“Alright, yeah, we live under a different system, but surely you can’t disagree that this system isn’t better. Look at what it’s done for all of us. I mean, c’mon, there is global peace now. That has only been a concept till recently in our history.”
“All I am saying is, sure we have free things, like college for all, and the world is at peace too, but at what cost did we take to get there?”
“Your presentation will be very interesting. Just be careful how off base you get though, don’t want a Party Rep docking you.”
“The cost is freedom as we can see.”
“What, you mean the freedom to go make poor decisions and fuck up our world more? No thanks, I don’t want that type of free will. I am proud of what we have, what the Party has done. It’s given us freedom from those evils now. Freedom from war, freedom from scarcity…”
Isaac cuts me off, “Okay, okay, I know the Creed and shit too.”
We drive on the route going deeper into the state park, eventually approaching a turnoff on the road where I pull over. I realized I’ve never showed him this little place.
“What’s up?” says Isaac.
I turn the car off and open my door. “Come on, check this out.”
We walk down a little trail through blackberry bushes that enter into a meadow. “See those roses growing all crazy over there.” I point out the patches of them.
“Yeah, they’re pretty and shit, so what?”
“They weren’t there till my freshmen year. A floral truck crashed a while back, and I guess the seeds flew out into the meadow, where the roses grew the next spring.”
Isaac starts on his next ancient. “Why do you know this?”
“Serena and me had sex over there our first time.”
“That’s a weird name for a boy.”
I have to grin. “Shut up. Anyway, she told me about the roses as we came out here.”
“She’s single now, right? I could use that story when I take her out here.”
I push him down, and we get back on our way to the car.
The route finishes going through the park and takes us through the other side of downtown. It’s nearing the evening and the bars are picking up. We plan out which ones we’ll hit as the route reconnects, forming into one big circle. It’s our circle. The place we call home. Where we spend our weekends drinking, our afternoons cruising and trying to pick up girls, and our free time talking in the car while I drove, about whatever was important to us at the time.
III
Today is the last day of midterms at North Carolina State University. It’s the end of the afternoon as I walk down my usual hallway to my favorite class—but I can’t fight off this anxiety. Remain optimistic, you are going to pass and graduate from Junior year, you just know it. And after that, from there, you only have one year left before that BA in Global Studies and having earned a diploma of achievement.
“One hour to Sol System,” says the intercom.
I feel a bump against my arm and I realize my eyes are closed. I open them and look over, it’s Isaac, but he’s dressed like a marine, between his legs he cradles a black rifle. He hands me a piece of paper and a pen with a word written on it. My eyes really open and the sleep leaves them as they are replaced with my surroundings: the noise and rumble of marines around me preparing, Party Representatives in their field fatigues routinely hobbling down the rows to give us encouragement, followed next by some chaplain to give god’s word, and the occasional turbulence that tosses the ship. Here we are, all of us drafts squished into this space carrier, sweating in fear for our lives, trying hard to remain brave by shouting the Creed and Morals to each other, trying to act strong before our first battle.
Wait, one hour? Christ, then we actually begin our war. Will we survive the atmosphere battle and landing phase onto the planet? Then what? Will I die? How long will I make it? I can’t even imagine returning home… I am so far away, isolated. Oh god, how bad will it hurt if I’m shot?
Meal containers are handed down the rows of seated marines. We all pass. My stomach is in knots. One marine throws up, his puke floats in the zero gravity hull as others next to him try to bag it so it doesn’t spread. “We’re going to die,” someone moans.
I nod to Isaac, and look at the paper he handed me. The first word says Fuck. My lips break into a tense grin. That’s Isaac, wanting to start something like this silly poem game in inappropriate times. Well, let’s see then I guess, I have to write a new line off the letters of his last word.
Fast undertakings cause karma,
I give him back the paper, and lay my head against the hard plastic seat I am buckled in, and view the netting holding supplies above me. My headache grows, and soon it’s throbbing relentlessly. God, how I wish I had some painkillers. Deep breath Peter, whatever you do, don’t focus on that fucking horrible headache you have growing. I gaze back at the supplies in the netting above me. A blue combat helmet, with the white bold abbreviation UN, gazes back at me through the mesh. I’ll do the Creed, everyone does the Creed, the Creed helps.
Deep breath.
First, no man is as strong or capable as they can be when not part of the whole.
Deep breath.
Second, find strength in the whole. This is my community of brothers and sisters.
Deep breath.
Third, never let the revolution die. Fight valorously for the ideals created by the Fathers.
I cough on the next breath. Ah god, this headache! I lower my head into my hands. Concentrate.
Those ideals are: unity, defense of social morals, and the continued fight against the ever encroaching evils of discontent and dissidence.
Now the reason the Herculeans are my enemy. Earth is a unity of humanity. The Herculeans clearly threaten that with their massacre of fellow humans.
Deep breath—but I can’t breathe. My lunges feel like two boulders sinking into a lake. Breathing only gets harder, the pain in my head sharper. I stop to suck in oxygen for a while. I will have to finish the Creed some other time. I rub my temples to try and alleviate the migraine, but my heart still races. Reciting the values are not enough to ease this tension. I close my eyes to dream, to a better place.
It’s my last midterm today as I prance down the hallway to the classroom. And as if fate, my last midterm is also my favorite class, Peace and Conflict Resolutions. It has become my favorite class so much it has actually convinced me to switch majors to Global Studies. One day I’ll work for the United Nations, this class has shown me that. From there, I’ll aid in the continual effort to disarm the weapon stockpiles of countries after the Terrible War, ending the last reminder of humanity’s final conflict, and truly solidifying global peace that the Fathers have worked tirelessly to create. After all, they always said it is my generation that would succeed in doing it, for we are the Pure Generation, the Golden Youth.
I pause before the door to my class taking out my painkiller bottle, and pop a few. I enter the class and that aura of serenity from the joy of learning fills my presence. Sitting right before me is Professor Mr. Martin behind his desk, waiting in anticipation upon hearing our presentations, whether he is genuinely excited or nervous about the reaching the graduation quota, I don’t know.
“Afternoon, Peter,” says Mr. Martin with a smile, easing the wrinkles in his face, “I look forward to yours.”