Josiah the Reformer

JOSIAH THE REFORMER

  By Jared Wallace Carter

  Copyright 2013 Jared Wallace Carter

  CHAPTER 1

  The bar and the General met every Tuesday night. It was here that he ordered his favorite brown ale and sat, watching people lie. The reason he enjoyed his time so immensely was because he could relax and be entertained, knowing that the lies he heard did not matter. He did not feel the need to correct anyone. They were petty and harmless.

  There was a woman wearing gaudy jewelry around her neck and wrists, her age probably mid-forties, and she was talking to a handsome young man. Their discussion was heavily one-sided with the woman expounding upon her disappointment in and fear of her young butler who had become aggressively seductive toward her. It was not a typical tale, but the General had heard many women’s conversations share the underlying motive of desperation.

  The man in the frayed hat, the one with a week’s worth of untrimmed, gray beard carrying a cane in one hand and a pint in the other just gave his entire inheritance to the local church. The General perceived that he was no church-going man. All too often people assumed that the church should be the worthy recipient in their tales. The General silently wished that the old man would have pretended to give his money to the nuclear weaponry fund. Even a donation to the mass migration process would have been more interesting. The church was boring and overdone.

  The bartender denied several times of being a communist and philosopher after the ways of the infamous Englishman. His argument was always, “I own a bar for great’s sake!” However, it was in that very bar, in the early hours of the morning that shouts of a secret meeting could be heard.

  The beauty here was that no one was at war with anyone but himself. They were not traitors or terrorists or radicals. They were simple. On this night, the General sat at his back table and relaxed, knowing that lying was simply a way of humanity, and he need not try to stop it all. In fact, he found it rather amusing. Everyone in the bar was fooling and being fooled because they did not want to know anything different.

  It was a near mile from Jack’s office to the General’s bar. No one was driving the roads, but he chose to walk the length despite the cold, dreary flurries. He knew of his friend’s Tuesday night habits and decided to take him up on his offer to “drink intelligently together any time.” It was a matter of confrontation. He knew the General more than most people claimed to. He knew of the man’s ugly past, of his intellectual risings, of his micro-expression interests and the hobby it became. He also knew that, though the General would deny it, he remained strongly influenced by humanism and was quite narcissistic. However, he pretended very well not to be. It came as a product of his studies. Part of the reason the General respected Jack so much was because of his genuineness. “Give me five minutes of conversation with any man and I’ll give you a liar. The only exception has been you.” It was the only compliment Jack had ever held on to.

  He strolled, hugging himself in his thick jacket, on the sidewalk which traveled through the park. Whenever he had a chance he would take this favorite route, glance at the two massive oak trees in the park’s center, follow the four merging streams, and continue on by the fountains and down through the mall.

  He reached the old bar door with no indication of its name or business. “If you don’t know, you don’t belong,” the bartender said. As he opened the door, the heat from a blazing fireplace immediately rushed his face. He glanced around the front, the bar on his left, old wooden tables on his right, mostly seated and mostly talkative. He gave word to the barman, heard word from the barman, and took his drink to a lonely table in the back where the General was seated in the table’s only chair.

  Jack never saw much of his old friend those days. It might even be said that they were no longer friends, only acquaintances. Times had changed. Upon seeing the General, Jack thought it odd that he was not dressed in the usual serious attire of business. The man sat in a heavy flannel shirt, worn khaki pants, and an old pair of tan slippers. It was what a retired man wore while whittling, piecing a puzzle, or reading a book. And so it was what the General wore while enjoying his drink and sit.

  “Well, there you are Jack. Glad you could make it. I hear you’ve been doing plenty fine.”

  “Yes, sir. Plenty enough,” he said as he was about to take his seat.

  “Let me get a handshake from you, Jack, before you sit. There it is. In fact, why don’t you pull up a couple more chairs. I’m expecting some others to join us.”

  Jack did so and took his seat directly across from the General.

  “I’m glad you took me up on my invitation, Jack, especially glad for tonight. But it has been a while. Do I need to remind you?”

  Jack was a freelance journalist and was successful as one because he had the respect and trust of the most interesting man in the country, and often was the only journalistic soul allowed in official meetings and therefore had the monopoly on reporting the decisions and news of the migrations and colonies.

  “No notepad, sir. Not a scratch of paper or a drop of ink. I come only as a friend.”

  “No doubt, no doubt.” His words faded into a mumble as he returned his eyes to the drinking customers. His eyes swept the room and fixed upon a man who had just entered the door, letting in some of the snow from outside, and shaking off the rest as he continued to walk. If he had not the notion of knowing exactly where he was walking to, he looked to be lost. The thin-faced man was dressed in an expensive black suit with an obtrusive green tie. The only word present in Jack’s mind was serpentine. And to the dismay of Jack, the serpentine man bypassed all others, ignored the bartender, and took a seat to his left.

  The General introduced him. He was a high-staking entrepreneur, investor, first-class business man, and as recent, a successful lobbyist. No need to state that his neon tie was bought at a higher price than Jack’s current attire. As he responded with “my pleasure,” Jack watched to see if his tongue flicked. It didn’t. Instead, his small mouth and quite normal tongue started a small-talk conversation about the stock market. He waved to the waitress, ordered a whiskey coffee, Jack his usual gin, and the General had another pint of ale.

  Being caught up in the conversation which turned from the market to the writing styles of the Report, Jack was quite startled when he caught a glimpse of an elderly man directly over his shoulder. Even more to his surprise, the old man clapped his shoulder, shook his hand, and took his seat to the writer’s right. He was a professor and Dean of Humanities at the University of the City. In the academic world he was a highly renowned theorist and was well argued in philosophical and ethical issues, although not everyone agreed that he had the right ideas about ethics. Perhaps the power of his arguments had as much to do with his fatherly tone as with his intellect and wit. He was twenty years passed retirement but still remained at his classroom home. He had said before that the perfect death would be to faint forever before his students with a meaningful yet unfinished sentence. He ordered red wine.

  Whether this was a prior engagement of the other three, Jack did not know, but by the expression on the General’s calm face, he knew that he wasn’t intruding. In fact, the General was genuinely glad that he had made it to this particular discussion. He couldn’t have planned it better.

  The discussion began.

  “To catch you up, Jack, we’ve been meeting quite frequently lately,” a dull tired expression seemed to hide behind his pretense, “discussing the first three colonies. Their successes, failures, the philosophy of it all, and what not. The fact is that we pretty much agree on everything.”

  All knew that the General was a very powerful man, both in stature and in intellect, and much more in authority. Ever since he became the General, g
raduating from his top-rank at the Intellectual Force Agency, and had been seated head of the colonization movement, not many dared oppose the man. This, however, did no good. In fact, it proved much opposite. It was why he cherished his Tuesdays even more so than before. He was never opposed, never challenged, and always knew why. He winked at Jack.

  “And now you have come on the perfect evening with inexplicable timing. For tonight, we talk about the fourth colony of which I believe to be the only colony you hold an interest in. Am I right, Jack?”

  He grinned nervously as he caught on to the General’s invitation. He did know about the fourth colony, and he very much meant to oppose it.

  “I wouldn’t say it’s the only colony I care about, sir.” It felt strange to call him sir, but it seemed to be owed to him nonetheless. “We have many of our people at those colonies. However, they are well-off. I would just say that I have a special interest in the fourth colony.”

  “If anybody knew what we do about the colony, who wouldn’t have a special interest, eh?”

  With a shuffled glance towards the green man who had just snidely spoken, he directed his attention toward the General to reply. He first, however, read the General’s obvious expression and thought it best to address this thought.

  “No one knows from me, sir.” The General was then appeased and relaxed. “That’s just it, though. I would assume most people would be extremely interested, and most likely the majority would have a sort of a fit over the matter!” He was already getting excited, too excited. The eyes of everyone at the table told him so. It had always been the case that he was excitable about the things he cared for most. It was what caused him to be a successful writer. He wrote with passion, convincing his readers to boldly answer what needed to be answered. However, he knew its danger all too well. In his excitement once before, he had made such an exclamation that had caused him to resign from his position in the Department of Ethics. Even though ironic, as crooked as his department was, he was still held to his word under oath, and he had broken that oath. He took a deep breath.

  “It is this that brings up an exact curiosity of mine. If I can be frank with you General, and I believe I can, then let me ask you this. Why do we still have the fourth colony information classified when every bit of the fifth colony is public knowledge? Most people think the fifth colony is the fourth colony!”

  The General took his time to answer. He took a sip from his ale and leaned forward on the table.

  “I don’t know why you’re asking that question, Jack. You know the answer. People just don’t quite understand what is best for them, and for others. If they knew the current situation with the fourth colony, you’re quite right when you say that they would have a fit, but more so than a fit, but rather a moral dilemma.” He then sat back in his chair, casual and relaxed. “So while people are arguing and debating over what should be and how it should be, then positive interests for the project falls, funding drops, and the future of colonization is delayed. And the future of colonization is the future of the people. This is the reason you are here, isn’t it, Jack? You are the people. So the fourth must remain classified for now until it is successful.” Jack knew the colony would never be successful, but he knew better than to say so. “And the fifth colony has well met the criteria for a successful and healthy colony, and may even end up more sustainable than the first, but we won’t be able to agree or disagree with that for another ten years or so. Because of this, we had no reason to withhold information about the fifth, and, as we hoped, it has drawn negative curiosity away from the fourth and has transformed it into positive curiosity towards itself.”

  The General had finished his brief dissertation, drained the remaining ale from his mug, and motioned the waitress for another. The men to his left and right sat smugly in adoration of their idol.

  Jack, on the other hand, was aggravated. The General seemed to be handling the colonists’ happiness and freedom with a rather apathetic approach. After all, what the General had in mind was to imprison these people into their own homes and not even a place the people could consider a home at all. He referred to the colony as a project, and that is precisely the word he meant. It was an experiment. If this colony could be successful, then colonization could spread to more areas more quickly. No more looking for the perfect situation. Can colonies survive harsh realities? It was an important question in need of an answer, and therefore in need of an experiment. But all of this was simply swept under the rug with talk of funding and positive perception. This talk was kept up by the three until Jack could no longer hide.

  “But, General, you must see what you are doing to the colonists is wrong.”

  The two strangers were taken aback and had quickly swung their eyes to Jack. The General still remained quite calm, but his face showed an expression of strength and sternness.

  “Jack, I have this respect for you of a different sort than I do for most people, but I will withdraw it if you openly portray me as a man careless of his people. Let me let you in on something you have apparently missed. I do not create colonies to destroy people’s lives. I create colonies to expand life so that it can experience a newness that has never been experienced before, and all this while knowing it as a regularity. That is my work. I do not create despair for people. And yes, certain actions were taken, deemed by you to be wrong, that have secured the safety of the happiness of the people. So, Jack, why do you call what I do wrong?”

  Immediately, Jack regretted the particular phrasing of his accusation and of the interruption it caused. He was taken aback at the tone of the General who had apparently taken his question as a disrespectful attack. It was nothing of the sort. He tried to rephrase.

  “General, please excuse me. I didn’t mean that you are in the wrong, but that–”

  “But that is precisely what you meant, Jack. So, let me say ‘please’ this time, and please get to your argument before you say more that you regret. I know your views on this matter, but not to a point. This is the very reason I am glad you have come, so that you can tell me that I am wrong, but do so with reason and not out of hot-headedness. Hot-headedness leads to hot arguments, and then these gentlemen here will get riled up. And we can’t have that because then we will be worse along than if we had not gathered here at all, and you will probably leave us feeling quite ill with yourself. So please, continue and explain.”

  The General held Jack as an intellectual friend, “a man worth talking with,” as he would say. Despite him thinking of Jack as a little naive in his views on “imaginary men” and morality, he respected Jack for arguing well on their behalf. So he ordered Jack another drink and motioned for him to continue.

  “It’s just that when you, or rather we, confine these people to the structure without letting them outside, it seems that we are trapping them without the hope of anything good, without beauty, and without freedom.”

  “I don’t feel like I have to ask you, Jack, but apparently I do. Do you not realize that we cannot let them outside because it is dangerous?”

  “I know all about it, sir, but what about the dusk or the dawn? Can they not enjoy themselves, even then?”

  “Sorry to intrude, but I feel I have a question for you, young man, before you continue on. I feel it to be quite important.” It was the first time that the old professor addressed him. “What do you mean by ‘enjoy’?”

  “Excuse me,” he replied only because it was all he could reply. He unconsciously assumed that all knew the meaning of enjoy very well, for it was very often used.

  “What do you mean in saying the word ‘enjoy’?” The professor rephrased the question, but the rephrasing had no different meaning than the original question. However, he then realized that the professor knew the definition of enjoy, of course, but it was not the definition that was in the question but the philosophy of it, the essence of the meaning he had used.

  “I quite agree with the professor, Jack.” Once again, the General took over the discussion. The p
rofessor beamed with even more pride than before, revealing that his smile lacked a couple of teeth. “I feel you have a manipulated sense of joy. What makes you think that being free in the twilight will be joy rather than pain, or satisfaction rather than unfulfillment? For what good is it to know that something exists but never being able to see it in its fullness and perfection? Why would you only let them see the birth and death of a day without seeing the life of it?”

  “I’m no philosopher, General, but rather straightforward. What I’m trying to say is that the people would be happier if they could see the nature even just part of the day rather than being trapped the entirety of their lives. It just doesn’t seem right.”

  “Through your eyes, Jack, they are trapped, but only through your eyes. They see life as they only can, the way that they know it. If I was one of these people, and I was able to see the birth of the day, I would strive to see its life, just as I would see that my newborn son would grow through life. I realize that you have no children of your own, Jack, but let’s just imagine that you had a son and were only allowed to see his birth and death. Is that happiness? Would you enjoy that? If I know you at all, Jack, you would be tortured by this and would desire to see your son live. It is because of this yearning that they cannot see it at all. Because if they never see it, then they will never miss it. You know it’s often said that you don’t know what you’ve missed, but I say if you don’t know then you haven’t missed anything at all, and if they get just a glimpse as you are suggesting, that will drive them mad, mad enough to rebel against the limits of the dusk and dawn which will lead them to experience the unkindly strength of the sun.”

  Even though the discussion continued and he still fought for the rights of the colonists, his words were weak because he was convinced that the General was right, and not only just right but perfectly right in the sense that if anything differed in the slightest it would be wrong. He washed his failure down with his remaining drink. He was only talking because it was his duty, not because he was trying to change anything. So he meandered through his meaningless questions and responses and came to a silent, unknown agreement, although not unknown to the General, that the colonists should be trapped in their own isolated lives and minds. It would serve the best for the well-being of the people. The conversation then turned to more light-hearted philosophy of which Jack remained mostly silent. For him, the night slowly drew to a close. Finally the waitress collected the often-filled mugs and glasses and cleared their wooden table. As they rose, Jack addressed an issue that had been plaguing his mind for the past dizzying hour.

  “There is one more thing, General, that I’m worried about. The people there now, in the fourth colony, well, they are from here. They have experienced daylight to the fullest and through all of their lives. You can’t take that away from them. And because they will remember life here, they will hate life there. Although the future colonists may be free in the entrapment, the first generation will see that the day is being withheld and that they are stuck for the rest of their lives in a dark dungeon, however elaborate that dungeon might be. They didn’t have a choice. They didn’t know where they were going or what they were getting into. They were blindly led into this captivity. How will you address that?”

  “I’m glad you asked that, Jack, and I would have been disappointed in you if you hadn’t, but I’m sorry to inform you that I cannot give you the details of the solution. Just know that it’s being taken care of by the Captain and his team.”

  “That’s a pretty big issue, General, and you’re really saying that’s all that you can tell me?”

  “That’s all that I will tell you, and let’s leave it at that. Have a good night.”

  And the four men walked outside.

  ---

  Before the colony was ever discussed openly, it had to be planned in the quiet. There were few who ever knew all the details of the fourth colony. For most, including the architect, they saw the colony in dim light.

  The elderly architect had had his hand in the development of another colony, but that was years ago. Since then, his hand had become plagued with severe arthritis and could not even grip a pencil to write his name, let alone draw out drafts or blueprints. However, there was not another man that the General could trust with the assignment. So if there was no one else, the General would also have to trust the elderly architect’s amanuensis who happened to be the architect’s own son. In the General’s experience, although a creative and mathematical mind may be genetic, trust is not. A man is born with a blank slate. Scoundrels can be raised by saints and saints by scoundrels. But in this case he had no choice. The son was the right hand to his father. Everything the father described, the son understood. He was a prodigy, but he was also a wasted prodigy. All he did was draw line by line, curve by curve as was dictated by his father. There was not a single mark on that paper that was of the son’s own origin.

  They had their own elaborate system in developing plans. Instead of pinpointing by his crooked hand, he would pinpoint by mouth, identifying points on his patented grid paper. The son who had worked for so long with his father knew what to do when certain instructions were given. Slide, corner, grin, bridge, veer, line, stag, kiss, level, etc. Mathematical art is what the young man called it. The father simply called it work.

  These were the requirements given. The colony must be contained in one structure or all structures must be linked with indoor connections. The structure must harness available energy. It must meet the specified size and area to contain residencies, hospitals, laboratories, employment facilities, etc. The layout must be complex enough to hinder exploration while at the same time hinder boredom. A strange requirement. But what struck the architect strangest of all was the elaborate fire prevention and extinguishing requirement yet a very specific requirement of only a limited number of exits and those to be unnoticeable. Considering the size and population, it didn’t calculate correctly, not even close. However, it didn’t much matter. The requirements were highly classified as would be his own blueprints, and there would be no second guessing the General and no second opinions allowed.

  The two artists worked together for long hours scrapping many works that would have been considered suitable. The old man detested suitable. He came across many suitable designs in his life. Does it work? Yes, it serves its purpose. But is it beautiful? Is it practical to the utmost? No. No it’s not. So scrap it and start over.

  The colony took on a dome shape with exits at North, South, East, and West. Only four. And unnoticeable. An inner wall allowed a buffer of ten feet between itself and the outer wall. It was then quartered to be used efficiently in whatever space may be used in each. The inner wall would contain four entrances per quarter at equal distances. Firm walls ran from the inner wall to the center without any openings until it met a circular center which would be further designed into the social center. Each quarter would climb four levels and fall two.

  It was this work that brought the two to a meeting with the General at their own working space. “Always better to work where you work best,” he said over the phone, “if that’s alright with you.” Of course, the architect wouldn’t refuse this man’s wishes, and so the General was invited over to the old man’s own house where he had his office in what was once a spare study.

  The General stood at the door. He held his breath for a moment only to get a sense of relief upon his release. The bothersome troubles of the tens of meetings were piling upon his back and creating such a burden. None lately were progressive.

  He knocked. The door was open. Greetings were given. Quickly to the point, the business began after coffee was offered and denied.

  The General wore his professional attire and spoke with a professional air, representing the authority he knew the elder to hold for him.

  “I don’t quite know if you understand the importance of this colony. I realize that the guidelines that I gave you may have been strange, but this colony is also a little different th
an the others. I hope that I’m not offending you in withholding some of this information. It is still highly classified.”

  The General could care less if the classification offended the architect. It would always remain classified no matter how offensive it may be. It was only that the man was his elder, and for that reason he held up this pretense.

  “Not in the least, sir. You are in such a position to do so. In fact, nothing else was necessary to accomplish this task. Consider me a mathematician that only needs an equation to solve. Are you sure you would not like something to drink?”

  “It won’t be necessary. Have you the plans ready?”

  “Of course.” The old man led him into his room of work. He had already prepared for the General’s visit. The room’s walls were plastered with photographs of the great built feats of the ages. A large window lit the room with soft sunlight and looked out upon his garden. It was in that garden that his hands found their only activity. Carved models of his previous projects sat upon tables and stands. In the center stood a large easel holding his current plans but hidden by a draping, tan sheet. A single, deep red mahogany chair sat before the easel as if a throne for the General.

  Instead of taking his seat, he peered at the plastered photographs and was immediately startled at what he saw.

  “Is this the Parthenon? And the Taj Mahal!”

  “I believe it is, sir, though I must confess to knowing very little about them.”

  “I have not seen this in another man’s possession in all my life. They are absolutely beautiful.”

  “That’s the only thing I truly know of them. And that there are no more architects that can accomplish such beauty.”

  He had the General’s full attention. A man with such history in his house must be a man of greatness. Even if he knew so little, at least he knew.

  “May I take you up on that coffee?”

  He took it with three spoons of sugar and no cream. As the General sat in his red throne, the architect withdrew the sheet in a quick, sweeping motion. There stood, in detail, the fourth colony.

  “I thought it the most natural thing to make it a dome. It gives the layout a circular shape in which allows us a good bit of playing room as far as the complexity of the layout goes. The idea of multiple buildings with connectors seems pointless and might even lead to some curiosity, and as I can understand, curiosity must be downplayed. The hallways and wings will cause the separation needed and depending on the details of these halls will at least hinder boredom in the colony. However, it’s only a matter of time before the people start exploring sections unless actions on your part are taken, whatever those actions may be.”

  The colony was lined almost like a maze, hallways leading to hallways leading to doorways and rooms. However, it was organized and focused. It was simple enough as to not lead to confusion. It was very well planned.

  “Also, it is perfect for energy and considering the uniqueness of the colony and based on what you informed me, I figured that the energy source would be quite obvious to you. And so the exterior is lined accordingly.

  “Another thing is this; you said that it must not lead to exploration. If that is the case, then I believe your colony should be focused on the social life. This isn’t technically my field of expertise, but if you’re asking for my opinions then please take this as well.”

  He pointed to the very inner circle.

  “This is the social area or the common area or whatever you want to call it. It should draw the people away from the edges to the center to stifle exploration and to fulfill boredom. It’s the only place to be a part of the people as a whole. This is your social area, your entertainment area, the area that keeps them focused. It should be in the very center of everything.”

  The General couldn’t suppress his grin. He was very pleased. After so many failed and disappointing discussions and meetings, something was finally right. Something was finally working. The colony was finally progressing. He sat happily, contemplating the intelligent design and sipped his coffee going over every minute detail of the great architecture’s masterpiece.

  “The only regret I have about this is that I cannot tell the world about this. It’s history. It’s your Parthenon. However, it has to remain silent. And we must be content to know between ourselves that no one could have done better.”

  The old man broke into a large yellow grin.

  “Thank you, thank you! I don’t care for the fame. I don’t know who built the great feats, I only wish to see them. Would it be possible, sir, if I’m still alive, to visit the colony once it has been built?”

  “On my word, you can.”

  He knew the architect would die before the chance came to fulfill the promise. He knew his words were empty. In fact, the old man died the next month while tending to his garden.