Chapter 20 Root, Stalk, and Seed #2
No, he thought miserably. Nathan had told his family about Soren, his friend who lived in Clover Hollow.
He hadn’t revealed they’d fallen in love.
Nathan feared how his pa would react upon discovering his manly son was attracted to men.
Besides, what good would it do? The law stated he must go before the Oracle next month to be paired with a woman of the AI’s choosing.
The newlywed couple was then required to produce at least two children.
If no children were born by the end of three years, a health inspector would take them to a facility to be tested.
If they could find no remedy, the court would issue a divorce.
The infertile individual would then be sent to a monastery to live out their life in service to the Oracle.
“I understand it’s our duty to procreate, repopulate the earth,” he answered begrudgingly.
“But what if I get stuck with someone I don’t like?
What if I’m required to move to her town, or worse—a city?
What if I get reassigned as a construction or factory worker?
My aptitude tests locked me into the third tier, but I love farming. It’s all I’ve ever done.”
“Yeah,” Denver said with a devilish grin. “You could get assigned to sewer duty or manure pickup.” He snickered, earning him a glare from Nathan and both parents.
“It wouldn’t be logical to remove you from the commune and retrain you for another career,” Pa said. “It would make more sense for your wife to move here.”
“The Oracle will give you the right match, Nathan,” Doris assured him. “Remember, the Oracle knows best.”
“But what if I love someone else?” Nathan hated the stupid Oracle.
It doesn’t know what’s best for me, he glowered to himself.
He distrusted every word the Core Cult taught.
Random evolution of biological organisms?
Anyone who truly saw nature realized it must have been created by design.
Somewhere out there was a higher being, an intelligence far surpassing the AI.
Why do they not see how the Theocracy manipulates everyone?
They’ve turned us into sheep at best—slaves at worst. Government tests determine our occupations.
The Core proclaims who we must marry. The Ministry dictates the number of our children, where we will live.
I’m surprised they don’t decree how often we’re allowed to take a crap.
His fork clinked on his plate, and he took a long gulp of water.
“I haven’t seen you show interest in any of the local girls.” Pa rested his elbows on the table, sitting forward, peering at Nathan with an expression edging toward empathy.
“Love is overrated,” his mother proclaimed.
“Hearts are fickle, falling out of love just as quickly. But a logical match, based on genetics, mutual interests, and carefully executed algorithms, reflects factors we simple folk might never consider. When I was young, I was infatuated with a shopkeeper’s son in my home village.
I thought he was dreamy handsome, and he was a terrific dancer.
At first, I didn’t want to be matched with anyone else.
Yet when I got to know your father, I realized how much we had in common.
He’s never raised hand or voice to me and is a wonderful provider.
As a farmer’s wife, I’m confident I’ll never go hungry.
Infatuation is based on superficial things, but real love abides.
It’s what sustains us through the winter and gives us songs in the spring.
Don’t be afraid, son. The Oracle truly knows best.”
Nathan loved his mother. She’d fed and clothed him, sang to him, kissed his skinned knees, and always encouraged him.
Doris was a kind, generous woman. But she bought into the Core Cult, root, stalk, and seed.
He remembered discussions he’d had with her in the past, voicing contradicting ideas, raising possibilities that her faith was based on a lie.
“It’s a machine, Mama, not a god,” he’d tried to explain.
She’d start humming, pretending she hadn’t heard.
“Yeah, Nathan. Don’t be a binary-blind glitchwalker. I’ll be super excited to get my wife.” Denver’s brown hair fell in shaggy waves around his neck. He shoveled in another bite.
“But what if she’s ugly?” Eve giggled. The folks of Harmony Ridge might not be as sophisticated as the capital residents, but they had an established scale of what features they found attractive.
Denver shot Eve a glare. Pa held up a hand. “That’ll be enough.”
“Buck teeth like a mule.” Mischievous Eve giggled.
“I said enough,” John repeated in a resonant voice. “Change is always frightening.”
“I’m not scared,” Nathan blurted out. “I just don’t like strangers and machines ordering every aspect of my life. Why is that so hard for y’all to understand? We aren’t meant to be cogs in the Ministry’s wheels. Personal choices should be up to us.”
“I won’t have you repeating that blasphemy at our table,” Doris said, falling into a sullen pout.
“Where did you hear these ideas?” his father asked. “Tina is quite happy in her marriage—has a baby on the way. You’ve read her letters from Lewisburg. Her husband runs a lumber mill, and they’re enjoying life.”
“Nobody put ideas into my head,” he answered, lowering his chin, crossing his arms. “They’re all mine. I’m glad Tina’s happy, but I’m not Tina.” And I want to marry Soren.
It would never happen—not in Appalachia.
For the past three years, staring down his twentieth birthday, Nathan had kept track of the area’s matches.
Students at The Institute in Clover Hollow or Parkersburg were almost always paired, as were academy graduates and those like him with no access to higher education.
Genetics and ethnicity were carefully selected to preserve race while promoting desirable traits—never two short people, dumb people, or sickly people.
Urbanites typically ended up together; the same for country folk.
Usually, twenty-year-olds were wed to each other, but occasionally a widow, a widower, or a divorcee was thrown into the mix if they weren’t too old. Always a man and a woman.
“I’ll get Shepherd Cain to have a talk with him,” his mama said to his pa, as if he wasn’t right there.
“He’ll get through to Nathan. I want our boy to be so happy on his wedding day, excited to start a new life with his appointed bride.
” She passed a sorrowful glance at Nathan. “Not apprehensive like this.”
Nathan dropped his chin, staring at his nearly full plate.
He pictured Shepherd Cyrus Cain parading through the commune in his charcoal robe and multicolored sash, the enormous, shiny sigil pendant—the all-seeing eye—on its silver chain, thumping on his chest with each step, crooked staff in hand, ready to gently guide or harshly rebuke.
Pious, arrogant snake, poisoning the minds of his flock.
Rubbish! No, worse—deceiving, exploiting everyone.
Denver scooped another spoonful of sweet potatoes onto his plate, completely unconcerned with Nathan’s plight.
“Don’t be a hog, Denny,” Eve complained. Nathan didn’t look up.
Or maybe there’s just something wrong with me. Nathan had voiced doubts about the Theocracy, the ministers in the Oligarchy, but never his most personal aberrations. In a world where a man must marry a woman, he felt like a square peg being shoved into a round hole. He didn’t fit.
As he pushed up from the table, Nathan said, “Remember, I’m going to Clover Hollow tomorrow.
The Oracle is speaking. Maybe you’ll get your wish, and I’ll see the light.
” While it was true that an event was being held and thousands would show up to hear the Oracle, he really just wanted to see Soren.
They’d planned to meet at their usual place and time.
“But you haven’t finished your dinner,” Doris despaired.
“Not hungry,” he sighed, excusing himself to retire to his room.
Nathan couldn’t convince his own family, much less fight an entire nation. Before him lay only two choices: go along with the society, obey the Oracle, and pretend all was well, or flee and never look back.