The Mindless Man's Paradise

Chapter five

SHQ officers had told me I could just stay the night in the Boy’s room anyways.

 I did, but I sensed his ghost. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep on the bed, so I slept on the floor using a pillow and blanket.

 It even smelled like him.

 I hadn’t even noticed that he’d had a particular scent.

 Did it always feel like this? Did Mother feel this horrendous angst in the pit of her stomach?

 No, probably not. Mother had never been to SHQ. Mother had been a good child with a normal brain. I just willingly and knowingly sent someone there. I knew what they’d do to him. No doubt it could be worse for him since he was older and the infraction was larger.

 I found myself crying; sobbing. I would never be able to sleep.

 How could something right feel so wrong?

 There was a war waging inside my head. One side telling me the HQ was wrong, this was morally incorrect. The other side told me that HQ was right; I was helping keep The Land at peace.

 I could hear what Mother would tell me.

 “Daughter, you are finally growing up. Every Infractor you report is another step closer to a war-free world.”

 I could hear Father, too.

 “Maybe you are normal after all.”

 But was I normal?

 The Journey was supposed to show people their destinies. It was supposed to show them the shelter and wonderfully beautiful life that HQ provided us. It all ended with a life full of love and promises of riches and non-stop fun in the Society.

 35.7 degrees north, 83.5 degrees west.

 For a moment, I imagined running away with the Boy. Maybe living in the woods, building a house, maybe even have kids and grow old together.

 But that was wrong.

 What I had done was right.

 Yet, the more I thought about it, the more wrong it felt. But HQ would tell me otherwise.

 HQ knows best. Always have, always will.

 Finally, I fell asleep, but only when light had bled through the shutters and birds had started to chirp. I had stayed up all night wallowing in my own sorrow.

 When I had arisen from my slumber, the boys were all gone from their dormitories; they most likely were at work.

 I knew it wasn’t crop season, but there was always work to be done in the agricultural division.

 Father told me girls had the easier jobs. Mother always insisted that they were of equal importance and labor.

 I remembered the textile factories were always the worst in the summers. There was no air conditioning and despite what you may think, making clothes works up a sweat.

 I worked in the shirt sector, and our sector’s supervisor didn’t let us have any water. She said it would motivate us to work faster knowing that after we met the day’s quota we could get some water. She did know what she was talking about though; I worked much faster knowing that water would be my reward.

 It calmed me to think of the textile factory. Maybe one day I would end up being a sector supervisor.

 Truthfully, I missed the textile factories more than anything.

 Groaning, I threw the covers off of me and took a nice hot shower.

 The hot water soothed my mind as well, and for the time being, I was rid of my guilty conscience. It was nice to be clean and smelling like roses instead of dirt again. But I knew it wouldn’t be for long.