Novus Ordo Seclorum

Chapter Four

Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.

Anais Nin

Ann

The noise inside the terminal was deafening. People milled like sheep in a pen. All Mary could see were men and women her own age, each carrying two small bags. The men were mostly dressed in a dapper style: even if they were wearing jeans, they were well fitted and pressed. The women, on the other hand, all looked frumpy, thanks to the mandatory uncut hair and long skirts. Because of the size of the crowds expected, the agency had canceled all other flights that day, and only one family member could see a senior off. Sean had volunteered to bring Mary to the aerodrome. Mary still couldn't get over the Turner administration's penchant for dredging up archaic words. It seemed as if they wanted the populace to relive the Victoria era, and began by making them use archaic vernacular.

Mary kissed Sean goodbye at the security gate, and turned to wave again after she passed through. Walking down the concourse to the departure gate, she noticed what seemed to be an equal number of men and women. This was something very unusual for any age group, as the government tended to keep the sexes segregated religiously. There was also the usual contingent of security personnel. No matter how often she saw them, Mary never became accustomed to the brown shirts with the stylized double S's on the insignia over the Sam Brown belts. Little alarm bells always went off in her head when she saw them.

Mary stepped into the queue designated for her month of birth. There were supposed to be twenty-four cars on the shuttle-train, with the quarters assigned apparently by dates of birth rather than sex, ethnicity or any of the more prevalent means of separating the masses. There seemed to be a sameness in the faces of the assembled horde. Most appeared to be Anglo-Saxon or Nordic, with only a smattering of Hispanics and Orientals. No blacks at all, as the government considered their heritage too diverse to be legitimately traced. Under the Administration's Doctrine of Ethnicity, in order to be in line for any government job opening, or any position that didn't include the heaviest manual labor or sticking your hands in somebody else's toilet, it was necessary to provide a copy of the family tree. The purer the heritage, the higher rank one could attain. Mary's own family was Irish for at least four generations back. She supposed that was all there was in her family, unless a thorough search turned up some Viking raider in 840 A.D. Sean always said he could be president if he wanted, their lineage was so pure. In return, Mary responded that Sean couldn't be president, as he was too honest.

The presence of so many people her own age was a surprise. It was rare so many seniors would be allowed to congregate in one place for any length of time. Official policy read that it was to "avoid the spread of airborne pathogens that often accompanies a large portion of the senior population."

Mary knew the real reason was to avoid the spread of intelligent dialogue and the exchange of ideas.

She shifted the bags she carried, and began to pay attention what everyone else was carrying. Most, like Mary, had two small bags, one for clothing for the trip, which

was limited to what could be carried on board, and a second valise or shoulder bag for medicines, personal care items, and in Mary's case, writing materials and her old MP3 player. They had gone out of style about twenty years ago, and you had as much chance of finding downloads as a 75-rpm record, but Mary refused to give in to the new electronic music that had eliminated any live musicians.