AN: Here we go, another chapter here.
I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"Everyone will have jobs. It's the first step to being a productive citizen. You have to be able to contribute things to society. One of those things is a service of some type," the officer named Don Wallace explained.
Daryl had never seen the man before. The way he said his name left Daryl wondering if Don was his first name or part of his last. He ran the whole thing together like it was one long word with hardly any breaks in between: Officerdonwallace. He was black, clean shaved, and he hadn't missed any meals within the past few years. He seemed on board with the project, though, and he seemed a lot less aggressive than some of the other officers that Daryl had come into contact with. He was the second officer in the round of them that they'd all talk to. The first, a woman whose name Daryl had already forgotten, had talked to them about housing and she'd seemed more like a real estate agent than anything else. Maybe she didn't realize they weren't buying these places and they'd take what the hell they were given.
They'd been allowed to break themselves up into small groups. This way, as Samirah had explained, they could pass through to listen to each person without causing too much trouble or risking the safety of anyone. They were wild, after all, until proven tame and that meant that precautions had to be taken. Too many of them together, without enough guards, and they could be in for trouble. Breaking themselves up, at least, meant that Daryl knew most of the people he was with. Daryl was grouped with Carol, Michonne, Andrea, Lisette, T-Dog, and another male inmate that had introduced himself by his number until prompted to give the name "Bill" as something easier to call him—at least among the inmates.
"What kinda jobs you wanting us to do?" Daryl asked.
Officer Don Wallace looked at him and shrugged. He spoke, though, signaling that he wasn't dismissing Daryl's question entirely.
"That's going to depend on you," he said. "We're going to be open to just about anything. The goal is to get the community running like a free standing part of society. It's to prove, in a microcosm, that you could exist entirely on your own. Naturally, it means that most jobs will be needed."
Daryl could see Michonne nodding. She was watching every move of the people that spoke to them. She was hanging on every word. If they missed anything, they could probably count on her to recount it back to all of them with the accuracy of a tape recorder. Daryl wasn't sure if she was just that interested in what was happening or if she was looking for some kind of sign that it was trick. Thus far, Daryl hadn't heard anything that he didn't think was more straightforward than anything they'd heard so far and at least seemed legitimate.
"So that's it?" Michonne asked, glancing out the corner of her eye at Daryl to confirm that he was done asking whatever it was that he had to contribute. "That's all you want from us? Go in here and prove we can survive?"
Officer Don Wallace shrugged again and nodded his head. He laughed to himself.
"I know you think that there's some kind of joke to this," he said, "but the truth is that there just isn't. This is what you were intended to do all along. You were intended to go into society and function again. To rebuild and—survive, as you say. The community is designed to show you can do just that."
"That's what we were doing out there!" Andrea barked.
Carol quickly reached a hand across and put it, palm down, on Andrea's chest. She pushed the woman back, reminding her quietly that outbursts—even if they felt warranted—might get them into trouble. Andrea calmed visibly, but her face was still twisted up in the confusion and frustration that she was clearly feeling.
"That's what we were doing out there," she repeated, this time with her voice at a reasonable level. "Before we were uprooted. Before we were dragged from our camps with—weapons and whips and handcuffs. We were surviving."
Officer Don Wallace nodded his head slowly. He moved his hands to fold them in front of him on the table.
"You were surviving like animals," he said. "We want to show that you can survive like people." The man sighed. "Now listen, I'm not the enemy. Before the turn? I was just the manager of a jewelry store. I lost people before we ever made it to a safe-space. I've had to rebuild my life. I chose to become an officer because I wanted to help those that weren't able to get to the safe-spaces and had to live longer out there. I wanted to help those that had to go wild just to survive. I'm on this project because I still want to help. Out there you were surviving. In here? We want to teach you to live."
Michonne moved her hands from under the table and she started to clap. She started to clap slowly and rhythmically. Daryl looked at her and she leaned back in her chair, smirking at Officer Don Wallace.
"That was beautiful," Michonne said. "Really...heartwarming. But you'll have to understand if we don't believe it. If we don't think we can. We were captured. Nobody found us out there, asked us to come nicely, and invited us into warm and safe environments. We were threatened. We were harmed. We came because they were going to kill us if we didn't. Since then? We've been incarcerated and beaten. We've been starved out. We've been tortured. You'll understand if we don't believe that there are no catches to this—plan—that all we've got to do is go and play house for a little while for our freedom."
Officer Don Wallace sighed and shook his head. He leaned toward Michonne.
"Listen, inmate," he said.
"Michonne," she said, interrupting him. "We're people, remember? We have names. If we're not people? I'm LC457F."
"Late Capture?" Officer Don Wallace asked. Michonne shifted in her chair and nodded. The man's expression changed slightly. "I'm not here to tell you every last detail. And I'm not here to tell you that things haven't been done differently than they were ever intended to be done. Things still aren't functioning the way we intended, and that's why we're here. But if you're not going to cooperate? Then there's no need in you moving forward. It won't help you or anyone else if you wreck Wave Thirty Three for everyone involved."
"Nobody's going to wreck anything," Carol interjected quickly. "It's not what we want. We're just—cautious."
Officer Don Wallace's face relaxed with Carol's tone of voice. He nodded at her.
"Be cautious," he said. "But don't attack those of us who are trying to help. I'm here to talk you through what you want to know about jobs. The rest? It isn't my business."
Carol nodded, obviously trying to soothe the man, and then her eyes darted around while she thought of something else to say to him.
"How long, after we get there? How long before we—know what we're expected to do? Before we know what our jobs are?" Carol asked. "And—what if there are too many people for one job and not enough for another?"
Seeing that he was getting cooperation, Officer Don Wallace relaxed. He sat back in his chair. He folded his hands, now, across his oversized stomach. And Daryl listened as he went back to detailing out what would be expected of them in their new role.
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"Home building is a key part of societal construction," the woman said, reading from the piece of paper. Carol noticed as it shook gently in her fingers. She was nervous and Carol wasn't sure why. She was reading from the paper like it was a script. Maybe it was there simply because she was nervous—maybe it was because she wasn't much of a public speaker—maybe there was another reason.
The woman speaking to them was a doctor. She forgot to introduce herself upon entering the room, but Carol recognized her. She was one of the physicians that cycled through Region Thirty Three. She tended anything that needed caring for—from the common cold to injuries sustained during taming— and Carol had seen her more than once, she was sure of it, even if she couldn't remember specifically why.
Also, seated across from them, was the woman who urged them all to call her Samirah. She smiled and nodded her head as the doctor read from her script. Whatever the reason for the doctor's nerves, Samirah didn't seem shaken at all, even if she did seem a little exhausted by the whole thing.
There was no telling, though, how many groups they'd already been through. Carol counted that she and her group had seen seven different people—this was the eighth and, she assumed, final meeting—and they'd waited in between those. The information they had was still relatively limited and Carol knew that they'd be trying to figure it all out together at the first opportunity they were given to speak freely and privately. At the moment it was like having all the pieces to a puzzle but still not being sure what the final picture was really supposed to be.
"The government defines good citizens as those who are law abiding and contribute greatly through community building and through societal advancement and growth to the fullness of their abilities," the doctor continued, still reading aloud from her script.
"That's really nice," Daryl interjected. "But what the hell does it mean?"
T-Dog snorted to Daryl's right and quickly covered his mouth to hide the smile that would give away his amusement. Carol stifled her own laugh. Everyone they'd spoken to seemed to present things in a convoluted manner before they were finally forced to simplify things down to their basic meaning.
Those are pretty words, but what does it mean for us?
Samirah took over for the doctor. The woman who had been reading to them sat back. The task of presenting to them taken from her, she looked visibly more relaxed. Samirah furrowed her brow as she spoke to them, attempting to simplify what they needed to know.
"The important thing for the government is that citizens are law abiding. Law abiding citizens means that we don't have problems with crimes. We don't have problems with..." Samirah started.
"People bucking the government," Michonne interjected. Samirah nodded at her.
"Law abiding citizens live normal, peaceful lives," Samirah said. "Boring lives, if you will. They work. They live together in harmony. They have—barbecues and meetings and celebrations."
"Pleasantville," Daryl said. "Mayberry." He got a nod as well. "But that don't exist," he added.
"It does now," Samirah said. "At least, for the most part it does. Right now? Society is functioning at a level where there are very few non-wilds who require imprisonment of any kind."
"So everyone in prison is wild?" Carol asked. "Or..."
Samirah raised her eyebrows at Carol and nodded for her to continue.
"Or every time someone does something that the government doesn't like," Carol said, "they just classify it all under the name of being wild?"
Samirah didn't confirm or deny what Carol said with words, but Carol saw something flash quickly in the woman's eyes. Suddenly, Carol wondered if the reason that the woman next to Samirah was nervous—the reason that quite a few of them had a somewhat strange air about them even—was that they were all being watched by someone. Carol swallowed. Her stomach churned.
Maybe even those who were free never really were.
Samirah sucked in a breath and started speaking again. She seemed to be simply ignoring Carol's question.
"Society is functioning on a supremely peaceful level right now," Samirah said. "To prove that you're all human, and that you can adapt to that, you'll have to show that you can be peaceful and productive. You'll work your jobs. You'll—do normal things."
"But there's a catch," Michonne said. Samirah shook her head.
"Not a catch," she said. "That's all—it's all just what it is. And law abiding citizens teach good lessons to their children. They raise law abiding citizens. And—with the population of wilds consistently larger than those who are functioning in society, the government is promoting the growth of society. The expansion of numbers of law abiding citizens."
T-Dog laughed, almost a low growl in his throat.
"You want us to repopulate the Earth," he said.
"Not alone," Samirah said. She held her hand up at Michonne, cutting her off before Michonne could utter any words. All she had to do was lean forward and Samirah seemed to know what was coming. "The government's hope is that law abiding citizens will, in what they define as fruitful relationships, bring up more law abiding citizens. There's no rule. And since there's no law, or rule, saying that they have to have children, there's no enforcement of the rule. It's a given that some women simply can't have children, but it is seen as preferable that families have children."
Carol's heart was pounding and she couldn't seem to find her own tongue. Her brain, at the moment, went spiraling out of control until she couldn't even find words to put into spoken language any of the thoughts she was having. Suddenly, she almost felt like she was on the verge of a panic attack, but she couldn't express herself. And, luckily, she didn't have to because Andrea shouted it out for her.
"What about the children we already had?!" Andrea spat, anger coming from somewhere deep inside her and far beyond the discussion that was taking place in the room. "What about the children that you took from us? That they took from us?"
Immediately, the officer in the room was on Andrea and held her with her arms behind her back, pinning her down to the chair she was sitting in. She wasn't fighting him, though, even if her face showed her anger.
Samirah, across the table, looked a little less settled than she had.
"You've got to calm down," she said, her voice remaining fairly even keeled. "If we remain calm, we can discuss things..."
"What about our children?" Carol asked, suddenly finding her own voice thanks to Andrea's outburst. "That's all we want to know about. Please. Nobody has told us anything—and now? What about our children?"
Samirah looked at her and she looked over at Andrea who, though she was still restrained, was showing no actual signs of trying to do anything physical against anyone.
"There's someone else here," Samirah said. "Just to talk to those who were captured with children. You'll see her before you go. For now? We have to finish here."
