Dystopia

We were the first generation born without God. 

He withdrew, after the Battle of the Underground, never to make Himself known to us, after the Human Race voted overwhelmingly against acknowledgement of Him. He was struck from history, Bibles, the ones that remained after the War, were all destroyed. Places of worship were imploded, and in their places were erected monuments to modern life:  beautiful, functional, efficient, empty.

We would hear stories of Jesus, the Son of God, borne of the woman Mary, and how his teachings weaned the world away from cruelty, and vengeance, and acrimony. But that is all that is left: secret whispers in the sewers and back alleys, never a topic for open conversation.

The last of the generation who outlawed God from society are all dead. It is frightening, but it must be said. They all died young, all of self-annihilation, bar none. The stories we heard from the dissenters all told us that the God who would not show Himself to us anymore was kind, benevolent and generous, the embodiment of Love itself, like a Father. But that is a concept that is alien to us. We do not know what a father is, for under the New Order, all in society are equal, there are no parents, no children, we are all just citizens. Citizens reared on perfect, empirical, scientific knowledge. Art is not encouraged. Free thought is punished.

So now we are without leaders. Without God. We are lost.

I am Sylvan. I now head the Special Force tasked with finding God. To be frank, my perfect knowledge is failing me now. None of technology we have on hand, the space explorers, the oceanographers and the archaeologists could give me a clue as to where to start. We do not have the priests and religious, who are all but a vague memory now. Not even a single Bible to help start our exploration. Finding God, at this point in Human History, would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. You know He exists, but how do you find Him?

I am on a race against time. The New Order is crumbling. Babies are being terminated. Fights break out every .08 seconds. What frightens me most is our advanced weaponry. It has become so potent that anyone who takes it to his mind to detonate the 13 War Nodes could reduce the entire Solar System to space dust. The only thing that stands between the diminishing human race and total extinction are the precious Diamonds we keep flowing steadily to the War Guardians. But loyalty is a foreign concept to us. We do not know exactly what it is now, so that anyone who offers the Guardians more Diamonds could gain control of the weapons easily. That is the New Order: the one who has more reigns supreme.

I come to the Library for the 1,377^th time this year. None of the books I have read offers clues. I browse through the S-Z section of the books on the fourth floor. This time, I pick a tome at random, instead of my usual wont of consulting my methodical list of books.

I chose this book because it reminded me of the cherry trees that bloom in the Capitol after winter. It was covered in delicate red and white cherry print paper, and bears no catalogue number. Curious, and aware of the penalties of defacing Government property, I peel off the cover, which is Sellotaped inside.

Utopia by St Thomas More. My eyes widen and I utter an unconscious “Oh.” 

I have heard about Saints. They are holy men and women who follow in Jesus’ footsteps, even to the point of sacrificing their lives for their convictions.

I peel off the paper cover and call my lieutenant. I inform her of my discovery. We search the entire facility, but the book I have in my hand is apparently the only copy we have.

A blast rocked Southwest Perth. The War Nodes are being detonated. A miscreant picked a fight with a Guardian, who released the Armory in anger. The first explosion created a vortex at the Earth’s core and is sucking in everything around it. If all the nodes are set off, we’d only have time to save the Universe in 7.47 minutes.

I open the book. My hands are shaking. In desperation, I read the outer back cover. It had a painting of the Saint, and a brief biography. And the last line: “He never failed to find God in Prayer.”

Here is my answer. But what, or where is Prayer? We haven’t time for an exploration. The madman at the War Nodes was running amok and there was no one who cared enough to stop him. He could do as he pleased, even kill everyone, and no one would stop him, because nobody knew if it would be right or wrong to do so.

My heart was screaming, but my face was stony. My mind was blank. I couldn’t think of a rescue plan. My heart was filled with sorrow. Here we were, about to destroy the only place we call home, people in chaos, living a soul less existence. An unfortunate generation that will disappear without ever having known the Power that created it.

“If You’re there, still in the Heavens, as they say You are, please save us. I believe in You. I believe in You. Please save us, the children, they deserve to live,” my heart whispered.

Then a blinding light enveloped my lieutenant. Her name is Morgana. She was born with microcephaly, because her mother contracted the Zika virus during pregnancy in the outbreak of 3021. Morgana suffered from brain damage. She was never allowed to attend school because she was slow to learn. She was my friend from childhood, having been relegated to menial tasks because of her disability. I shared my lessons with her in secret because I discovered, she was able to learn if she proceeded at her own pace. She is now my lieutenant because her simple demeanor and easy laugh comforted me, especially during these troubled times. That, and she made a mean cup of Batangas roast.

A stentorian Voice issued from the light. “And so you prayed. And so it was declared. And so it shall be done.” I checked my monitor. The vortex stilled. The Australian continent was safe. The Guardians were stilled. It was as if the anger that possessed them left. I utter a heartfelt “Thank you, Father.”

“I was here all along,” the Voice said once more.

Morgana disappeared that day. But on the Library table, in front of her chair, was left a Bible.