Lexis Lacuna Short Story

Lexis-Lacuna

By: J.H. MacKinnon

Part One: Neovilus

“Why Linguistic Deviancy is Immoral, by Koran Rufelski.” The pudgy adolescent cleared his throat forcefully. “Linguistic Deviancy can be defined by the direct or indirect, pre-meditated or purely accidental straying from the prescribed guidelines set down. We must be careful and vigilant…”he droned on, enjoying the sound of his own voice as it reverberated off the bare walls of the massive Central Schoolhouse. The teacher nodded affirmatively in the back of the room—and sent a quick shock to the neural receivers of any students who were nodding off or daydreaming.

Levi Kane, who’d shut his eyes in a bold attempt to escape the nonsense of Rufelski, received a particularly strong jolt. He shot straight up in his chair, rubbed the back of his neck, and placed his hands on his desk. Kane had a face of unmistakable austerity, looking as if it had been carved from stone.

In the era of stringent Verbal Cleansing, he felt out of place, and frequently pictured himself as an obscure boil on the back of society, waiting to be cauterized. He thought in ways that didn’t receive the same sort of positivity that other students did. Many times he was reprimanded for speaking too “excessively” or “precariously close to the filth of the old days.” The truth was he thought in poetry, but spoke in prose; he was forced to live a dreary life within the cadaverous language parameters set out by the Speech Engineers.

Of course, he was too young to have witnessed the start of the Cleansing, or to have met any of the Engineers first hand. He had, however, experienced the privilege of being indoctrinated to the point of nausea with history after history retelling the era. He knew of the great Jacob Ruestrom and his team of Neurogenesists, working tirelessly to “lead the way of progress, that humanity may live unburdened by the evils of unbridled speech and passionate discourse!” And of course he knew all the “dedication, selflessness, and commitment” it took for them to create such a thriving oasis amidst a decaying world.

A soft buzzing which grew into a bright chime signalled the end of the day’s classes; the students stood up beside their desks. The instructor, the ever severe and calculating Mr. Anders, stepped to the front of the room, looking from student to student with a proud narrowing of his eyes, and the slight, almost imperceptible upturning of his mouth that was detectable only in times of the greatest patriotism.

“Raise your right hands,” he spoke to the class. “To whom do you owe your freedom?”

“To the most wise Council of Overseers, those who have brought us from darkness into light,” the class responded in unison.

“What is it you pledge to do this day and forever?”

“To uphold the right and honorable limitations, statutes, and laws necessary to uphold the pursuit of Absolute Verbal Purity.”

“To whom does the glory belong, both today and forever?”

“The gracious forerunners who bestowed upon us the blessings of a new mind.”

“May it be this day, and forever more. Very good class. You are dismissed. Your arithmetical analysis of the past years’ economy is due tomorrow. I expect greatness.”

The class shuffled out to the hallway, and conversations bubbled past whispers and into excited exclamations about what the rest of the day held.

*

The way home was as familiar to Levi as the repetitious commands stuffed within the Speech and Life Instruction Manual, or the SLIM, ironically named, which every citizen of Neovilus was encouraged, very forcefully, to carry on their person at all times. He was joined by a few of his classmates under the dreary grey sky.

“Boy, that analysis Alders gave out sure is interesting….eh, guys?” said the keen Rufelski. “I just can’t wrap my head around the fifteenth differential though, what about you?”

“Class is over, Koran. Besides, you’re not getting any answers from me this time.”

Levi shuffled his feet as they walked along. He had made a habit of retreating within himself after class as the familiar discomfort clouded his mind and he tried to smooth the rough mental fibres that fought with one another in his head. Once before, he tried talking to Mr. Alders about his concerns, his ‘confusions,’ but all that earned him was a very uncomfortable seat in the Headmaster’s office where he was forced to listen to pedantic ramblings about “the danger of allowing cognitive dissonance to root itself within the gentle minds produced by the Speech Engineers.”

What bothered Levi most, however, was the ease with which he could label the Headmaster as a ‘pedantic rambler,’ when other citizens nearly idolized him as much as they did the Engineers. What gave him the right, the nerve, to think something like that? To get his mind off his troubles, Levi thought about the Headmaster’s ridiculous moustache and the way he slurred his ‘s’ sounds when he was being patriotic.

Irena’s voice broke him from his revelry. She sounded annoyed.

“Levi! Would you listen to me? Where did you get lost this time? I’ve been talking to you for the last minute.”

“Sorry. I just don’t feel well I guess.”

“Don’t tell me you’re feeling ‘confused’ about class again.”

Levi responded with silence and a shrug.

“What! Levi, you’re going to get yourself into trouble more than you already have! They’ve already put you into an additional neural conditioning class. You need to stop!”

Levi stopped slowly and looked at Irena. Her eyes burned with sincere frustration.

“I know I shouldn’t feel confused, Irena. You know me better than anyone else. You know I try to understand everything we’re talking about, everything that I should understand, that I want to understand.”

Irena looked steadily at Levi. “Don’t you get it? That’s your problem right there. You say you ‘try to understand.’ Why do you need to try at all?”

*

The history of Neovilus was ceremoniously glorified once a week. To the inhabitants, it was a shining light of goodness, moral uprightness, and temperance in the midst of a world fallen into the clutches of anarchy. The entire population was required to file into the meeting plaza religiously for the reading of the Neovilinian Prescription, a pseudo-anthem set to the tune of communal silence in the key of unalterable concentration. The plaza was a huge amphitheatre lined with banners stating the values and morals of Neovilus. Everyone stood, hands at their sides, while the First Engineer, a spindly man dressed in a crimson red robe with the cursive insignia of a capital S.E. on his shoulder, read somberly.

“Settlement Neovilus: to be established this day in order to carry through the complete re-working of the abominable Language Deviancy which grows like a plague all around, and without vigilance, discretion, and unwavering commitment to this prescription, threatens to enter within.”

He continued, with only the slightest inflections, making sure to emphasize the importance of accurate pronunciation over emotional appeal.

As the concluding remarks of the Prescription were read, the citizens closed their eyes uniformly and chanted the final line:

“We, Neovilus will uphold with rigidity, discernment, and unwavering faith, the precepts laid out in this Prescription. We will beware the Deviant and expose the un-truth which he propagates in this world. Our walls will be strong, our tongues sharp, our minds settled. Neovilus, our home, our strength, our ideal.”

The ceremony wore on as the First Engineer made his way through the Call to Vigilance, the Recognition of Uprightness, and the final Dismissal—in which, with strict solemnity, different sectors were asked to leave in sequence.

Levi stood up with his father after the service concluded, drowsy with boredom. His father, Martius Kane, was a well-recognized figure in the Public Works and Maintenance sector of Neovilus. He was a thin, tall man whose head was too thick for the rest of his body. His dark hair was usually unkempt and grew over the tops of his ears. A small pair of dirty glasses rested on the end of his angular nose. The responsibilities of his work followed him without fail. Barely after he exited the ceremony, he was hounded by people inquiring about the latest updates to their heating systems, making requests for a more timely removal of their trash each morning, or, oddly enough, which colour he thought would look the best in someone’s living room.

As always, Levi’s father politely answered all the questions, pulling out a simple, yet well-used daybook to make sure he did not forget any promises he made.

The constant interruptions made the two-mile walk back to their house painfully slow, but eventually they arrived at the small, cubic living quarters characteristic of all those located in the mid-sized Sector 14, home to those responsible for tasks similar or the same as Levi’s father. It should, however, be said that each sector in Neovilus was designed in a very specific way. The first architects created a circular pattern around the central plaza—home to the First Engineer and the Council of Overseers—that extended outward concentrically. The sectors were built to efficiently meet the occupational needs of those it housed. For example, Sector 8 housed the Educators, and had living quarters equipped with basic libraries, common rooms for seminars, and all the necessary materials to cultivate the young, impressionable minds of Neovilus. Or take Sector 14, home to the Pipe Runners—unfortunate men and women who maintained the underground sewage system for the entire settlement. They lived in an immensely long one story apartment that sprawled across the sector. Each suite had a necessary set of tools hung on the walls for ease of access and to serve as a reminder of their status and position within the sector. These things were based on the quality and color of the main instruments, ranging from a rusty dull copper at the bottom to a brilliant cobalt blue that only a few had earned the right to use. The apartments were each built around an access ladder that led to the occupants corresponding area of work within the pipes. Other sectors, like the Electronic Management Sector, the Food Development Sector, and the Publishing Sector were also dispersed throughout.

Later that evening Levi and his father—the only remaining members of the Kane family—sat down for their evening meal, a bland spread of unadorned white meats and unseasoned vegetables.

“Levi, what did you gain this morning? What stirred your conscience?”

“Oh, all of it was really good. All things I needed to hear,” he lied.

“Of course, my boy, but what did you admire? I mean, weren’t you moved by the way he read the Prescription this morning? It sent chills down my spine!”

“Well, I guess that was really good…” Levi fidgeted with his potatoes, walking them across his plate. “Dad, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Promise not to get mad?”

“Promise.”

“Ok. Well, do you ever wonder why we need to go to the service every week? I mean, why isn’t it enough to read the Prescription on our own?”

His father nearly choked on the piece of meat he was about to swallow.

“I thought we were over this, Levi. Haven’t the extra doctrine classes fixed anything? I know sometimes the services can be long. We all know that. But you’re speaking foolishness. Absolute foolishness.”

“Remember that promise you made about two seconds ago?” Levi asked cautiously.

“I’m not angry, son. I’m feeling fear for your well being.” His father stared at Levi. “Where are you getting these ideas from? Is someone talking to you about all this?”

Levi moved sheepishly in his chair.

“No, Dad, no one’s been talking to me about it. I’m capable of thinking for myself. I wrote something that I wanted to show you.”

“You did! Well, what’s it about? Did you finally finish that paper you were assigned on section 32 of the Prescription? I knew you had it in you.”

“No, no, I wrote something. Something important, something my own, something that made me feel good.”

“Okay, well…let’s see it then.” Said his father cautiously.

“I was feeling confused one day, and I just needed to do something to stop feeling so mixed up, so I wrote, about things I saw. Then I read it out loud to myself and it sounded…nice.”

His father stared blankly at him, then shuddered as if doused in ice water. “This is starting to get out of hand,” he muttered not quite beneath his breath. He shook his head violently, then spoke more loudly and more seriously than Levi was used to. “Levi…tomorrow you will be enrolled in the Verbal De-Talks program.”

“What? No, Dad, please! I was just telling you something that happened, something I thought you’d want to hear about. You’re only saying this because you’re angry. Remember your promise?”

“Promises don’t matter when the Deviant is showing his ugly head in our home, son. This is for the good of our family, Levi. I want you to go to your room and read the first seventeen sections of the Prescription to yourself. Then come out here and tell me what you’ve learned from each. You’re dismissed. Now leave.”

Levi knew defiance would only get him deeper into the mess he had somehow created. He also knew that saying anything else would probably have him labelled as a “Worker of Deviancy and Treason” or something like that. So he shuffled away to his room, Prescription in hand.

*

The administrative body of Neovilus moved with swift and efficient precision. This was especially true when dealing with cases such as Levi’s. The discouraged fourteen-year-old was picked up at 5:15am and escorted to one of the central education buildings—an annex of the main Schoolhouse.

Shaken and demoralized, Levi rode in the back seat of an outdated vehicle that was used only when expediency was of the utmost necessity. It was a dull grey metal car (at least that’s what Levi thought it was called), that chugged along the streets tearing, a ragged hole in the cultivated placidity. Rumbling along in his mobile quarantine, he tried to figure out how he had ended up in such a terrible situation.

Before he arrived at any answers, the car stopped and Levi was hurried out of the back seat by an unsmiling warden, then led through the imposingly tall metal doors of the De-Talks building. On any other day, the copper sheen of the doors reaching up in the misty hours of morning would have inspired Levi. Today it made him want to spit. Around the doors stood the imposing building with its many windows, decorated with bland phrases about citizenship, loyalty, and the like. Once inside, Levi found himself in a cold common area with high ceilings and a plethora of hallways shooting off in many directions. The warden walked silently with him past more doors than Levi cared to count. When they finally stopped, Levi saw a neatly typed card on one of the doors, reading: LEVI KANE, CASE 3314.

Stepping inside the room, Levi was oddly surprised by the warmth and comfort it presented. The walls were a soft beige. Cushy-looking padded chairs sat spread intermittently about. There were even pictures hanging on the walls—pictures of past Engineers and other scenes of patriotism, but they were pictures nonetheless.

First Engineer Jerin Ruestrom had inherited the traditional last name not by birth or blood, but by the privilege of his office. His dark red robes hung straight and un-pleated, barely moving as he walked. However, instead of lending a sense of regality and honor to the man’s stature, the robes pointed out the lanky, awkward angularities of his frame. As he walked along the hallways of the De-Talks building—a popular colloquial name that he despised passionately--he meditated on the beauty of its real name, the Disciplinary Center for Re-Educating the Linguistic Faculties for Societal Coherence. The beauty, he thought, of a well-expressed phrase is something to be treasured indeed. He continued down the hallway until he reached the appointed room for his next consultation meeting, sessions which usually lasted a very short time, since the patient was often there, in Ruestrom’s opinion, as a result of their own admission, simply waiting to make a pitiful confession to the high authority which he represented. The case number 3341, however, caused him to pause. He was curiously aware of the young boy sitting on the other side of the door. He walked through.

Levi was enjoying the unusual comfort of the seat he found himself in when the imposing figure stepped through the doorway.

“Good morning, Levi. I am First Engineer J. Ruestrom. You may simply call me First Engineer, or sir, if you prefer.”

“Good morning, First Engineer,” said Levi quietly, then a little louder, “I really didn’t mean to end up here. I was just trying to make sense of things.”

“It’s all right, Levi,” said Jerin paternally. “You may find this odd, or even disheartening, but I knew that one day, one way or another, I would meet you here.”

Certainly odd, and yes, disheartening indeed, thought Levi, but he responded with silence.

“Your file tells me that you’ve struggled with repeated episodes of cognitive dissonance and fits of confusion during school time. And now you’ve been admitted for daring to use some sort of expressive language. Is this correct?”

A pause, followed by “Yes, sir, that’s right.”

The old man looked at Levi for a period of time that seemed excessive to the boy.

“Levi, do you know how Neovilus started?”

“Yes sir, I’ve read all the histories many times.”

“Indeed, but what do you know of before Jacob Ruestrom perfected his neurogenesis?”

Levi looked at the First Engineer, trying to retrieve an answer from somewhere deep inside his mind. He shook his head.

“Well, there are some things you need to know, then. You see, before Neovilus existed, the world was much larger, fuller, and hostile than it is now. This much, if you’ve read your Prescription carefully, should be clear to you. Every citizen here must remember from where we have come. Even so, there is much that the Prescription does not say.

“Before us, there was destruction, desolation, and death. Huge groups of individuals living in massive geographical territories, countries they were called, were wiped out in the pursuit of wealth, resources, and ‘national security.’

“The weapons they used were driven by powerful sciences and complex methods that have been obscured by time. You know, Levi, about the great Forerunners and their method of advanced neurogenesis—the creation of new, authentic neurons within our brains. What I assume you do not know, dear boy, is how perceptively they applied this scientific knowledge. For they realized that the most destructive force that humanity had at its disposal was not contained within a ‘nuclear rocket,’ nor residing in the most powerful ‘machine gun’ they could create—No. It lay within themselves, within their minds. Language, Levi. Language is the root of all evil and discontent. The combination of words and expressions to communicate meaning carried the power to eradicate entire populations. Language was the problem, and in order for us to continue living as a species, it had to be reformed.

“This, dear boy, is where the earliest Speech Engineers applied themselves—to the relentless pursuit of purging society of their habitual and foolhardy use of words, tones, and commands. Now obviously such an enormous project on such an immense group of people was nearly impossible, thus their beginning was humble and meager. They attracted support by advertising a new way to ‘expand your mental capacity’ and ‘keep your mind sharp through advanced neurological discoveries.’ They soon found that their following was growing in a society bent on preserving themselves far beyond their natural limits; in a society where death was an unwelcome, frightening reality.

“Over many years, as thousands of people spent time in labs under the treatments set out by Ruestrom and his associates, the neurons grew—vigorously. They became clean slates, beautiful oases within an otherwise polluted minds: fresh areas of plasticity to train, shape, and mold. However, without nearly constant stimulation, the neurons faded and died. The solution was to put the subjects through a battery of exercises and questions, filling and shaping their new neurons into what they needed to be. They were subtly propagating a new way of thinking and reacting to expressive language, and rewarding the brain activity that corresponded to their new ideas with a release of the chemical called Dopamine. It acted as a delightful reward, registering a feeling of accomplishment, euphoria, and success.

“With enough of this released into the brains of these great Forerunners, new neural pathways were created that led to the elimination of any desire to use language in such a way as would lead to the destruction that they witnessed so brutally and close to themselves.”

Levi’s mind was reeling, but finally he was able to ask, “First, Engineer…Why are you telling me all this? I’m just a young boy.”

The First Engineer met Levi’s eyes and clasped his hands behind his back. “There is a reason you feel such discontent each day you live here, Levi. A reason why your lessons don’t ‘make sense’ to you, and it’s very simple, really. You lack the neuronic pathways that are so natural to the citizens of Neovilus. To put it bluntly, my boy, you’re an Outsider.”

Part Two: Revelations

Jerin Ruestrom enjoyed his work. Right now he felt a sense of accomplishment and duty fulfilled by disclosing the truth to the stone faced adolescent. How helpful and beneficent he was. Patiently he waited for some sort of response, not necessarily verbal, but at least some gesture of gratitude or acknowledgement for his righteous deed.

Levi sat heavy in the padded chair. His face was still and hard, directly opposite to the hurricane of activity within. Coherent thoughts refused to form as the boy tried to think of any way that what he’d heard might not be true. The problem, however, was that it did make sense.

“Sir,” he finally managed to say, pushing down the choking emotions that stirred inside him. “I don’t understand. What’s an Outsider? And why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The First Engineer was put off by the boy’s comment and willingly allowed his face to drop slightly.

“It means, Levi, that you did not originate within the walls of Neovilus. You are from elsewhere.”

“Where?” asked Levi.

“That we do not know. Nor would you if we did. It is no longer relevant and I would advise you to pursue the matter no further. What is before us now is of much more importance.”

Levi stuttered out his objection to this, but was drowned out by the firm tone of the First Engineer.

“You are in danger, Levi. I am about to lead you to a safe place of belonging and peace. You understand first-hand how you do not quite fit in with the other citizens here, and struggle almost constantly, I’m sure, with this ‘cognitive dissonance.’”

“Well, yes, sir, I do struggle a lot, but why is that wrong? Why can’t I disagree or think about what’s being said?”

Ruestrom reached into the left pocket of his robe and pulled out a well-used copy of the Prescription. He opened it carefully and handed it to Levi.

“Read units thirteen to fifteen.”

“Order and Societal Coherence are essential for life and prosperity. Beware the evils of individual thought, for that road leads to deviancy and death. Save those straying so dangerously close to the gaping pit of unbridled mental activity. For they are deceived and are prone to walk in the ways of deception. Lead them to the truth of Verbal Purity. Lead them as those who must be awakened from a deathly slumber. Passivity equates destruction.”

Ruestrom inhaled deeply and slowly after Levi had finished. He made a sombre motion with his hand over his chest then took the Prescription back and placed it in his robe.

“I do not expect you to fully comprehend the gravity of those words, Levi, but I hope they will take root within you and lead you to the true existence that I am about to lay before you.”

Levi felt as though his stomach had dropped through his abdomen and landed on the floor. He waited in silence for what the Ruestrom was about to say.

“Levi,” he began, standing rigidly straight, pushing his narrow chest forward and tilting his head slightly downward. It gave him the appearance of a disjointed scarecrow. “The actions we must take are very simple. You are indeed on the road to destruction, and pose an immediate threat to the safety and unity of Neovilus. To remedy this danger, you will have the privilege of being subjected to rounds of intensive Neurogenesis as a way to develop the pathways you require to succeed as a citizen and as a true idealist for right thinking.”

Levi’s brow creased. “But sir, what if I don’t want to undergo the treatments?”

The First Engineer sighed. “I knew you would ask that, dear boy. To resist treatment would be to willingly elect the way of imprudence and foolishness. We would then simply intervene and assist you in finding the correct path.”

“What sort of assistance would I get?” asked Levi, indignantly.

Ruestrom looked at the boy with intense pity. “If you do not willingly consent to the treatments, it will be an indication that the disease and corruption of linguistic deviancy has spread throughout your mind to so great a measure that we must, well, there really is no easy way of saying this: wipe it clean.”

“What!” exclaimed Levi.

“Wipe your mind clean. Totally erase all the mental pathways, connections, even memories in an attempt to save you from absolute destruction. It sounds harsh, but it must be done if necessary.” The First Engineer crossed his legs and smiled benevolently at the boy.

“And Levi,” he continued, “while I do hope we don’t have to bring the matter to that point, rest assured that if we do, we will not hesitate. We love peace and value individual life, but will not tolerate impurities in any degree.”

Levi wiped his face quickly, embarrassed by the angry tears that made him look so foolish.

“Levi, I must emphasize the point that the language, thoughts, and ways of life of those on the Outside—those whose ways you are so dangerously considering—are the linguistic descendants of those who destroyed our world through their greed, animosity, and hatred for one another. Their tongues were their undoing, and they will not, cannot be ours.”

Levi sat without a response, breathing heavily. He understood that nothing he said would be of any help whatsoever—yet a thought bothered him that he needed to express.

“First Engineer, sir” he said cautiously, “haven’t you ever read anything beautiful? I mean, other than the Prescription?” The thin man stared upward, sighed, and sat down.

“Of course I have, Levi. And much more than you, I’m sure. I know why you enjoy such things and can relate to the storm of emotions you are feeling right now. I was there once, Levi.”

The two sat silently for a few moments, Levi on the edge of his chair waiting for the thin man to explain his weighty revelation. “This may come as a surprise to you, Levi, but I too was once an Outsider. I was pulled into Neovilus at the age of sixteen by the mercy of my adopted parents. I had polluted myself terribly on the outside, with scores of books, each of which I treasured in my heart. The words I found on those pages were my only consolation against the harshness of the lands outside Neovilus. I found solace in them, and they aided me in my times of greatest need.”

“If all that’s true, sir, then how could you ever let them go?”

“Easily! The comfort I found in the pages of books was replaced by the comfort of being fed each day. The language I cherished on paper faded as I heard the affirmations and encouragements of my new family. Most of all, I delighted in adhering to the Prescription. I had found security, peace, love—a life worth living. Before long I exceeded the accomplishments of my peers, and was travelling a long and joyful path to my position of First Engineer, a road that would have been impossible if I had not forsaken the wicked deeds of my past.

“Therefore, Levi, I do not fail to see the beauty in all you think you hold dear. But neither do I fail to see the danger.”

Once again Levi was temporarily speechless. But only temporarily.

“Sir, I need to ask one more thing. Must we really eliminate all sorts of expressive language and literature? Can’t there be a balance, some sort of filter or something?”

Ruestrom chuckled at the naiveté before him. “You will find that after your neural pathways have been fully shaped—carved out to match those of other citizens, you will no longer even desire to indulge in the fruitless works of those deviant authors.”

“Fruitless? You just told me how much you relied on those works for your sanity!”

“I was deceived and depraved,” said Ruestrom matter of factly. “The commands of the Prescription were hidden from me, and Neovilus brought me into the light.”

“But that’s not even real!” said Levi. “All you’re doing is creating a fake piety within your foolish system.”

“That is where you are wrong,” said the First Engineer, “very wrong and very deceived. Neurogenesis is a gateway through which we must pass to access the ideal—that which is true. Without it, we are depraved and hopeless.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Levi. He knew he was securing his demise, yet he could not bring himself to accept what he was hearing. “I won’t believe it.”

“Then you have chosen the way of destruction. Levi, you have one week to decide whether you will submit to the treatments willingly, or endure them forcibly. I do not want you to lose your memories, personality, or identity. But we will do what we must. I will leave you now.”

*

Mr. Martius Kane had perfected the art of being anxious. Years of concealing the truth about his son had given him many sleepless nights. But he could not recall any feelings of regret or dismay for going through with the adoption. He remembered the joy he felt at the “Department of Outsider Adoption,” even though he knew the risks and hardships he was securing. Up to this point, he had tried to teach and lead his son as best he could, reading him the Prescription every night, memorizing passages, providing answers to all his questions.

But now, as he stood on the front porch of their quarters, he had little time to reminisce or calm himself. The same vehicle that had taken his son was returning, gliding along the road, approaching at a gentle pace. Martius cleared his throat, tried to smooth the wrinkles in his shirt, and stood rigidly still.

The car slowed to a halt and Levi stepped out, looking haggard and dishevelled.

“Welcome back, son!” his father said, shaky and enthusiastic. “Have a good time, did you? Well, I’ll tell you what, you must be tired, so go lie down, get some rest, and we can talk in a few hours.” He placed his arm around Levi who slouched slightly under its weight.

Levi lay in bed that night thinking about how tired he was. He wished that sleep would sneak up behind him and silence the temptations to despair that seemed so inviting. Over and over the conversation between himself and the First Engineer played through his mind. It still amazed him that he had gained an audience with Ruestrom and been able to see the man up close, never mind the fact that he had divulged so much information—personal information—to Levi. Finally, in an attempt to distract himself, he grabbed his Prescription and opened it somewhere near the middle. It turned out to be the thirty-fourth precept. The custom when reading the Prescription to oneself was to say the words aloud, so as to hear and thus more fully appreciate the “life-giving words of our forebears.” Levi did so, and felt a deep affection for the poetic beauty and rhythm of the text rather than the thought of adhering to its commands. How could he willingly subject himself to a process that would rob him of his desire to love the beauty and value of language? How could he allow himself to be changed into a utilitarian consumer of words—one who followed only through scientifically designed delight?

How foolish it was to think like this. How absolutely ridiculous he was to entertain the thought that he could somehow retain his love of language in a society absolutely hostile toward it.

It won’t be so bad, he finally thought. I’ll be happy. And I’ll actually be considered normal for once. If Neurogenesis was inevitable, it must be more bearable with one’s memories intact. He forced a smile of contentment on his face, and waited through the long hours of the night for sleep to mercifully find him.

*

The central Schoolhouse bell chimed with its usual obnoxious, annoying ring and Mr. Alders watched his students file in. He capped his red pen and set it on top of the never-diminishing stack of student papers.

The necessary plight of an educator, he thought, then stood as the second chime went, signalling the start of class. The students rose, sung the pledge of Verbal Integrity, Purity and Devotion to Neovilus then sat back down. The lessons continued smoothly as they discussed the principles of composition in regards to subtle deceptions that were prone to creep in through sloppy semantics and carelessness in their etymology classes.

“Can someone spot the danger in passage fifteen?” asked Alders.

“Yes, sir,” piped an unfamiliar voice. “The danger can be found in the word ‘metaphor.’ Our text tells us of the dangerous nature of this…‘device,’ I believe it is called. The employment of such a device leads only to delusions, eccentric behaviour, and immoral thinking.”

Alders stared in disbelief at the comment. Not because of the answer, for it was an obvious and simple one, but because it was Levi Kane who had given it.

“Thank you, Levi,” he replied. “You may all work on the rest of the questions by yourselves for the duration of the period. I would like to hear your views in a discussion tomorrow. Please come prepared.” Alders stepped over to Levi’s desk and asked quietly to see him after class.

“Have a seat, Levi,” said Alders.

“Yes, sir. Most definitely, sir. Excellent lesson today.”

Alders stared at his pupil with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.

“Obviously, I’ve heard about your meeting with the First Engineer, Levi.”

Levi nodded. “And what an excellent opportunity it was to meet the one responsible for the unity and coherence of our settlement.”

Alders paused, taking time to consider his next step. Once he opened his mouth, the words couldn’t be gathered back. He proceeded.

“I don’t think you meant your comment today, Levi.”

“Of course I did, sir. I see the error of my ways and am trying my very best to follow the ways of the Prescription.”

Once again, Alders considered holding his tongue, but finally spoke with deadly austerity. “Levi,” again, he hesitated, “I implore you to challenge the words you heard from Ruestrom. Do not be hasty to rule out the possibility of avoiding the mental Reformation.”

Levi’s face dropped in disbelief. “Sir?” he asked.

“Do not make me repeat myself, Levi. Saying this once is dangerous enough. I am an educator in this Schoolhouse, and a citizen of Neovilus; I follow its commands with my head, but not with my heart.”

Cautiously, Levi let the statement seep into his mind, stir around and jostle the conceptualization he had of his teacher.

“Levi, there is too much at stake. You cannot abandon your ability to think independently and to enjoy, to want to enjoy beautiful language.”

“Sir, I’m having a very difficult time listening to you talk like this. First, I am hesitant to trust what you say, and second, what then would I do? Refuse the treatment and have my mind wiped? What would that accomplish?” Another thought struck him quickly. “Besides, how have you even begun thinking contrary to the mass audience of Neovilus?”

Alders stood and pulled his chair closer to Levi.

“Do you honestly think I would even risk saying such things if I didn’t believe what I was saying? I do not want your mind wiped, Levi. I want you to leave Neovilus.”

Levi nearly laughed aloud at hearing such a ridiculous comment. Soon, however, the humor faded as he realized how serious Alders was.

“But sir…no one has ever left willingly.”

“Do you know that for certain, Levi?”

“Well no, not for certain. But why would I do something like that? Why would I risk my life out there? It’s asking for death in a heartbeat.”

“The possibility of losing one in the attempt to save many is a chance we must take, Levi,” said Alders.

“‘Save many?’ What are you talking about?” Levi asked apprehensively.

Alders sighed. “You are a foolish boy, indeed, if you think there are no threats beyond our shallow, retroactive way of life. We’ve set ourselves apart from the rest of humanity and have become a tightly knit group of introverted moralists. We’re more concerned with our fantastic religious ceremonies than learning and engaging in the affairs of those outside our borders. Just because there are no clear and immediate threats breathing down our necks does not mean none exist.

“In this age, blind, arrogant complacency is an attractive invitation for others to bring destruction. I have been working to prevent this, or at least avoid the harshest effects of this, for the last ten years. There have always been Outsiders accepted into the loving arms of Neovilus, and I have focused on them, waiting for the opportune time to send them away.”

Levi felt indignant toward the presumptuous Alders. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

“That will remain to be seen, young man. All I ask is that you listen to my proposal.” Levi felt uncomfortable in his seat, but finally nodded to the outrageous man sitting across from him.

“Levi, contrary to what you have been taught, The world outside is a place of beauty, freedom, and life. I have not sent those before you to their death, but have directed them to a place where they will be able to connect with the rest of humanity. Take this, but do not open it until you are alone.” Alders handed Levi a crisp piece of paper folded into a small square.

“Thank you, I suppose. But what if I were to tell about your intentions, sir? What stops me from reporting you as soon as I leave?”

“Some have tried,” said Alders, relaxed and content, “and I have taken very serious measures to make sure that my word will always be taken as truth by my superiors. Any attempts on your behalf to speak against me will most definitely be taken as a sign of your corruption, simply speeding the process of your mental reformation. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir. Clearly. May I ask one more question?”

“Of course.”

“Why take all these risks? Why not just go along with what they are telling you to do? They’ve told me it’s pleasant and rewarding once the Dopamine treatments establish neural canals deep enough to be permanent.”

“It is pleasant, Levi. Exceedingly pleasant. More than that, it feels natural to follow the Prescription and everything else they want me to. That, however, is not enough. When I have had the rare chance to read beautiful passages from the Outside, or to speak outside the verbal laws, something in me comes alive. It was psychologically painful at first, but the pain was outweighed and slowly diminished as I was ensnared by the ‘Verbal Deviancies’ which I discovered.

“There is something beyond Neovilus, Levi. Something that transcends our foolish way of life, and I want you to have a chance to discover it. There are others, Levi. They will be waiting.”

*

Later that night, sitting on his bed’s thin mattress, deep within a shallow arc of illumination given off by his personal lantern, Levi unfolded the paper from Alders. It was a mysterious diamond in his young hands, and he held it with supreme care under the dim light. The dry paper crackled softly as he expanded it. A delightfully earthy smell of dead ink on the sheet filled his nostrils. He read the words softly, slowly to himself. The passages were short and sprawled boldly across the page, telling him of one who was “the beginning and the end,” and about one “wise man who built his house upon the rock.” Another described the way that someone was going to show him “fear in a handful of dust.” There were even lines saying something about a mistress being “nothing like the sun.”

Almost as intriguing was a list of directions scribbled near the bottom of the page with a detailed map next to them. Levi knew they led to some undisclosed location outside the precious settlement.

He read the quotes scrawled out over the parchment many times, allowing the beauty of the words, ideas, and creativity soak deep into his heart. He spent many hours that night flipping the page over, wishing that somehow the phrases would magically expand or multiply. It was difficult to manage, but he got to sleep before the night was through. And as he slept, Levi Kane, citizen of the Settlement of Neovilus, outsider accepted, adopted, and raised, had his mind settled.

*

Martius Kane woke early the next morning, eager and ready to attend the weekly service with his now reformed son. He walked briskly down the hallway and into Levi’s room, where the boy was still sleeping, quietly and peacefully.

He couldn’t bring himself to wake his overtired son. Besides, there were still a few minutes before he needed to start getting ready. Martius turned and began walking out, but something caught his eye: an unfolded piece of paper that seemed to have fallen next to the bed. He picked it up, and as his eyes roamed back and forth over the lines as his hands began to tremble and his face flushed cold.

Within two minutes, the phone in the Office of the First Engineer was ringing excitedly.

END