Velvet Dogma About 3300 wds (18 page)

In 2032 a series of earthquakes threatened to split the world asunder. No less than 121 countries were struck by quakes with magnitudes upwards from 6.0 on the Richter scale. The Golden Gate Bridge fell. St. Louis was destroyed as the very path of the Mississippi was changed by a magnitude 9.0 quake along the New Madrid Fault. That same year a hurricane hit New Orleans, delivering the coup de grace to a city that had never been able to rise above the blow delivered by Katrina in '05.

Industry and innovation drove politics as organizations, governments and territorial boundaries were forced to change to keep up with the times. Rebecca had learned about the organ levies, but she was stunned to discover that it hadn't always been mandatory. As one of the last acts of the United Nations, before it disbanded to become the World Congress, the nations voted the levy into law by a simple majority, which meant that the decisions of countries like New Angola, Belgium, Croatia and Singapore affected the
then
United States, which had voted against it.

The advent of the personal ocular device changed the face of culture, bringing the living room to the streets as people downloaded inDramas and accessed the ID while performing the mundanities of life. Multi-tasking rose to new and absurd levels. No longer were people tied to their sofas. Television and cable went the way of the 8-track tape player and mood rings. Water cooler discussions of the previous night's shows was replaced by PODmeets, virtual dialogues conducted through the POD imaging system where sometimes thousands of avatars came together to argue, applaud and dissect the hot topic of the moment.

China destroyed and recreated the world's economies when in 2022 they began mass-producing hydrogen cars. Within six months factories in China, Japan, Korea and Mexico began pumping out oil-free hydrogen-fueled cars. Within a single year, ten million U.S. drivers had switched to hydrogen. The major manufacturers began practically giving away their cars, subsisting on kickbacks from OPEC and the hopes that no one could pass up something that had previously cost fifty thousand dollars. But the world was tired. Too many wars had been fought for oil. Too many young people had died. The consensus was to let the change happen, trading peace and hydrogen for war and oil.

OPEC didn't go down without a fight, however. Called the Day of the Fire Blossoms, seventeen Iran Air flights carrying unsuspecting passengers into China diverted their courses towards the factories, detonating in bright mushroom blossoms of flame. China immediately retaliated by firing short range nuclear missiles from submarines hidden off the coasts of the OPEC member states in the Arabian Gulf and off the coast of Venezuela. Within a month, sixty million people had died—a pharaoh's escort for the Middle Eastern Sheiks who found themselves unable to continue living as rulers of nothing more valuable than seas of sand. By 2028 oil was rendered worthless as even plastics switched to silicon, thus ending the Era of Fossil Fuels.

A great sadness swept through Rebecca when she learned that the United States ceased to exist as a sovereign entity in 2028. To compete with the European Union, Pacific Rim Amalgam, the New Afrikaan TransVaal and China, the United States formed permanent partnerships with Canada, Mexico, the Antilles, Cuba and the West Indies to form the North American Free Trade Congress.

But what saddened her most was what happened to sports. She'd never been athletic, but sports had always been a part of her life while growing up. Superbowls, March Madness, the World Series and the World Cup were as common to her as February, March and October, marking the seasons and the days, benchmarks for her life since she'd been old enough to remember. Those words and phrases had become part of the world's lexicon. Now they were words rendered as incomprehensible as
Victorian England
.

Football breathed its last breath on November 14, 2023, not even making it until the end of the season. PODs had reduced the crowds to essentially nothing. Those who'd remained were subjected to bomb threats and snipers' bullets. The last five years saw games played in secure domes with fans going virtual, viewing games through PODs instead of live. But without the fan dynamic, team loyalty disappeared, and with it the pure love of the game. Professional football was replaced by a virtual counterpart where teams played every day, three-hundred-sixty-five days a year, injuries decided by algorithm, winners by fan participation.

American Baseball moved to South America. Hockey was cancelled in America and Canada, moving to the Russian Free Tundra. Basketball remained as the sole spectator sport played in the North American Free Trade Congress. The rules of the game hadn't changed much, but with the advent of genetic-splicing the rims were raised to fifteen feet.

Soccer was outlawed in England after German Hooligans, in retaliation for the murder of four German soccer players during the World Cup at Wembley Stadium, burned London to the ground.

Rebecca had once read that sports were a reflection of civilization—winning, losing, cooperation, and competition inextricable aspects of any society. As the world had evolved, bringing with it those things necessary to assist in the propulsion of the human race into history, sports had been left behind. Now sports represented a mere historical footnote, like the games once played by Aztec warriors, another civilization forced to merge and die.

When Abraham finally finished his telling, he stared at Rebecca, waiting patiently as she took it all in. His bright eyes danced to her every twitch and movement, one time following her hand as it swept at her hair, another as she adjusted the fall of the fabric around her breasts. She allowed him this as she sat and lamented the death of more than her world—of her home. Los Angeles still existed. The land that had once been the United States still existed. Things she recognized coexisted with the surreal and strange. But this would never again be her home.

And with that realization she cried, tears seeping from her closed eyes and flowing silently down her cheeks. She sobbed silently, grieving for a nation, for a time that would never come again. She also grieved for herself, selfish in her wish for things to return to the way they were. Her sentence had been too harsh. Not only had she lost twenty years, but she'd lost her land.

After awhile Rebecca tired of her tears. She could cry forever and nothing would change. So she wiped her eyes and thanked Abraham for his telling. The last thing she asked was about his own history, not blinking as she asked how he'd lost his limbs. To her surprise, he came right out and told her.

"I had a friend hammer nails through each shoulder and above each knee. For a leper, even the simplest bruise can reap horrendous results. What I did was like a nuclear detonation to my system. It was only a matter of time before the disease saw the opportunity."

"So you did it on purpose?"

"Of course I did."

She thought about asking why, but didn't want to insult him. He knew that she understood. She knew exactly why he did it, and the knowing was enough.

R
ebecca had barely noticed when Andy scrambled onto the roof two hours later. She hadn't minded being alone. In fact, she'd rather preferred it. So much information to parse—too much, really. Her mind felt broken, fried. She was unable to concentrate, so she'd spent the time staring at the underground city, the children playing as if theirs was a perfect world beneath a perfect heaven, oblivious to the realities and horrors of the world above them.

"Been looking for you."

His words sent a tendril of desire through her shambled thoughts. Andy had been her only stabilizing force and now he was her lover. Had she made the right choice? She hoped so, because now she had to live with it.

She turned and held out her hand. "Come on over. I want to show you something."

He took it and interlaced his fingers with hers. She pulled him to her and pointed with her free hand towards the children playing soccer in a grotto of CONEXs just below them.

"See the children?"

He watched for a minute before he spoke. "The tall one with blonde hair has skill, but the short girl has the tenacity to win."

Rebecca agreed, watching as the girl lowered her shoulder and pushed past the taller boy trying to remove the ball from her control. But she wouldn't have it. At the last moment she spun, then fired, the ball thundering into the empty CONEX that they used as a goal.

"I've been watching these kids for hours now, and do you know what I've discovered? Even with all that's going on around them, with the threat of death, disease and dismemberment, they're just like any other kids."

"There's a type of plant that grows in the south that's like that even," Andy said. "No matter what's done to it, it somehow manages to survive."

She shook her head. "I'm not talking about mere survival. I'm talking about faith."

"I don't follow."

"Forget the children for a moment and look at the parents."
 
When she saw him searching near where the children played, she hastily amended, "Not just their parents, but look at all the adults and tell me what you see."

"I'm no good at this," he said, pulling away from her.

"It's a simple question."

"I can't answer it. I can master the algorithms of any program, but I can't do riddles."

She rolled her eyes. "Only because you won't try. Sometimes I wish you'd take a chance."

"I take chances."

"Only when you have absolute control. Only when you have plans set aside for you."
 
She smiled through a grimace as she shook her head. "I'm not condemning you, Andy, just making an observation."

"Where'd this come from? Are you mad at me?"

This wasn't going the way she'd planned. She'd had an epiphany and wanted to share. She didn't want to start a knockdown, drag out. She leveled her gaze at him and kept her voice even. "I'm not at all mad at you. I want to show you something, but you have to try a little."
 

"I still don't—" He snapped his mouth shut. "Fine. Ask me the question again."

"What do all the parents have in common?" she asked, simplifying.

Andy stepped to the edge of the CONEX tower and stared out at the city. Hundreds of people moved to and fro. Some sat and talked in the ubiquitous city sprawl. Others sold wares in small dedicated bazaars. Still others knelt in prayer.

"What do you see?"

"Give me a moment."

She examined him as he in turn examined the city. The jut of his spine told her he hated being put on the spot. She really shouldn't have done it, but he was her lover now and she wanted him to be better...not that she'd ever tell him that.

"Interesting," he murmured. Glancing in her direction, Andy flashed her a smile. "I don't know if this is what you saw but did you notice that they all go around covered in fabric, dressed like Bedouins?"

"Yes," she grinned broadly. "I noticed exactly that."

"That's it then. But I don't get why it's important."

"Then ask yourself this question. Why does a group of people need to hide their appearance from each other when everyone has the same disease?"

"Interesting."

"More importantly, why do the children go about normally, covered only in enough clothes to allow them decency?"

"The children aren't ready for what the disease can do to a body."

"Exactly, Lover."
 
This evoked a broad smile. "The children are being raised in faith that the Day Eaters, their parents, are doing the right thing, but the results of the
choice
can be so horrific that it could shatter even the strongest faith?"

"Ah. So you think that the parents are afraid that the children wouldn't follow in their footsteps if they really knew."

"I think so. It's interesting that the adults take the disease to be a visual protest, but hide it at home. You know, I doubt if more than ten percent of them ever see the light of day."

Andy nodded, his right hand scratching his chin as he observed the city beneath him.

"I met Maria's son this morning. He intentionally maimed himself far more drastically than any of the grown-ups, and because of this, he's a demi-god to them."

Andy turned to her and shook his head. "I'm smart, but I'm not getting what you're saying, Bec. Please let me off the hook and tell me what you see."

With a quick nod she relented. "Do you remember the Muslims in Israel, Palestine and Iraq? You must have learned it in world history like me. They called themselves Freedom Fighters. Soldiers of God. Some even called themselves
The Chosen
."

"That's just a common name."

"Sure. What was also common was that they strapped bombs to themselves and detonated them in places where hundreds of peace-loving civilians were. That was their sign of protest."

"What does that have to do with the Day Eaters?"

"Everything. Look at them."
 
Her arm swept the breadth of the city. "The reason that they don't show themselves to each other is because they are so eaten up with the disease that once you got a good look at them, no one in their right mind would want to emulate them. I hate to use the word terrorist because it is such a
point of view
word, but the Day Eaters are just like those groups who sent people to blow themselves up. They saw the bright side of their religion. They were told they'd go to heaven. They were told they'd get special dispensation. But they were never shown pictures of those who had gone before them. They were never shown the maimed figures of those who survived. I remember right before I was sent to prison that young men in the Middle East were killing themselves in droves for ideals espoused by the old."