Hereafter

Hereafter: Part II Graduation Day, Chapter 23

23

SEVERAL MORE WEEKS of nonstop work and we’d made significant progress. Birkhoff figured out how to get the screen on the other end to not only display the sent message, but also vibrate in a Morse Code-like twice, pause, then, twice more to let the user know a letter message was just received. After he installed the program on our phones, we practiced sending each other letter phrases or “posts” as we all came to call them. The next problem was to automate the code install.

Our hardware expert, Liza, got the idea to connect the phones using the jack at the end of the charging adapter. She rigged up a cable with the charging jack at both ends so that one phone could connect with another quickly and easily. Birkhoff added a simple autorun line of code to launch the install upon connecting. Everything seemed to be working perfectly. Now it was time to battle-test the concept.

“All right . . . this is good . . . Liza, that guy in shipping, do you think he’d want to join us . . . have his phone setup for posting? If he does, we’ll give him a cable so he setup his friends, and he can give an extra cable to Kristen so she can recruit people inside the Citadel. Guys, am I forgetting anything?” I put out there, my normally precise mind caught up in the distraction of a frantic frenzy of competing ideas and possibilities.

“You’re worried about finding recruits for your little rebellious insurrection? Guess again! You’re problem . . . our problem is going to be containing this once it starts spreading!” Birkhoff barked, shaking his head at the obvious implications for completely disrupting the relative peace and stability that was life outside of the Citadel.

“Containing . . . that word doesn’t begin to cover the most likely fallout from this. Don’t you two realize that people are going to die if we disrupt the peace in any way? We really should put the brakes on this whole ill-advised venture before it’s too late,” Liza warned, a little disappointed with herself for backing off of something we all knew shouldn’t be delayed.

“Elizabeth . . . listen to yourself . . . people are already dying, and being kidnapped, and who knows what happens to them once they’re inside the Citadel. Someone has to do something, no matter the consequences for us. You know we can’t do this without you. Look, we’ll go slow and only move forward after talking it over. Does that work for you?” I proposed, respecting her feelings, but hoping my rigid resolve would cage her concerns of a coming catastrophe.

Birkhoff just sat their, rolling his eyes . . . looking forward to the fight, the glorious defiant struggle, but also knowing things could get ugly. When I finished, he decided to back my play.

“Hey . . . she’s right, you know. Anyway, did you forget, your mother might still be alive. Don’t you want to see her again and if this works, possibly have her back in your life?”

Elizabeth wasn’t much for showing emotion, but the mention of her mother opened a memory channel back deep into her childhood. Tears came first, then, inconsolable sobbing. It took a long, reassuring three-way hug to calm her down.

“Look . . . I know we have to do this. What’s wrong with the Citadel anyway? Why don’t they understand that if any one individual is suffering, we’re all in pain?” Elizabeth decided, spitting the words past the stream of tears that had settled on and around her lips.

Listening to what she said, my eyes opened wide recognizing that Liza had stumbled onto what might be an important Truth, but one that wasn’t yet part of any organized set of cultural or religious values in our society. If she was right, if everything and everyone were connected, then, it would make sense to argue for and push the Citadel to change the way they exploit most of the souls in our society. Soul—that’s another heady concept that only the fringe-group Beltans believe might be the case—a part of us that isn’t flesh and blood, something that lives on after we die.