Progtopia: Book 1 of The Progtopia Trilogy (12 page)

Twenty-three

The Year: 2172

Thatcher was pacing in her home’s sewing room. She stopped and started to hover over Jake, silently prompting him to hurry. He looked up behind him, irritated. “Can you please give me some space? I’m trying to work here. Standing over me won’t make this move any faster. Besides, since when do you care about fashion?”

“I’ve always cared.”

Before Jake could answer, Thatcher’s inebriated mother interjected. “Jake, darling, she needs to look good for the commission ceremony and,” she emphasized, “Thomas Quinn will be accompanying her.”

The humming of the sewing machine stopped for a moment, and Jake looked up at Muriel, as if to say, I don’t really care.

His look was completely missed by the drunken woman. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been living under a rock for the last month. Thatcher and Thomas are quite the pair.”

“Mother, would you please stop? I’m sure Jake has more important things to do than worry about who I’m with.”

“I must be under a rock because I really didn’t know. Well, I will make sure you look extra special—just for Thomas Quinn,” underlying sarcasm in his voice. The truth was, Jake was well aware of her relationship with Thomas. You would have to be in a coma not to know it. It was all over the media. They were being portrayed as the new and exciting young officials who could take the world by storm. Jake realized he never really had a chance with Thatcher, but ever since Nikolai was gone and she was with Thomas, things were very different between them. She was different—more distant.

“Well, I fixed the stitching. This should look great on you. If you want, you can try it on to make sure it fits.”

Thatcher took the dress into the changing room, and moments later, exited in a long formfitting white gown. As Jake was admiring her, Muriel heard someone coming down the hallway and exclaimed, “Well, well, who do we have here?”

In walked Thomas Quinn. The moment his eyes caught Thatcher’s, he stopped. “Wow, you look stunning.” A pang of jealousy ripped through Jake, but there was nothing he could do.

“Thanks, Thomas. Let me grab some of my things, and we can all leave.” She walked out of the room without saying a word to Jake.

“Well, I guess my work is done,” Jake murmured to no one. He gathered up his things and left.

Commission Day. It was one of the biggest days for both the parents and students of the Institute of Progress and Forward Thinking. For many in the world, it was treated like a sporting event. Certain government agencies had a fast-track to the upper echelon of the world political system than others, and everyone knew it. The Giving Class had its favorite students and was hoping for them to land a good spot on this day. One’s career could begin or end on Commission Day depending on where they were placed.

About a month before Commission Day, student profiles were released to the public, and the instant they were, a media frenzy ensued until the last student was placed. Shows were dedicated to interviewing students, taking public opinion polls, and analyzing how government could change depending on where people were placed. It didn’t used to be that way. In fact, students would be told on the last day of class about their placement, and they would go home. No one even paid attention. The State thought, however, this was another way to merge media and government.

The most prestigious agency to work for was, of course, the Judge’s. Although he could influence the selection committee as to where people should be placed, there was no guarantee Thatcher would be chosen to work for him. He hoped the current media love affair with her and Thomas would steer the committee toward placing her in his division. But with his own son already chosen a few years ago, he thought the chances may be slim to none she would be chosen. He also knew that the Benefactor didn’t want the appearance that the Kelleher family controlled the Ministry. At this point, the Judge would settle for any respectable placement for his daughter.

Commission Day, like most world government events, took place in the World Convention Auditorium. It was no ordinary auditorium. Its architecture and art depicted the deep beliefs of the State with its statues, murals, and twenty-foot stained glass windows lining both sides of the large auditorium. It was very churchlike, except instead of statues dedicated to saints, they were erected in honor of the men and women who worked to establish a government that controlled everything. Its stained glass windows depicted scenes of men and women working in life factories holding babies in their hands. It served as a constant reminder that life came from the State. Others showed scientists conquering disease. The large wall behind the stage was covered in a mural that was the centerpiece of the hall. There was a large green field littered with wild flowers, and at its center, a large oak tree. Sitting against the tree was an old man whose eyes were closed with a baby sitting on his lap. This beautiful scene had come to represent the Benefactor’s power over nature, life, and death.

The head of each government agency was on stage, along with the Benefactor. Parents were waiting anxiously for the ceremony to begin. As “Pomp and Circumstance” started to play, everyone stood and watched the class enter the large room. Each student wore a black gown over their clothes, but not for long. The gown was to be shed once their name was called, representing their death as a child and entrance into service to the Progtopia. They filtered in alphabetically, and once they were all settled, the Benefactor arose to give his opening remarks.

“Good afternoon, class, directors, professors, and parents. This is the beginning of a new life with many challenges for all of you sitting in front of me. Each and every position that is granted today is an important one. Be thankful I am granting you privilege into the government.”

No one expected anything different to be said by the Benefactor, but everyone knew certain positions were more important than others. He wasted no time in announcing names. When each person was called, the student would make their way to the aisle, shed their gown, and leave it there. They would make the seemingly long walk to the stage, where it would be announced which agency they would spend the rest of their life working for. The director of the agency would greet the student, and then the student would be ushered from the stage. This process took place over and over again until they reached Thatcher Kelleher.

Thatcher knew that no matter what transpired, she had to maintain composure. She could not embarrass herself, her father, or brother. As her name was called, she stood and walked to the aisle, disrobed her graduation gown, then nervously approached the stage, all the time wondering where she would be placed.

She thought to herself,
Will my association with Nikolai affect my placement? Will my brother getting a spot in the Ministry a few years back sabotage me?

Finally on stage, she reached the Benefactor. Shaking her hand, he noticed hers was moist exposing her nervousness.

“Are you ready?”

He turned back to the microphone and announced, “Thatcher Kelleher, you will be commissioned to the Ministry of Agriculture.”

A gasp of disbelief spontaneously erupted from the crowd. Judge Kelleher, as Director of the Ministry of Justice and Reeducation, was on stage. After a momentary expression of shock on his face, he quickly recovered with a large smile. However, this didn’t go unnoticed by the Benefactor. Thatcher felt nauseous, but she had the wherewithal to know all eyes were upon her. With graciousness, she greeted the Minister of Agriculture, shook her hand, and then walked off the stage.

She passed her classmates who were waiting on the side of the stage, and continued to the bathroom. She couldn’t think clearly. Her mind was filled with so many thoughts. Once she made certain she was alone, she leaned against the sink and stared into the mirror. She just wanted space from the commotion brewing outside. She knew her chances of getting into her father’s department were slim, but she never expected this. This was the bottom of the barrel. How could someone at the top of her class get placed into one of the worst departments? Was this a plot against her or her father? It didn’t really matter because she was going to be there for life.

The door opened and an elderly woman whom Thatcher didn’t recognize shuffled in. “Ma’am, I would like to be left alone,” Thatcher said, irritated.

“I’m sure you do, but I have a message to deliver. You are an important person, and many are hoping for your success. Your achievements won’t be measured by what department you’re in, but rather, by what you do.” Thatcher was perplexed by the mysterious woman, but she had no time to say anything because the woman left as quickly as she had appeared.

At first, Thatcher stood there processing the woman’s comments, but changed course and quickly exited the bathroom, attempting to find the elderly woman. But no one was there. To her left, a group of reporters approached shouting out questions.

“Thatcher, how do you feel about landing Agriculture while your boyfriend got Justice?” It was like another arrow to her heart—Thomas Quinn had received one of the most coveted positions in the government. At first, she stared blankly at the reporters as they fired question after question. It was all so much for her to take in. All she could muster was, “I’m sure he will be happy there, and I will make the best of where I am.”

She walked away from the group as some Social Keepers came over to protect her.

Twenty-four

The Year: 2173

Thomas was excited for Thatcher’s visit. He decided on a nice quiet dinner at his home—just the two of them, away from the media, cameras, and questions. He was really falling for her. Something he never expected. His mom had encouraged the relationship a few years back, even giving him pointers to attract her attention. It was her idea for him to act as though he barely noticed her. It wasn’t hard for him to do. That is what he did anyway. Never thinking it possible to get her to pay attention to him, he decided not to try. The oppressive pressure from his family for him to date her only pushed him to be more distant from her. Not expecting his mother to be right, his standoffishness was exactly what had drawn Thatcher to him.
Women
, he thought,
complicated
.

Thomas was expected to take over his family businesses, not go into government. Prior to the Crash, the line between corporations and government became more and more blurred in the Western world. Heading toward fascism, the Crash solidified that alliance. His family, owning both agriculture and energy companies, was in the catbird seat and had benefited from the cozy relationship ever since. At first, his father was outraged at his desire to enter the government, but realized his son’s presence in an influential government department could be helpful to his bottom line. Being with Thatcher was a bonus. For what started out as strategic positioning for his family had evolved into true feelings for Thatcher.

She meant more to him than anyone he had ever been with. She was real, genuine, and kind. Her intelligence didn’t intimidate him. It challenged him. She was unique, and every moment he spent with her was a treasure. He let down all of his barriers when she was around.

Arriving with groceries for their dinner, Thatcher whirled into the apartment, kissed him on the cheek, and rushed to the kitchen to start preparing the meal.

“Whoa,” Thomas said, “I thought I was going to cook.” Thatcher paused for a moment and started to laugh.

“Honey, I love you dearly, but we both know that despite your best efforts, I am the better chef. I appreciate the gesture, and that means a lot, but I’m starving and not really in the mood for food poisoning tonight.” They both laughed. Thomas embraced her, pecked her on the cheek, and said, “Why don’t we make dinner together?”

“Okay, I think that will work!” chuckled Thatcher.

They spent the next hour cooking, laughing, and enjoying their time together. Thatcher filled him in on the news at Agriculture, which wasn’t much. There was nothing too exciting about large greenhouses in the desert using minimal amounts of water and harnessing the sun’s energy to grow the world’s food. True, it was remarkable technology, but it wasn’t the salacious scandals consumed by the media.

After dinner, while clearing the table, she told Thomas about her challenges with production plants in Africa. As Thomas watched Thatcher talk about agriculture with an enthusiasm only she could muster, he couldn’t help but realize how lucky he was to have her. After she finished recounting her day, she decided to change the subject.

“So Thomas, how is my brother treating you over at Justice?”

“Not too bad. He pretty much has me collecting data. Pretty boring. But the excitement will begin with tomorrow’s announcement.”

“
The Trials
?”

“Yep,” he said rubbing his hands together in excitement, “let
The Trials
begin.”

“You really like them? I personally can’t stand them.”

They both made their way to the couch. “I don’t know, for me it’s entertaining to see people sit on the stand, with your father pounding the guilty fools with questions they don’t know how to answer.”

Thatcher remarked, “I guess since I live with it all year round, it’s not as interesting to me. Sometimes, I feel bad for the people on trial.”

“What? Are you serious? They’re the idiots who broke the law.”

“The law as it’s defined now. Half the crimes people are put to death for were perfectly legal two hundred years ago. I think most of
The Trials
are a circus.”

“Wow, Thatch, you probably shouldn’t say things like that in public.”

“I know. I don’t consider myself in public. I consider you my boyfriend, and someone I can trust.”

“Honey, you can trust me. I just want to make sure you don’t slip and say something stupid that can end the wrong way.” He put his arm around her and pulled her closer.

“I love you, Thatcher. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I would never do anything to jeopardize that. Never.” He leaned over and kissed her.