The Culling Read online

  They continued to walk through the settlement, passing an open air market where people bartered all manner of goods and services, while children darted in and out among the stalls or piles of merchandise, another sight neither Hiroshi nor Clementine had ever seen.

  Moses stopped in front of a small cabin. He rapped lightly on the door. After a few moments, the door swung inward and a small figure emerged from the gloomy interior.

  “Good day, Abraham,” the woman said. “You’re back, and I see you brought company.”

  She was small, not much taller than Hiroshi, and even smaller in build. Her hair was snow white and cropped close to her round skull. Her face, with broad forehead and high cheekbones, was so dark the shadows were almost blue. Her almond shaped eyes were light brown, almost yellow, and bright with amusement as she looked at Hiroshi and Clementine.

  “Yes, Rebecca, these two youngsters escaped from New Liberty. We found them in the forest on the other side of the mountain. The lad is Hiroshi and the girl is Clementine. This fine lady is Rebecca Stennis, and I believe she might just be the oldest resident of Freeland.”

  The old lady laughed and slapped Moses on the forearm.

  “You mind your manners, Abraham Moses. I might be old, but I can still whip your behind. Come on in, all of you. I just brewed a pot of dandelion tea, and I hate drinking alone.”

  She stepped aside to let them enter. The room they entered was lit by the light of a single candle set in a holder on a table in the center casting a warm glow over everything. Next to the candle was a shiny metal pot with a curved spout and handle, beside which sat six metal cups. The room was sparsely furnished but neat, much like the woman who occupied it.

  As the three took seats around the table, Rebecca Stennis returned to the small settee where she had been sitting and began pouring the steaming tea into cups. All the while, she eyed Hiroshi.

  “Tell me, young man,” she said. “What is your family name?”

  Huh?” he asked. “Oh, you mean the name of my father? His name was Ulysses Jackson. My mother’s name was Junko.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she nodded.

  “Do you know the name of your grandfather? Your father’s father?”

  “Uh, I believe it was Ban-, no, it was Benjamin.”

  Her eyes flew wide and she reached across the table to grasp Hiroshi’s hands.

  “Yes, I can see it now,” she said. “You have his eyes.”

  “You . . . you knew my grandfather?”

  Oh yes, I did. The three of us, him, his wife, and me, worked at the Library of Congress. That was a government building in which copies of almost every book, newspaper, magazine, or pamphlet that had ever been published was kept. You could say it held the world’s knowledge. When the book burnings started, we were assigned to move selected books to a safe place. We worked night and day on that. Near the end, when we knew they were coming to sack our building, your grandfather tried to get his wife and me to leave for safety. She refused, but the two of them insisted I leave. I got out of the building just ahead of the mob. I never found out what happened to them, or to your father, who was just a child at the time.”

  Hiroshi told her what his father, Ulysses, had told him. This brought tears to her eyes. Her expression turned to anger when he told her what had happened to his father and mother.

  “I guess that means they found the hidden books,” she said.

  “No,” Hiroshi said. “I don’t think so. I was young when the monitors came, but I remember my father not telling them anything, and I remember the last thing he said just before they took me away. He said ‘always remember.’ I didn’t understand it at the time.”

  “But, you do now, don’t you?”

  An image came into Hiroshi’s mind, a long, winding underground passage, lined with rusty pipes and frayed wires, leading to a thick iron door. The door was rust encrusted and looked as if it was welded permanently in place. But, this was deceptive. If pressed in just the right place, the door swung inward smoothly. Behind was a large room, that had originally been lit by fluorescent fixtures set in the high vaulted ceiling, but when the electricity finally failed, by candles and then torches set in sconces on the walls. The floor was covered in gleaming white ceramic tiles. Hiroshi remembered his shoes making clicking sounds as he followed his father between the towering stacks of books that were arrayed row upon row from one end of the room to the other end in the far distance. There were books of all kinds, large and small, thick and thin, some bound in hard cardboard, some in paper, and some in leather and other elegant looking materials. But, it was what lay between the covers that most fascinated him. Whether words or pictures, once he learned to read, he spent many an hour in the room, lying on his stomach under one of the torches flipping the pages and being transported to a world beyond his imagining.

  “Yes,” Hiroshi said. “He meant that I should always remember what I read. He also meant that I should remember where the books are kept, and I do.”

  The old woman’s eyes glistened as she blinked back tears. She gently caressed Hiroshi’s cheeks and looked up at Abraham Moses.

  “He is the one, Abraham,” she said. “He has finally come.”

  18.

  “What did she mean, I’m the one?” Hiroshi asked.

  Abraham Moses had made their excuses and said goodbye to Rebecca Stennis, stating that she needed to rest. She’d complained until he promised that he would bring Hiroshi back after he’d gotten him and Clementine settled.

  The three of them were now sitting in the modest cabin that Moses shared with his wife Sarah. She had brewed a pot of tea and was pouring cups for each of them.

  “That’s a long, and pretty complicated story, son,” Moses said.

  “I have nothing but time,” Hiroshi said.

  Moses laughed, and slapped his knee.

  “The boy has a right to know,” Sarah Moses, a tall, broad-hipped woman with brown hair flecked with gray pulled back tight against her skull, and smiling gray eyes, massaged her husband’s shoulders. “You know it.”

  A look passed between husband and wife. Hiroshi noticed it. He leaned forward, fixing Abraham Moses with a steely gaze.

  “You’re right as usual.” Moses sighed. “Okay, boy, sit back and I’ll tell you what I know.

  Clementine perched on the arm of Hiroshi’s chair, her hand on his neck protectively.

  “I guess I have to start with when Rebecca first came here,” Moses continued. “It was right after we started building the first houses. She came stumbling off the mountain, more dead than alive. She’d walked all the way from Washington – New Liberty was still known as Washington, DC at that time. We took her in and tended to her until she recovered, and told us her story. And, a chilling story it was, let me tell you. The army and police had pretty much ceased to exist by then, and they’d brought in a militia unit to restore order. Along with burning books and closing schools, they were herding people into confinement centers.

  He paused and poured three glasses of apple cider. After taking a sip, he continued his story.

  “They weren’t too organized at first, so we were able to rescue a few hundred, but that didn’t last. Besides, we couldn’t do much for people unless they were prepared to help themselves, and with the schools closed there wasn’t much hope. But, Rebecca brought us hope. She told us about the efforts to save as much knowledge as possible by hiding books from the Library of Congress before the mobs burned them. Your grandfather was put in charge. She never knew the exact location he’d chosen – supposedly somewhere in one of the abandoned subway tunnels – but, he’d said he’d make sure the knowledge of that place was not only protected, but passed on. Apparently, he passed the information to his son, Ulysses, who passed it to you.”

  “Sure, I know where the books are,” Hiroshi said. “But, I don’t see how that helps you way out here.”

  Moses leaned forward, his voice lowered to just above a whisper.

  “I’m going to share s
omething with you, son,” he said. “That not more than fifty people here in Freeland know. We have plans to invade New Liberty to get those books. With them we could start to restore the knowledge base that was lost when things fell apart. The only thing that’s held us back is our not knowing just where in New Liberty the books are hidden.”

  “You would risk your lives just to find some books?” Clementine asked.

  “You don’t understand, young lady. Knowledge is power, real power. Oh, sure, you can control people with guns, but unless you possess more knowledge than the people you control, you risk them rising up against you. That’s the main weakness of the city-states, because they don’t allow education, you have the ignorant lording it over other ignorant people. It’s a recipe for chaos and disaster eventually.”

  Hiroshi thought on what Moses was saying. He remembered how his knowledge of an ancient Chinese philosopher had allowed him to overcome the monitors despite their superior armament, and how knowing about bears had enabled him and Clementine to survive their encounter with the wild bear. Moses was right; the person with knowledge had the long-term advantage. Maybe it was worth the risk to gain access to the storehouse of knowledge hidden beneath New Liberty. But, he questioned whether or not he had it in him to take that risk.

  “You said that most of the teachers escaped the cities and came here,” Hiroshi said. “Don’t they provide you with the knowledge you need?”

  “They provide a lot, but most of them are very specialized. They can only tell us what they know. Besides, as they get older, their memory fades. No, we need a more general base of knowledge, and the hidden books have it.”

  It was becoming clear to Hiroshi where the conversation was going. He felt cold all over, and a bit lightheaded. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure the others could hear it, and he had a bit of difficulty breathing. Part of his mind said that this wasn’t rational. He’d faced the monitors and the bear without hesitation, but now, just the thought of going back to New Liberty had him almost shaking. He forced himself to breathe deeply, sending his thoughts back to the times when he sat in a corner of the book cache, poring over the words that seemed to march across the page and into his mind. This calmed him a little, enough for him to begin to process what was happening. The monitors and the bear had been real dangers, things he could see and think of ways to deal with. Returning to New Liberty, though, was a completely different matter. He could only imagine what might happen, and it was the anticipation of the unknown that evoked his feelings of fear. The words of an American president, Franklin D. Roosevelt in his first address to a nation wracked by unemployment and economic collapse came to him, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”

  He knew that the only way he would be able to overcome this feeling was to face it head on.

  “So,” he said. “I guess you’ll want me to lead you to the books?”

  Before Moses could reply, his wife laid her hands on his shoulders.

  “Before you answer that, Abraham,” she said. “You make sure this boy knows what you’re asking of him.”

  Moses looked up at his wife, his eyes narrowed. Hiroshi saw a look pass between them that he could not interpret.

  “All in good time, Sarah,” Moses said. “The first objective is to get as many of the books as we can.”

  Clementine looked up at them. She placed her cup on the table and put her hands on her knees.

  “You’re asking Hiroshi to go back to New Liberty? That’s awfully dangerous. The monitors would kill him on sight.” She shot a pleading glance at Hiroshi. “Tell me you’re not planning to go back there.”

  “It is the best way,” Hiroshi said. “I could try to tell them how to get to the books, but it’s very complicated. It would be easier to show them, and I’d have to be there to do that.”

  Sarah Moses put her hands on her hips and glared down at her husband.

  “You have to tell him, Abraham,” she said. There was steel in her voice.

  Abraham Moses sighed.

  “I suppose you’re right.” He turned to Hiroshi. “Hiroshi, it is important to the continued survival of Freeland that we get those books, but as long as New Liberty remains as it is, even with the books we would be in danger.”

  “What are you suggesting, then?” Hiroshi asked.

  “So far, the people of New Liberty haven’t ventured far from their border fence,” Moses said. “Human nature being what it is, however, we can’t rely on that situation not changing. As their population grows, there will be pressure for more living space. If they should begin to expand, it’s just a matter of time until they find us. We need to do something about them before that happens.”

  “But, what can you do?”

  “Well, we know that the worker community, what you know as the proles, far outnumbers those in charge. While fear of the monitors’ weapons is part of what keeps them in check, the real reason they submit to the tyranny is ignorance and lack of someone to rally them to resist. We’ve discussed this extensively, and the council believes that if we could show the proles an alternative way of life, they would rise up against those in charge.”

  Hiroshi’s mind was racing. A small part resisted what he knew Moses was suggesting.

  “You can’t think that I would be able to get the prole community to resist the citizens and the monitors,” he said.

  “Son, revolutions have started with little more than an idea and someone with the ability to communicate it to others. You possess something that few others have – you have knowledge inside that head of yours, the knowledge of centuries. What’s more, while you might not know it, the mere fact that you were able to escape from the monitors makes you a symbol of successful resistance. It’s just a matter of getting that message to others.”

  The wheels in Hiroshi’s head were spinning at full speed now. He was making the connections that he suspected Moses wanted him to make. It was true; he’d done what no prole before him had done; he’d gone up against the monitors and prevailed. He had escaped from New Liberty. If he stayed invisible, though, the impact of what he’d done would be lost, submerged in the incessant propaganda coming from the speakers all over the prole community. If, on the other hand, he returned, he would be a visible and potent symbol of possibilities, living proof that proles could in fact live free.

  He looked around at the others. Abraham Moses eyed him with a hopeful expression, while his wife maintained a stoic look. Clementine’s eyes were wide with fear, and her lips quivered. She laid a hand on his forearm. He could feel her shaking.

  It was now left to him. “Always remember.” His father’s voice was clear in his mind. All those hours he’d spent among the stacks of books, the time of poring over words to puzzle out their meanings, staring at pictures of scenes that represented a world that he thought he would never know except in him mind, had been, at the time, just an interesting way for a precocious child to pass the time. He now knew differently. His father had been preparing him, and even though he didn’t live to see it, Hiroshi was determined that his effort would not be in vain.

  The queasiness of fear had drifted away, to be replaced with a feeling of steely resolve. It was a strange sensation, like nothing he’d ever felt before.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

  19.

  New Liberty

  The Committee was gathered. All were in their customary places, and all eyes were focused on the Chairman.

  Gravius-One, his ebony face impassive, sat facing Hector Cruz. Unlike everyone else present, he knew the reason for the Chairman’s scowl. Inwardly, he was amused at the thought of the others worrying that Cruz’s wrath might fall on them for some infraction, real or imagined. Drake Edison looked particularly concerned, no doubt because the escape of a prole, while it was directly linked to poor performance on the part of Gravius’s monitors, nonetheless impacted on poor Edison’s population control ministry, and the poor man knew how Cruz dealt with failure.

 
Cruz looked at the faces around the table. Inwardly, he was fuming, but he’d finally managed to get his anger under control. Control - that was the key. He must never, ever lose control. His father had let control slip from his fingers, allowing the other Committee members too much say in events, and that had been his undoing. Cruz was determined not to suffer the same fate. Of course, he often thought, he didn’t have a son waiting in the wings for him to make a mistake, only these vultures sitting around the table, not one of whom, with the possible exception of Gravius, with the balls or guts to do anything but wait, unlike him. He’d acted when action was necessary – but, that was another issue, now, he had to deal with a more immediate issue.

  His gaze came to rest on the monitor commander. This one, he thought, I will have to watch closely. Right now he’s essential to my plans, but there will come a day when he will be too great a liability, and I’ll have to think of a way to eliminate him.

  “Citizens,” he said. “We’re faced with a crisis.” He chose each word carefully. He wanted them worried, but unsure at the same time. “A prole not only killed two of our monitors, but escaped from New Liberty. We’ve clamped down on the information, but you know as well as I that such things can’t be kept hidden forever.”

  Jebediah Robertson smiled wolfishly at the dismayed looking Edison. The elder, though a man of the cloth, wasn’t immune from the effects of sitting so close to the center of power. He didn’t think much of Edison, thought Cruz was a spoiled brat, and Wainwright a pompous jackass. The dark-skinned monitor commander, Gravius, was the only one he came close to respecting, but it was a respect born out of fear. For now, he satisfied himself with enjoying Edison’s discomfort.

  “If word gets out that a prole did such a thing and went unpunished, you could have problems, Citizen Edison,” he said.