Opposition

Some references to incarceration, death and/or execution.

Charity Chambers involuntarily shuddered as she walked toward the imposing edifice. She took a deep breath and forced her gait to be strong and steady as she approached the guard tower. With her head held high, she glared at the guard, her eyes piercing his, looking for any sign of life in his blank stare. He stood at attention, stoically acknowledging her presence as she scowled.

“Here,” she said, her voice firm as she gave him her paperwork. The slight tremble of her hand was the only sign of the trepidation she felt.

Of course, the guard didn’t notice the shaking hand. He made no indication he noticed her white dress or perfect make-up. Charity was pretty sure he had no idea why she was at the gate. He was half machine. Oh, he looked normal, all right, but his robotic demeaner gave him away. He was just another human that had been imbedded with a computer chip and was controlled by the elites. A cyborg.

Cyborgs had a blind spot for nuance. And they were almost completely devoid of emotion. As smart as they were, with all the data they had access to, they no longer understood the finer things in life like love, empathy, and kindness. It wasn’t part of the programming.

“That’s how we are going to beat them,” Joseph often told her. Until he was caught.

It was him that she was going to see. For the last time.

Slowly, the guard read the amnesty order. Charity had memorized every word of it, looking for loopholes. Good for 2 hours only. Just enough time, but not a minute more. For 2 hours she could walk into the city without repercussions, and had a few minutes to visit the jail. The cyborgs would keep an eye on her, she knew, but wouldn’t arrest her. They were programmed to follow orders. Once the time passed, however, she would again be sought as an enemy of the state. 

Her parents had told her of the time before the Transition. That’s what they called it. Transition – such an innocuous word. Before Transition, there was peace and joy, love and contentment. But it wasn’t a perfect time, her parents had said. There were also wars and hunger and poverty. Humans harming other humans.

Still, it was better than now, in the era of the Transition. That’s when the ruling elite got together and decided they knew a more effective way to improve society. Technology had advanced to the point of successfully merging machines with living creatures. Imbedding computer chips into the brains of ordinary people was all the rage. It would make people smarter, superior. The goal sounded innocent enough. . . at first. To make humanity more humane.   

Something went awry, though, as the rich and powerful found that with imbedded computer chips, they could control the masses. Over time, they wanted more and more control. And power. Eventually, it was required that all people have a computer chip installed in their brain by the age of five. Except the ruling class, of course. The stated reason was to protect life by eliminating all societal agitators. The elite rationed that group think was better than discourse. Harmony, albeit forced, was better than war. Conformity was better than individuality.

Born was a world of cyborgs, cold and unfeeling, like the guard standing before her.

Charity and her older brother, Thomas, were only children when their parents fled the city and hid in the nearby mountains.  In hiding, they met similar families, all longing for days of yore, refusing to comply with the new laws. Mr. and Mrs. Duncan, and their son Joseph, were among those they met, living high on the mountain’s summit.

When Joseph and Thomas were old enough, they started an opposition movement. They organized raids on the computer chip companies, destroying what they could. It was dangerous work, and when caught, the offenders were put to death. Or worse, they became cyborgs, with newly implanted chips and erased memories.

Joseph and Thomas were numbers one and two on the Transition government’s most wanted list. The opposition movement was growing, and the two friends were gaining popularity as their daring exploits were having an effect. 

Charity was also listed as an enemy of the state, simply for being Thomas’s sister. But, secretly, she was part of the movement and helped the cause in her own way. She was a magnificent artist, and began drawing cartoons of the city elites. Ugly, mocking drawings that Joseph and Thomas would spread around as propaganda during their raids. Occasionally, she even accompanied the raiders and adorned buildings with her artwork. This angered the elite, who sought the identity of the culprit.

With a common cause and a deep friendship, Joseph and Charity became very close. It was four months ago that Joseph had proposed. The moment was magical, with both promising to join together to fight for love and freedom.

As the guard opened the gate, Charity fought back tears, thinking of her beloved, now caged within the stone walls in front of her. 

“Today should be a happy day. I’m to get married,” she muttered under her breath. She vowed not to let Joseph see her cry, no matter what pain she felt.

The cyborg guard led her into the chapel. The priest was there, along with more cyborgs. The chapel itself was very plain. Stone walls, like the rest of the prison, with four rows of pews and a wooden alter. Nothing ornate. Not like the big cathedrals found in town. And not exactly the venue she had envisioned, as a young girl, for her wedding. But it’s fine, she thought as she looked around. She would have married Joseph anywhere.

Joseph wasn’t there yet, and neither was her brother, Thomas. Thomas was captured at the same time as Joseph. The same raid. A raid Joseph hadn’t planned attending. He had been very ill, with a high fever, barely able to lift his head. But Thomas had asked, and Joseph couldn’t let him down. So he went. Somehow, the cyborgs had advance warning of this particular raid and they were both arrested.

As she stood in the chapel waiting, Charity hoped Thomas would be allowed to attend the ceremony. Truthfully, she didn’t know if her brother was still at the jail, moved elsewhere, or if he had been executed. Or worse. She prayed she would see him one last time. Before the brutal cyborgs had their way with him.

The door to the prison ward open.  Charity gasped when she saw Joseph. She flew into his arms; no guard could have stopped her. Despite her best efforts, tears soaked his shirt as she buried her head into his chest.

“Come now,” Joseph said. “A girl on her wedding day should be happy.”

“I a..am,” Charity stammered. “Th…these must be happy tears.”

Joseph took Charity’s face in his hands. “Then let me look at that happy face,” he said.

“What, what happened to your hands, your fingers? They are broken, raw. What did they do to you?” His fingers were bleeding, cut to the bone.

Joseph smiled, “I left you a present. I have announced to the world my love for you. No one can erase the words now etched in the stone walls of my cell. Tomorrow, I will be no more, but my love for you lives on in stone, forever.”

The priest interrupted their brief tête-à-tête. “Ahem. We only have five minutes. If you are to marry, I need to conduct the ceremony now, before Joseph is returned to his cell.”

With a short preamble, that neither Joseph nor Charity heard, the priest then said, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Duncan, you may kiss your bride.”

Joseph tenderly kissed his new wife, once. That was all they would allow. One kiss to last a lifetime. As he was escorted out of the chapel, Charity vowed she would continue the fight. In the names of her husband and her brother.

The next morning, Joseph was executed for being one of the leaders of the Opposition Party. It was months before Charity learned that her brother had suffered the same fate, only the day before her wedding.

In the years that followed, paintings depicting her brother and husband fighting for freedom randomly appeared on buildings around the city. The drawings were seen as a rallying cry. Joseph and Thomas were celebrated as heroes among the Opposition Party. Flyers showing the elite class as cartoonish pigs and mis-formed cyborgs were spread around as well. The propaganda campaign was effective as the raids continued, and the strength of the opposition grew. 

The origins of the artwork remained undetermined for years with the culprit listed as number one on the state’s most wanted list. 

At the advanced age of seventy-five, Charity was ultimately caught, and brought to prison. It was there that she finally saw the messages Joseph had left her, carved by his bare hands, into the stone walls of his cell. It brought her back to a day long ago. As traced each word with her own fingers, tears flowing liberally, she felt as she did a young bride.

Days later, Charity joined her late husband in the realm of the beyond. 

Upon hearing of her death, thousands of her fellow opposition patriots stormed the city, celebrating the life of not two, but three, heroes.