"The devotion of his humble servants, our Handmaids!"
Like the other guests, Commander Glen Cooper-Deeds turned to the windows where red-clad breeding machines stood on the balcony and outside.
"My brothers..." Waterford droned on.
Glen never got why that beardy twit was so high-up, or why he seemed to be doing everything. Build the new Red Centre, take command of every unit in Massachusetts when his Handmaid vanished, and eventually go to Canada. You'd think he was the president. Perhaps Waterford planned to become Supreme Commander? Glen would sooner vote for the Wife, Serena Joy, but that would never happen. The Supreme Commander has to be able to read, after all.
"Has always been... It's not time yet, tell her to go back."
Hang on, why was there the sound of running? Glen turned around. The Handmaids on the ground were legging it!
"GO BACK!" Waterford yelled.
Glen froze. His latest Handmaid was running down the aisle with a grenade! Was this the plan she'd been mouthing about? He didn't know, as he could barely remember faces, let alone read lips. "Time for chair!" he decided.
BARRRRROOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!
TINKLE-TINKLE!
Carnage. Chairs everywhere, Commanders bleeding and unmoving. Glen looked up and realised that he shouldn't have left that grenade lying around earlier. Still, he'd been injured himself, so nobody would link him and Mayday, would they?
"Cell biology," Glen muttered as he saw the new breeder go up the stairs with the Martha. "If only they could talk about the past. If only they could do what they do best."
The Commander shook his head. Anyone with an ounce of sense would allow a world-class neonatologist continue her work, especially when babies were so precious. Sitting down and reading through the latest reports on the front. As expected, going badly in Florida and Chicago, but holding the line elsewhere. The California Republic was still sending aid to the Midwest, so that would still take a while, if at all. The Wife hadn't come back from her chat with Mrs Lawrence yet, so Glen picked up the phone and got in touch with the main Mayday man. "Joseph, we have a right one here."
"Oh yeah?"
"What is that? Who's walking on broken glass?"
"Me, us, everyone. What do you think she'll do?"
"I don't know. All three of my Marthas are secure, as is your nutjob, so we'll have to wait and see. I've made sure she's with Fred's Handmaid."
"Great. Great. Oh, Mrs Cooper-Deeds is coming down, looking all spunky. Talk to you soon."
Glen put the phone down and his train of thought began and then ended. "All of you kids, go back upstairs! I adopted you because your parents are heretics! I'm doing you a favour by letting you live with me! Go back upstairs!"
"You reported this?" Glen asked the Martha trembling under his hand.
"Yes! It was the law!"
The Commander released the Martha's neck. The servant was once a 'The End is Nigh' fanatic of some cult of the Earth Mother, or whatever. Now she was a faithful servant of someone, though she was somehow a devotee of Gilead and a Mayday operative at the same time. "You know what will happen?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Tell me, Ursula, did you do this just because actually-named-Martha spilled milk on you last week?"
"No!"
"Hmm. Fuck off, fuck off, FUCK OFF!"
Glen slumped down on his armchair, head in hands. Emily had just been arrested for having an affair with Martha, the second Martha. Such a naming coincidence was inevitable, though with the thought that one of his staff would soon be hanging off a crane and the Handmaid under the knife... Always, Glen hated the way his Handmaid was tied to him. Ofglen. It was there: Of Glen. He was complicit. Worse, he suggested the patronymic system at the pub as a joke, and now it was everywhere. Every now and then, he wished he could blow up Waterford's house, but the only thing stopping him (apart from common sense) was that they lived next door.
"Don't think I don't know you're an Eye," he whispered after Ursula's staggering form. "I have to get Dr Hodgson out of here."
And so he did. Commander Steven Scott had had enough of one of his Martha's so they swapped. Glen wasn't sure if Steven was in Mayday- that was the point- but his Wife certainly looked sympathetic. Anyway, how was he meant to reproduce?
"Yes, I'm wearing a leather coat," Glen sighed. Unlike the other drones, with their suits and ties, Glen often wore a black outfit with a red shirt. Failing that, he might wear a tweed jacket. He felt such clothes went well with his blond hair.
"Of course, Commander Glen," said the woman in a brown gown. "We have a replacement for you."
"Thank you, Aunt Elizabeth. Welcome, Ofglen. Elizabeth, what happened to the first one?"
"We had a discussion, sir. I supervised the Redemption."
"Oh, how very nice." Glen's hand stiffened around the doorframe. "Very efficient... Naff off!"
"Commander, it was necessary!"
"GET AWAY! GET AWAY, YOU VILE INDIVIDUAL!"
Without any hesitation, the Aunt ran down the steps and all the way down the street. None of the Guardians reacted, though some still emitted the usual gobbledegook from their radios.
"GET AWAY! Welcome, Ofglen. Blessed be the fruit."
"May the Lord open," said the newbie, a thinner, darker woman. If certain Commanders had gained power, her type, and Dr Hodgson, would be up in North Dakota in one giant Colony, but the others showed a one-off case of rational thinking and stopped that.
"Please come in, make yourself comfortable. Tell me, what do you like? What do you know about cell biology?"
"Nothing. It is not my place to know such things. How is your Wife?"
Glen almost forgot to close the front door as he realised that this was a true believer. "My Wife is not here. Your partner is Offred."
"I will not end up like your last one, Commander Cooper-Deeds."
"No, you won't end up like the little bint. Call me Commander Glen, I can't stand my own surname."
"Yes, Commander Glen."
"What's your name?"
"Ofglen."
"What's your name?"
"Ofglen."
The Commander slumped into his armchair. He & the rest of Mayday may as well not bother with this one.
The darkness of the room only served to highlight the screens across the wall. Numerous Guardians stared at each device, while others took notes. "Your system is clearly up to standard," Glen told the Angel in charge.
"Thank you, sir."
"Wait a moment, focus on the marketplace."
As though he was there, Glen and the Guardians could see Emily, Ofglen, Offred, and a variety of Handmaids, Marthas, and Econopeople. Offred and Emily were talking about something, then Ofglen pulled Offred away. Alone, Emily, or Ofsteven now she was with Scott- looked around and dashed in the direction of a car.
"That's my car!" Glen realised. Mrs Cooper-Deeds had just got out of it.
Emily ran for the vehicle. "Halt!" a Guardian shouted.
"Don't!" Glen said. "Don't! Don't."
Emily opened the door. The sentry ran after her.
"Oh, she is. Fucking gosh, what a pillock!"
Off Emily went with his car. Already, she was attracting quite a crowd. Likewise, the CCTV room Guardians all crowded around the monitors, much to the displeasure of the Angel, not that anyone was listening to him.
Eventually, some soldiers started running after her, apparently thinking they were able to move faster than a car. Someone chose at that moment to park their Land Rover right in her path.
"Get my car back, whatever it takes," Glen told the Angel. He watched him talk into his radio and saw on the screen that everyone had their gun pointed at Emily. What was the point though, if they weren't going to use them on a valued breeding machine?
"WHOA!" said everyone, including Glen. Emily had just reversed and ran over a Guardian behind the car! One of his colleagues ran to help.
"What's she doing?" asked the Angel.
As soon as he'd spoken, the car zoomed forward, right over the injured man. He was even more injured afterwards.
Finally, someone smashed the driver seat window, as they should have done when Emily'd first stopped. Unlocking the door, they dragged her out. The slamming doors of the Guardian van signalled it was over. Wisely, Ofglen dragged Offred away.
"I tried to help her," Glen told the Angel. "I so tried to help her, and now I want to shove a railroad spike into her head. I'm charging for that window, by the way."
"That's my brother," one of the CCTV operators said. "He was up for promotion to Angel. That fucking cunt killed him!"
"Put this on," Glen told Ofglen after he had her put on a minidress, heels, and makeup. He was holding a blue robe, the sign of a Wife.
"Commander?"
"Are you deaf, you dumb bitch?"
In the car, Glen pulled the hood of the dress over Ofglen's head and drew her closer. "Where we're going, you're not allowed. Pretend to be Messalina, pet."
"Yes, Commander."
The plan was simple. Show Ofglen the Jezebel's brothel and ensure she sees the corruption at the heart of Gilead, the sheer hypocrisy. Get her to see how it's not some underground pleasure palace but an official business that employs Aunts. With luck, she may even meet the Mayday operatives, not that he knew who they were barring the barmaid. Once through the lift, he walked Ofglen around and then grabbed one of the prisoner-prostitutes, an African-American with short hair. "Lily, meet Ruby. She's one of my favourites. Ruby, the usual, but I want Lily here to watch."
After his session with Ruby, Glen quickly passed a package to the barmaid and then asked Ofglen, "What do you think?"
"I didn't want to watch, Commander. In the time before, that happened to me all the time."
"What do you think of us doing that behind closed doors, and of me calling you Lily?"
"If God wills that Commanders and Angels can enjoy themselves, so be it. As for calling me Lily, that's your decision, Commander."
"Bloody hell, love, you are difficult. What is it, the British accent making you super-pious or something?"
Glen & Messalina watched as the Guardians took Ofglen into the black van. "What's happening, darling?" the Wife asked.
"The bint disobeyed Aunt Lydia by not stoning Ofdaniel," Glen explained. "What do you think?"
Messalina, a wide-eyed woman who was also a British immigrant to the former USA, waved her hands and rubbed them over her flowing hair. "I see a darkness coming. Not now, not yet. Oh no, Glen-baby, I see a pain, she won't talk. She won't talk! I see baseballs!"
"That's great, Mess. Come back inside."
Half a day later, Ofglen finally returned to the house. "Blessed be the fruit," Messalina greeted her.
Ofglen opened her mouth but nothing came out. The Wife and the Commander quickly discovered that she had no tongue. "Aunt! Aunt, get back here!"
Let's just say that Glen's reaction to Ofglen's punishment was do violent that the Aunt dared to jab him with her cattle prod she was so terrified. Growling like a bear, Glen snapped the metal stick in half and then invited Mess over. One of the soldiers in the street had to carry the Aunt back to the Red Centre once the pair were done.
"Ofglen, here's a pen. Write down what happened."
The Handmaid shook her head.
"Write it down, Lily, or I can't help you."
Ofglen raised the pen, opened it, stared at the Commander, and began. They cut out my tongue because I spoke up for Ofdaniel.
"What did Ofdaniel do?"
She abducted the baby she had when she was Ofwarren. She threatened to jump off a bridge. She handed the baby to Offred and jumped off anyway. They rescued her, treated her in hospital, and then tried to have us Salvage her.
"Oh, that. Bit odd, I think, treating her and then trying to kill her. I'd have just let her die. Carry on."
They took us to that stadium, Fenway Park. They set up scaffolds, we thought they were going to hang us all. It was a trick. Aunt Lydia then took us back to the Red Centre. She made us kneel in the rain holding a stone. She announced Offred's pregnancy. She rang a bell. She burnt Ofrobert's arm. She let us all go except me. She then cut out my tongue.
"We'll do something, don't worry. Ah, Laura, what's happened?"
Laura was a new Martha and another doublethink-addled person who was both an Eye and a Mayday operative. "Commander, all units are on red alert. Offred has disappeared. Waterford has taken command of every Guardian in Massachusetts."
"Really? I think he's been waiting for this. What did Mayday do with Offred anyway?"
"They won't tell me. They also say that this is too risky with such a high-ranking Commander's Handmaid, so they won't be able to take anymore Handmaids from Boston until further notice."
"Thank you." Glen sighed. He was about to arrange for Ofglen to cross the seas to the UK. "It would've been 'Hello, Picadilly, Hiya Leicester bloody Square.'"
And so it came to the bombing. It made the issue of getting Ofglen out moot, but Glen now had to consider the need for him, his adopted children, and Messalina to get out. Still, if he could get others to Britain, why not himself? As for the Marthas and the Guardians, who gave a toss?
He wouldn't need to run though, would he? No one would think he had anything to do with it? Oh, no, everyone is now staring at him. Glaring at him. Without thinking, Glen legged it. Gunshots rang out, but none of the Angels knew how fast Glen could run.
One of the Aunts who'd been looking after the Handmaids ran at Glen, as though she was in a rugby match. The Commander gave her a knee to the stomach and continued. Seeing the Angels & the Guardians pursuing him, he drew his own weapon and gave himself some cover fire. There was no going back now.
Once he'd sneaked back home, Glen ordered Messalina to drive the normal car with 2 of the children while he took the others in his car. It would be close, he could hear the FZZZ-BARA-BAR-BAR-BAR-BAR-FZZZ of the Guardians' radios getting closer. Without bothering to raise the garage, he smashed right through the door and zoomed off, ensuring that he mounted the pavement and took out a few twats. "Have an effulgent demise!" he yelled.
He linked up with his house's CCTV, separate from the Gilead system, and saw the Guardians break in and shoot everyone inside dead on the spot. Then the feed went blank and Glen could only assume that either the connection was cut or the bomb had gone off. Hopefully, he'd smash the Waterfords' fence.
Once out of Boston, with Mess still following behind, Glen turned on the radio. "Listen, children, this will be your future, not the bullcrap of Gilead."
Feeling old impulses come back, Glen danced as he drove and sang.
And saw it through without exception
I planned each chartered course
Each careful step along the highway
And more much more than this
I did it my way!