BIOLOGY AIN'T EVERYTHING
On the way home, Blaine brought up the Toronto newspaper piece again. This time his information hit me a little more viscerally.
"Oh, Jefferys, I forgot," he said. "Again, just so that you don't read it cold. The Toronto piece says that Commander and Mrs Jeffreys were not your biological parents."
I said nothing in response. What does one say? "Look, Jefferys," Blaine offered, "if true, there are ways to verify that, here in Gilead. I'd like to offer my support in helping you find out key stuff about your past. Think about it."
Inquisitiveness what not a trait valued in Gilead, so why was Blaine telling me all this? Back in Toronto when I'd been at school, it eventually had been no secret that I was pro-Gilead. I was mainly "pro" what Gilead stood for. It stood for strong leadership telling people what was what. Rather than the goofy Canadian 'inclusiveness', Gilead had the truth on its side. Truth as mediated through the God-ordained hierarchy beginning with Commanders and Chancerys.
Canada had nothing to compare.
Ok, ok, I was somewhat inquisitive. I was not going to tell my Commander that.
JEZEBELS
We pulled into the 'hotel' parking lot, the 'Commanders Only' section, entry controlled by Guardians. As Blaine got out right at the opulent front door, he said, "Park the car then come on in. I'm going ahead of you, just ask for the kitchen."
A first time for everything. As I got out, and strode back to the front door - the Commanders door - one of the other Guardians leaning against his Commander's SUV gave me a thumbs-up, and a big smile. He said for all to hear, "Gonna get some today!" Wow, is that what they think? These were colleagues, and they were just as perverse as the Commanders who frequented this place! How did these guys ever get through the Academy?
Then again things couldn't be that bad here. Inside were other colleagues, Guardians, snappily dressed and alert. Professional. I'd never seen those guys before, but guessed that they knew their business. I hoped against hope that their assignment there was not a perk, but to mitigate the dangers of the obvious temptations. Protect Commanders from themselves.
I even appreciated the way I was assessed by the Guardian from whom I had asked directions to the kitchen. Textbook. He said, "Please check any weapons over there," pointing to a coat-check room off to the side. I said I had none, and he claimed his authority over his space by reaching over and frisking me. Efficiently. If anyone else had done it I would have cracked their skull. Equally efficiently. I had a brief moment of wondering which of the two of us would prevail in a dust up - in what we used to call, 'a frank exchange of views'. Situational awareness alert - this was his space, and he had buddies. I didn't.
The plush opulence of the lobby changed into the predictable dull gray of every industrial kitchen everywhere. There he was, Blaine, seated at a nondescript table, boxes on top of it. Seeing me, he motioned to sit, which was not regulation. Then again, strictly speaking, neither was this hotel. I stayed standing.
The woman, a martha, as she approached, she was verbally offensive. If I'd been patrolling on the street, her foul mouth would have earned her the butt of my rifle. (Except that in these new-times in Gilead, we were supposed to only 'write-up' the incident and let higher authorities handle it. I was learning that Gilead was becoming bureaucratized. Thankfully, most of the work in the Blaine house spared me that.)
But does someone 'write-up' this? The martha came to the table carrying another box, looked at me and said, "Say, Nick, who's the cutey?" Did Commander Blaine really countenance this? She had even flirtily used his given name!?
The Commander said to her, "Lay off, Sam. He's the best body man in the District." What was going on? He added, "Me, I'm safe. This guy has it down to a science. Then again, if someone really wants to get to me, they will. But this guy," he said now looking at me, "He'll go down with me. Take a bullet. I'm sure of that."
Something was going on. The martha, Sam, said, "Oh, I bet he would….." then left.
The Commander arose, picked up a box, and asked me to get the other two. The boxes I was carrying had alcohol, and various old-style women's fashion magazines, the filthy kinds they had up in Canada. Magazines which fed women sexual fantasies and polluted their minds. One of Gilead's missions had been to spare women these temptations - not 'freedom to', like in Canada, but 'freedom from', like here. Yet there I was carrying a box full of them.
The alcohol I overlooked. Look, I 'got' it. Commanders carry a heavy responsibility, and should be forgiven some vices. The Bible itself was filled with stories of great men with great flaws, who God used nonetheless.
But these magazines? Jezebels? So much for my situational awareness - heading back out into the lobby we went past that very same Guardian who had frisked me. He simply let the Commander pass unhassled. With me, he came over and fingered his way through the boxes - the alcohol and the magazines. Without an eye-lash bat, he waved me towards the outer door. The Commander was waiting, I balanced the boxes precariously, opened the back, put everything in, and then opened the right rear door for Blaine.
Then my radio squawked. I had tuned to the hotel's frequency, once I learned they had one for Guardians. They'd not covered that at the Academy. "All unposted to floor three. Third deck." Commander Blaine heard it, so he said, "Go, go, go," as he settled into his seat, he closed his own door and I ran back in.
What I saw was not the Gilead I had signed on for.
FRANK EXCHANGE OF VIEWS
Later, I could not help opening my big yup on the way back. "Sir, I wish to raise some issues with you."
He looked like he was expecting this, which emboldened me a bit. I continued, "Sir, it's not my place…."
To which he interrupted, "… no, it's not. But continue anyway."
Enough rope to hang me, I guess. But my big yap was already open, and anyway I was always looking for that sweet-spot between a frank discussion with a superior and insubordination. I started, so I was going to finish.
He said, "So tell, me, what was all the excitement about?"
I said, "I hesitate, sir, only because it is about your colleagues." I looked back at him through the mirror, and continued, "two Commanders, sir. Arguing over a girl. Both in a state of undress. She even less. She'd been cut. Badly. Turns out there's an on-site infirmary that was called. Sir, there's an on-site infirmary! Both Commanders drunk, assaulted a Guardian. By the time I arrived they'd been zip-tied down. One Commander was being tased, and it didn't seem to do any good."
Commander Blaine was silent through it all. I waited long after I'd expected him to say something.
When he didn't, I asked, "What's going to happen to them, sir?"
He giggled a bit, then said, "Jezebels has a long history, Jefferys." That's all he said.
"Truly, sir, you have no need to explain. The boxes. In the back. As a former Guardian yourself, you know our responsibilities in reporting. Someone like you must know of my responsibility to go to your supervisors about things which give me concern."
He smiled, "And just who is my supervisor, Jefferys?"
Without pause I said, "That would be Commander Rodriguez, sir. He is the reporting Commander, and, of course, the Chancery as a whole is, technically speaking, your supervisor." They'd covered that at the Academy.
"So why aren't you?"
Up until that moment, I had not considered that. There I was talking to him about it, when I should just be doing it.
"Sir," I said, "We have a good working relationship. I value you as my Commander, particularly that you know what goes into security work. You've done it. So let me ask you: did you ever turn your back after seeing acts of sedition, or activity contrary to the ideals of Gilead?"
"Many times, Jefferys, many times."
I was stunned. Mainly by the boldness of saying it. I needed to ask, because I was too far into it anyway. "For all that's righteous, sir, there was a knife fight between Commanders. Over a girl. The alcohol is not pious, sir. But I get it. But those slutty magazines, stories of the perfect orgasm for women? I don't even know what's in that other box."
Blaine thought for a second then said, "Do you want to know?" Not really. "First of all, Jefferys, there are levels of piety. Have you ever stopped to think what those magazines might be for? Strategically, I mean."
"No, sir, I have not."
"Then that may be a symptom of your age. You're young, Jefferys, you have your whole life ahead of you. You're idealistic. Don't let idealism derail you. Don't let perfection be the enemy of what's possible. You're Commander material. As a returnee, you have value to the State. You can serve Gilead all your life. You need to stop thinking about the contents of one box."
Now I was confused. There I was driving and listening to the hero of two Chicago campaigns. Someone who had once been both in the Eyes of God service, as well as a Guardian himself - body-man to then one of the most powerful Commanders there had been as Gilead took shape twenty years ago.
So it was, I was going to let this go. I said, "I am sure you have some righteous purpose, even for unrighteous things. Even King Cyrus was of use to Israel." I don't know where I'd remembered being told about Cyrus, but was glad that that ancient king had come to mind. Given that I was going to let this go, I needed my Commander to believe I was not about to do anything behind his back.
But who had been that girl, the one who'd been cut? She was obviously unclean given her activities. Is a salvaging coming up? Why would Commanders of the Faith be with her to begin with?
