorrow. I altar-served with Danny that night, and not Andy.
The next day, Danny, Joan and I were sitting in my room. Joan sat against the steel-grey wall, periodically repressing a sob and blowing her nose. Danny sat on my bed, staring at me expectantly, but I didn’t have an answer for him, no course of action.
“Why’d they take him?” Danny asked. I didn’t answer. Instead, I threw my head back against the wall.
“Will they come for us?” I asked, completely afraid that they would come, and they would kill. I was even more afraid of what I might do.
Joan inhaled sharply and replied, “I don’t… I don’t know. They know we were… close to Andy. They will probably guess…” Her voice broke down again.
I pulled Andy’s Bible out of my pocket and flipped through it for the seventh time that day. There had to be something in there to hold onto. God, what can you do for us now? I paused at the sight of an underlined verse. “Surely they have afflicted me from my youth, yet they have not prevailed against me… the Lord is righteous; he has cut the cords of the wicked… the blessing of the Lord be upon you! We bless you in the name of the Lord” (Psalm 129:2, 4, 8).
I felt tears sting my eyes once again. I ran my fingers through my hair, clawing at my scalp. Joan cleared her throat. “Could we say another rosary for him?” she asked timidly.
“Sure,” I affirmed, pulling myself onto my knees. I took out my rosary, and Joan and Danny did the same. I blessed myself and we began, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty…”
Suddenly, my bedroom door slid open and Sergeant Parker marched in efficiently. Danny dropped his rosary as Parker surveyed us carefully, then read from his manugraph:
“An anonymous source has indicated, and we charge you, Sebastian Chase, Daniel Chase and Joan Barringer, with the repeated attendance at Catholic ceremonies on the following dates: December 15, December 22, December 25, December 29 and January 1. You are also charged with the possession of instruments of Catholic indoctrination. Do any of you deny any of these charges?”
I looked at my friends, then back at Sergeant Parker, who had since been joined by two junior Enforcers, dressed in their white training uniforms. They held their pistols with dangerous eagerness. My stomach rebelled against a strong sense of duty. I stood and replied, “I don’t deny it.”
Danny did not have my composure. He began to run out of the room, shouting, “Mom! Mom!”
There was a loud report of a gun and Danny crashed into the wall with a cry. Blood began to pour out from his black curls and onto the white carpet. My resolve was instantly shattered. “Danny!” I cried, rushing to my little brother. “Danny, Danny, please don’t…” I begged as I picked him up and cradled him in my arms.
Sergeant Parker whirled on the Junior Enforcer, who had thrown his gun away in shock. “Dammit, Perry! What the Hell was that for?”
“H…he was running away!”
“He was calling for his mother! What if he were beneath Cognitive Age? He’s a liability!” Parker shouted.
Joan crawled over to me and put her hand on my shoulder comfortingly while Parker continued to reprimand the Enforcer. I smoothed back Danny’s curls and tried to wipe the blood from his innocent face. Sergeant Parker finally finished lecturing his subordinate and looked at his manugraph one last time. “Take them to the van. The Magistrates will discern the next course of action.”
*****
I was thrown into a grey cell at the District Center. It was airy and bright, yet small. Sound was absorbed into the walls and floor. There was no echo as I walked over to the opposite side of the room.
The door slid open once again and I turned around. Therese walked in slowly, her eyes were red and wild. “Therese? When did they…?”
“I was taking the Eucharist to my mom, she was sick yesterday. Last night. They caught me. They gave me a warning, then asked if I knew anyone else who was involved…”
“You told them?!?” I shouted in angry disbelief.
“YES!” she shouted back at me. “They said if I did, you all wouldn’t be hurt!”
“You… you…” I stuttered.
“I was asked if I was ‘willingly participating in illegal indoctrination’. I told them it wasn’t serious! I told them I wouldn’t do it again!”
“I… I can’t believe you! You apostatized?”
“I’m scared, Sebastian! They will kill you all if you don’t deny it. I don’t want to see anyone else die! They killed Andy! I heard they killed Danny! I don’t want that. I want to live!”
“What about eternal life? Don’t you want that?”
“This life,” Therese spat bitterly, “It’s all I know. I’m comfortable with this. What if eternal life isn’t there? What then?”
“Then I haven’t lost anything.”
“Do you want to die?” Therese hurled the question at me.
“No!” I shouted. “No, I don’t.”
“Then live,” she urged. “Forget all this.”
“I … can’t,” I said weakly.
“Why? Why is this so hard for you, Sebastian?”
I looked at the wall and became completely absorbed in a small nick in the paint. “I’ve been caught before.”
“So why do you have to be punished for it now?” Therese interrupted me. I turned to her and stared into her intense, green, confused eyes.
“I’d been caught before, and I denied being Catholic. I lied!”
“Christ forgives sinners, Sebastian. If you are really sorry, God will forgive you!”
“I can’t get out of this. That’s not contrition.”
Therese still didn’t understand. “Sebastian…”
“Therese, why?” I asked quietly.
“That’s what I want to know,” she spat furiously. She spun out of the room and left me staring at the door. I sank to my knees.
“Why?” I whispered.
That night, I think I might have literally been pulled through Hell. At roughly nine in the evening, the lights dimmed. I sat and leaned against the wall, staring aimlessly at the door.
“Why?” What an excellent question. I was left virtually alone, caught, cornered, trapped…
I should have known I’d get caught eventually. I shivered and thought back to October. It had begun to get chilly, but I didn’t like bringing my jacket around. Mom had insisted I did so, for ‘decency’s sake’. Andy and I were playing Stratagems in the Recreation Hall when the Monitors reminded us of curfew. Andy put the game away, and I ran to get my jacket. Everyone headed for the door and I caught sight of Andy’s sandy blonde hair above the rest of the crowd. I began to race ahead to catch up with him when I heard the subtle clatter of beads on carpet. I turned to find that my rosary had fallen out of my jacket pocket. I rushed back to grab it and run, but another hand beat me to it. “Thanks…” I started to say, stopping at the sight of the Hall Monitor. His lips were pressed into a thin line.
“What is this?”
“I, uh, I… I don’t know,” I stammered, blood instantly pounding in my ears. “I stepped on it and thought it might be somebody’s.” The lie was lame, and every thought became crippled as fear poisoned reason.
“Is it a Christian toy?” he asked, gesturing to the cross.
“No… uh, I don’t…”
“Is it a necklace?”
“Sure, I don’t… look, I don’t know!” I cried, wanting terribly for him to leave me alone.
The Monitor was clearly frustrated. “Is it yours? Your sister’s?”
I don’t have a sister, but I jumped at the excuse eagerly. “Yeah.”
The Monitor seemed dubious, but some other desire won out and he tossed it to me. “Curfew is in ten minutes. Get home.”
I had run away that day, all the way home. But now I looked at the walls around me, and knew that running would get me nowhere. Maybe when they opened the door…
Danny started to run. And they killed him. I didn’t want to die. I don’t want to die. Therese might be right. Maybe they would let me live if I told them it wasn’t serious. But I knew Therese was wrong.
‘In every lie, there is a grain of truth,’ the Prince of Lies tempted.
‘I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life,’ the Prince of Peace reasoned.
‘Life? Therese is right, this is all you know.’
‘I have conquered death, a fact you’ve always known.’
‘Death is inevitable.’
“NO!” I screamed aloud. No…
*****
The next morning, two Enforcers arrived to take me to my ‘trial.’ I recognized one of the Enforcers; he had been the Monitor in the Recreational Hall. He had caught me then, and now, as he clamped bulky white cuffs onto my wrists, he seemed to snarl at me, as if to say, “I knew it.”
I was militarily marched down multiple pallid hallways to a door labeled, “Court room.”
“Sebastian!” Joan called out to me the second I entered the room. She was similarly cuffed and stood in a small pen at the center of the room marked “accused”. The room was completely spherical; the floors sloped downward to the accused stand. The walls were steely grey and the rows of chairs that lined the top half of the room seemed endless and seamless. Only about a dozen of the chairs were occupied by the navy-garbed Magistrates. The Head Magistrate of our district, Diocletian Edwin, stood decisively at the center of the cluster of men and women. His jaw was firmly set and his blue eyes pierced me. “Are you hurt?” Joan asked me, knocking me out of my daze as I was pushed onto the stand. I shook my head, glancing up at the Magistrates once again. “What are we going to do?” Joan asked, following my gaze.
“I… I don’t,” my response was cut off by an abrupt cough. A female Magistrate stood before a microphone and began to speak:
“Joan and Sebastian, you have been charged with allegiance to a religious sect, one that has historically threatened our nation for centuries. We feel obliged to remind you that various organizations, predominantly those known as religions, have challenged our laws and principles, claiming to have a higher moral standing than those of our Magistrates. Over the last few decades, we have weeded out the authority figures of many religions, and have attempted to protect you and your peers from false and dangerous indoctrination. You have both passed the cognitive age of twelve, and are now responsible for your actions and your beliefs. So we ask you, how do you plead?”
I blinked at the question. I had completely zoned out again. “How do you plead?” the woman asked again, obviously irritated.
“I…” my throat felt dusty and swollen.
Diocletian stood. “Speak up, boy. Do you plead guilty of false indoctrination?”
I was caught and cornered. I looked to my right, where Joan stood rigidly, blinking through tears. She squeezed my hand gently, reminding me that I was not alone. Catholic means universal, and united. I would never be alone.
I looked up at the cluster of thin-lipped Magistrates. I swallowed about three times, trying to get all of the bile out of my throat. “I…” my voice failed me again.
“We.” Joan spoke firmly. “We are Catholic. Interpret that as you wish.”
“Do you recognize the error in your belief?”
“There is no error.” Joan was miraculously able to speak for both of us. I felt an urge to vomit, scream and deny everything all at once. Retro Satana, I thought violently. Get behind me, Satan.
“Do you have any intention of correcting your behavior?” Diocletian’s face seemed almost purple with rage at our lack of cooperation.
“We do not.”
The majority of the Magistrates turned to one another and murmured in shock and distaste at our response. Diocletian seemed to grow even taller as he spoke over the whole courtroom: “As you have pleaded guilty, and have no repentance for your sins, I sentence you, Sebastian Chase and Joan Barringer, on this date of 1.14.2152, with immediate termination.”
Some clamors of protest ricocheted off the walls as two guards took me by the shoulders. Every single cell in my body wanted to scream, run, fight, deny it all, but Joan’s composure slapped me into calm. My guess is that the murmurs of dissent were merely distaste at the severity of the punishment. But Diocletian had spoken and Joan and I were marched out of the District Center and into an inner courtyard.
Joan and I were immediately forced to our knees. Three black-garbed Enforcers stepped up to about five meters from us. Two drew their guns, and the third shouted orders. “Aim!” The gunmen raised their weapons. “Fire!” Two shots echoed in the dead, stone courtyard.
I expected a bullet to rip through me, but instead, I saw Joan fall back beside me. Blood spilled onto the white stone and its distasteful scent forced bile to congest my throat.
“May the souls of the faithfully departed, though the mercy of God, rest in peace,” the prayer quietly passed my lips. I thought of Andy, Danny, and now Joan, who had all died for their Catholic faith. Centuries of martyrs and the stories of their glorious deaths washed over me as the Enforcer shouted, “Ready!” My hands began to shake and my lungs tightened under a sudden noosed of fear of the inevitable. “Aim!” This is it, I thought. Tears rolled down my cheeks and mingled with my sweat as I prayed one last time. “Fire!”
‘You’re going to die,’ the Tempter roared.
‘You’re about to be born,’ the Truth whispered.
And as the gunshots echoed in the death-stained courtyard, delivering me to the beatific vision, I thought I saw a dove.
The next day, Danny, Joan and I were sitting in my room. Joan sat against the steel-grey wall, periodically repressing a sob and blowing her nose. Danny sat on my bed, staring at me expectantly, but I didn’t have an answer for him, no course of action.
“Why’d they take him?” Danny asked. I didn’t answer. Instead, I threw my head back against the wall.
“Will they come for us?” I asked, completely afraid that they would come, and they would kill. I was even more afraid of what I might do.
Joan inhaled sharply and replied, “I don’t… I don’t know. They know we were… close to Andy. They will probably guess…” Her voice broke down again.
I pulled Andy’s Bible out of my pocket and flipped through it for the seventh time that day. There had to be something in there to hold onto. God, what can you do for us now? I paused at the sight of an underlined verse. “Surely they have afflicted me from my youth, yet they have not prevailed against me… the Lord is righteous; he has cut the cords of the wicked… the blessing of the Lord be upon you! We bless you in the name of the Lord” (Psalm 129:2, 4, 8).
I felt tears sting my eyes once again. I ran my fingers through my hair, clawing at my scalp. Joan cleared her throat. “Could we say another rosary for him?” she asked timidly.
“Sure,” I affirmed, pulling myself onto my knees. I took out my rosary, and Joan and Danny did the same. I blessed myself and we began, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty…”
Suddenly, my bedroom door slid open and Sergeant Parker marched in efficiently. Danny dropped his rosary as Parker surveyed us carefully, then read from his manugraph:
“An anonymous source has indicated, and we charge you, Sebastian Chase, Daniel Chase and Joan Barringer, with the repeated attendance at Catholic ceremonies on the following dates: December 15, December 22, December 25, December 29 and January 1. You are also charged with the possession of instruments of Catholic indoctrination. Do any of you deny any of these charges?”
I looked at my friends, then back at Sergeant Parker, who had since been joined by two junior Enforcers, dressed in their white training uniforms. They held their pistols with dangerous eagerness. My stomach rebelled against a strong sense of duty. I stood and replied, “I don’t deny it.”
Danny did not have my composure. He began to run out of the room, shouting, “Mom! Mom!”
There was a loud report of a gun and Danny crashed into the wall with a cry. Blood began to pour out from his black curls and onto the white carpet. My resolve was instantly shattered. “Danny!” I cried, rushing to my little brother. “Danny, Danny, please don’t…” I begged as I picked him up and cradled him in my arms.
Sergeant Parker whirled on the Junior Enforcer, who had thrown his gun away in shock. “Dammit, Perry! What the Hell was that for?”
“H…he was running away!”
“He was calling for his mother! What if he were beneath Cognitive Age? He’s a liability!” Parker shouted.
Joan crawled over to me and put her hand on my shoulder comfortingly while Parker continued to reprimand the Enforcer. I smoothed back Danny’s curls and tried to wipe the blood from his innocent face. Sergeant Parker finally finished lecturing his subordinate and looked at his manugraph one last time. “Take them to the van. The Magistrates will discern the next course of action.”
*****
I was thrown into a grey cell at the District Center. It was airy and bright, yet small. Sound was absorbed into the walls and floor. There was no echo as I walked over to the opposite side of the room.
The door slid open once again and I turned around. Therese walked in slowly, her eyes were red and wild. “Therese? When did they…?”
“I was taking the Eucharist to my mom, she was sick yesterday. Last night. They caught me. They gave me a warning, then asked if I knew anyone else who was involved…”
“You told them?!?” I shouted in angry disbelief.
“YES!” she shouted back at me. “They said if I did, you all wouldn’t be hurt!”
“You… you…” I stuttered.
“I was asked if I was ‘willingly participating in illegal indoctrination’. I told them it wasn’t serious! I told them I wouldn’t do it again!”
“I… I can’t believe you! You apostatized?”
“I’m scared, Sebastian! They will kill you all if you don’t deny it. I don’t want to see anyone else die! They killed Andy! I heard they killed Danny! I don’t want that. I want to live!”
“What about eternal life? Don’t you want that?”
“This life,” Therese spat bitterly, “It’s all I know. I’m comfortable with this. What if eternal life isn’t there? What then?”
“Then I haven’t lost anything.”
“Do you want to die?” Therese hurled the question at me.
“No!” I shouted. “No, I don’t.”
“Then live,” she urged. “Forget all this.”
“I … can’t,” I said weakly.
“Why? Why is this so hard for you, Sebastian?”
I looked at the wall and became completely absorbed in a small nick in the paint. “I’ve been caught before.”
“So why do you have to be punished for it now?” Therese interrupted me. I turned to her and stared into her intense, green, confused eyes.
“I’d been caught before, and I denied being Catholic. I lied!”
“Christ forgives sinners, Sebastian. If you are really sorry, God will forgive you!”
“I can’t get out of this. That’s not contrition.”
Therese still didn’t understand. “Sebastian…”
“Therese, why?” I asked quietly.
“That’s what I want to know,” she spat furiously. She spun out of the room and left me staring at the door. I sank to my knees.
“Why?” I whispered.
That night, I think I might have literally been pulled through Hell. At roughly nine in the evening, the lights dimmed. I sat and leaned against the wall, staring aimlessly at the door.
“Why?” What an excellent question. I was left virtually alone, caught, cornered, trapped…
I should have known I’d get caught eventually. I shivered and thought back to October. It had begun to get chilly, but I didn’t like bringing my jacket around. Mom had insisted I did so, for ‘decency’s sake’. Andy and I were playing Stratagems in the Recreation Hall when the Monitors reminded us of curfew. Andy put the game away, and I ran to get my jacket. Everyone headed for the door and I caught sight of Andy’s sandy blonde hair above the rest of the crowd. I began to race ahead to catch up with him when I heard the subtle clatter of beads on carpet. I turned to find that my rosary had fallen out of my jacket pocket. I rushed back to grab it and run, but another hand beat me to it. “Thanks…” I started to say, stopping at the sight of the Hall Monitor. His lips were pressed into a thin line.
“What is this?”
“I, uh, I… I don’t know,” I stammered, blood instantly pounding in my ears. “I stepped on it and thought it might be somebody’s.” The lie was lame, and every thought became crippled as fear poisoned reason.
“Is it a Christian toy?” he asked, gesturing to the cross.
“No… uh, I don’t…”
“Is it a necklace?”
“Sure, I don’t… look, I don’t know!” I cried, wanting terribly for him to leave me alone.
The Monitor was clearly frustrated. “Is it yours? Your sister’s?”
I don’t have a sister, but I jumped at the excuse eagerly. “Yeah.”
The Monitor seemed dubious, but some other desire won out and he tossed it to me. “Curfew is in ten minutes. Get home.”
I had run away that day, all the way home. But now I looked at the walls around me, and knew that running would get me nowhere. Maybe when they opened the door…
Danny started to run. And they killed him. I didn’t want to die. I don’t want to die. Therese might be right. Maybe they would let me live if I told them it wasn’t serious. But I knew Therese was wrong.
‘In every lie, there is a grain of truth,’ the Prince of Lies tempted.
‘I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life,’ the Prince of Peace reasoned.
‘Life? Therese is right, this is all you know.’
‘I have conquered death, a fact you’ve always known.’
‘Death is inevitable.’
“NO!” I screamed aloud. No…
*****
The next morning, two Enforcers arrived to take me to my ‘trial.’ I recognized one of the Enforcers; he had been the Monitor in the Recreational Hall. He had caught me then, and now, as he clamped bulky white cuffs onto my wrists, he seemed to snarl at me, as if to say, “I knew it.”
I was militarily marched down multiple pallid hallways to a door labeled, “Court room.”
“Sebastian!” Joan called out to me the second I entered the room. She was similarly cuffed and stood in a small pen at the center of the room marked “accused”. The room was completely spherical; the floors sloped downward to the accused stand. The walls were steely grey and the rows of chairs that lined the top half of the room seemed endless and seamless. Only about a dozen of the chairs were occupied by the navy-garbed Magistrates. The Head Magistrate of our district, Diocletian Edwin, stood decisively at the center of the cluster of men and women. His jaw was firmly set and his blue eyes pierced me. “Are you hurt?” Joan asked me, knocking me out of my daze as I was pushed onto the stand. I shook my head, glancing up at the Magistrates once again. “What are we going to do?” Joan asked, following my gaze.
“I… I don’t,” my response was cut off by an abrupt cough. A female Magistrate stood before a microphone and began to speak:
“Joan and Sebastian, you have been charged with allegiance to a religious sect, one that has historically threatened our nation for centuries. We feel obliged to remind you that various organizations, predominantly those known as religions, have challenged our laws and principles, claiming to have a higher moral standing than those of our Magistrates. Over the last few decades, we have weeded out the authority figures of many religions, and have attempted to protect you and your peers from false and dangerous indoctrination. You have both passed the cognitive age of twelve, and are now responsible for your actions and your beliefs. So we ask you, how do you plead?”
I blinked at the question. I had completely zoned out again. “How do you plead?” the woman asked again, obviously irritated.
“I…” my throat felt dusty and swollen.
Diocletian stood. “Speak up, boy. Do you plead guilty of false indoctrination?”
I was caught and cornered. I looked to my right, where Joan stood rigidly, blinking through tears. She squeezed my hand gently, reminding me that I was not alone. Catholic means universal, and united. I would never be alone.
I looked up at the cluster of thin-lipped Magistrates. I swallowed about three times, trying to get all of the bile out of my throat. “I…” my voice failed me again.
“We.” Joan spoke firmly. “We are Catholic. Interpret that as you wish.”
“Do you recognize the error in your belief?”
“There is no error.” Joan was miraculously able to speak for both of us. I felt an urge to vomit, scream and deny everything all at once. Retro Satana, I thought violently. Get behind me, Satan.
“Do you have any intention of correcting your behavior?” Diocletian’s face seemed almost purple with rage at our lack of cooperation.
“We do not.”
The majority of the Magistrates turned to one another and murmured in shock and distaste at our response. Diocletian seemed to grow even taller as he spoke over the whole courtroom: “As you have pleaded guilty, and have no repentance for your sins, I sentence you, Sebastian Chase and Joan Barringer, on this date of 1.14.2152, with immediate termination.”
Some clamors of protest ricocheted off the walls as two guards took me by the shoulders. Every single cell in my body wanted to scream, run, fight, deny it all, but Joan’s composure slapped me into calm. My guess is that the murmurs of dissent were merely distaste at the severity of the punishment. But Diocletian had spoken and Joan and I were marched out of the District Center and into an inner courtyard.
Joan and I were immediately forced to our knees. Three black-garbed Enforcers stepped up to about five meters from us. Two drew their guns, and the third shouted orders. “Aim!” The gunmen raised their weapons. “Fire!” Two shots echoed in the dead, stone courtyard.
I expected a bullet to rip through me, but instead, I saw Joan fall back beside me. Blood spilled onto the white stone and its distasteful scent forced bile to congest my throat.
“May the souls of the faithfully departed, though the mercy of God, rest in peace,” the prayer quietly passed my lips. I thought of Andy, Danny, and now Joan, who had all died for their Catholic faith. Centuries of martyrs and the stories of their glorious deaths washed over me as the Enforcer shouted, “Ready!” My hands began to shake and my lungs tightened under a sudden noosed of fear of the inevitable. “Aim!” This is it, I thought. Tears rolled down my cheeks and mingled with my sweat as I prayed one last time. “Fire!”
‘You’re going to die,’ the Tempter roared.
‘You’re about to be born,’ the Truth whispered.
And as the gunshots echoed in the death-stained courtyard, delivering me to the beatific vision, I thought I saw a dove.