86
It was Friday, and her new pupil wouldn't be starting until the following week, which gave Katherine more than enough time to prepare. She instructed Edward to leave a message on the Bates answering machine, letting them know that she would require a copy of Jennifer's final essay as well as any notes her high school teacher had made. Next, she spent the first part of the night scouring her apartment for her own copy of Nineteen Eighty-Four, only to remember that she had given it away some sixty or seventy years ago to a favored fellow university graduate in California. She, therefore, had to order Edward to pick her up a copy from the bookstore in town so that she could sift through the text and re-familiarize herself with it until she could speak on it with confidence.
In the meantime, the matter of Nneka's letter weighed on her mind.
He is making moves to gain political power in the South-West.
Why? For what possible reason would he be trying to cultivate power among humans? And why in the South-West commonwealths? Cinema newsreels were only preoccupied with local news, and the holotapes that she set to record radio broadcasts proved useless when she realized that he would of course be going under an alias, and therefor she wouldn't be able to recognize him unless she actually saw his face. She tried to watch television news but this was equally frustrating because she could only watch broadcasts after dark, a time when most channels shut down for the night. The only exception were late night talk shows, more interested in celebrity gossip than politics. She cursed Nneka for giving her so little information.
It was only on Monday of the following week that she saw his picture in the paper, quite by chance, under National News. He was dressed well in a pale suit, his fingers steepled under a very serious expression. The black and white photograph may not have been able to show her the color of the panel behind him, but it didn't make a difference to the man at the center of it. His white skin, jet hair and steel-grey eyes would have been just the same if the camera man had had the full spectrum of visible colors at his disposal. The last time she had seen him, his hair had been messy and loose, not oiled back as it was here, but even so there was no mistaking those eyes, that grim expression.
Candidate for Governor of Nevada, Bill Grave, Reveals his Plans for Healthcare Funding.
Grave? Really? Katherine would have laughed at the heavy-handed pseudonym if his sudden appearance hadn't shocked her like it did. It was only a step above Azazel, the scapegoat, the one who takes the fall for the sins of humanity. The thought of this man taking on the identity of the punished innocent had always sickened her and she could only imagine what joy he must derive from using 'grave' as a metaphor - a metaphor of what she didn't quite know yet. The article was less than one hundred and fifty words long.
Bill 'the Butcher' Grave announced his plans early Sunday afternoon to make significant cuts to the healthcare budget for the state of Nevada. Speaking to our reporter outside Desert Springs Medical Center, he expressed his disappointment in the current allocation of tax dollars in this sector. "It should be going back to the people," he told us. "Instead, I see it go towards extortionate drugs that have inconsistent success in treating disease, and the rest straight into the pockets of corrupt doctors." The cuts are predicted to bring taxes in the area down by as much as 2%, but critics of his policies have pointed out that the cost of care for patients might rise dramatically as drugs and treatments become scarce.
Katherine's eyes narrowed. She had her suspicions on why he would have embraced the nickname of 'The Butcher', given to him by supporters no doubt because of how he was carving chunks out of budgets left and right.
She tried to tell herself that it didn't matter really. He was all the way over there, on the other side of the country, after all, and it didn't seem to her that he was all that interested in her at the moment. The idea of him having any kind of power certainly did not appeal to her, but if he had been elected fairly by the people of Nevada, then what business of it was her if they were making questionable decisions in leadership. Live and let live, right? He could do what he liked, and he wasn't stopping her going about her daily business, so why worry about it.
Even so, trying to put this out of her mind felt like going about with her front door wide open. Most residents forwent locking their doors anyway - but everyone would still at least close their doors, because an open door may as well be an invitation.
XXX
80
"Well, now that we've finally gotten your mother out of the way… "
It was 7:30 pm. As they were at the beginning of August, it was only just starting to get safer for Katherine to rise a little earlier, and even at this late hour, the sun was only just setting and she felt groggy and lethargic. She had just started on her morning coffee when Mrs. Bates rapped on her door, causing her to jump. Sighing, she stepped up to the door, checked her face in the hallway mirror, and assumed her best professional smile, before opening the door and letting both of them in. She had tried to keep their preliminary conversation brief, offering to get started immediately whiles Mrs. Bates processed payment with Edward, hoping to fob off the woman. It wasn't until 8:00 pm however, that Katherine was successful in assuring Mrs. Bates that Jennifer was safe in her hands, and that she would personally drive the girl home in time for bed, complete with homework for their next session. Even so, Mrs. Bates had a terse word with her daughter just before she left, when she thought that they were out of earshot of Katherine, implying not so subtly that there would be hell to pay of Jennifer ended up wasting her mother's money.
Katherine's flippant remark drew a small nervous smile from Jenny, who was sitting on Katherine's sofa with her hands folded on her lap.
"Would you like some coffee, Jenny? Tea?"
Jenny mumbled a tiny 'no', cleared her throat and said more firmly; "No, thank you."
She was a pretty girl, wearing her a classy but practical blouse that was tailored to pinch her waist, and a skirt that stopped tastefully just above her knees. As much as these clothes were expensive and well selected, it was clear that Jenny was uncomfortable in them, shifting and fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, tugging and adjusting her woolen pantyhose. Her make-up was similar, well chosen for her dark complexion, but applied a little too heavily around the eyes, which were big, wide and a rich warm brown. Her hair was black and, like the rest, well cut but haphazardly and hurriedly styled in fashionable curls.
Katherine took her seat opposite Jenny in her armchair and patted the book lying between them on the coffee table.
"Right, so let us get down to it then. Did you bring your essay with you like I asked?"
Jenny produced the essay, some five sheets of neat, if hurried handwriting, complete with teacher's notes and feedback written in red ink. It only took her a two or three minutes to scan through it, and she was aware of Jenny attempting to hide her anxiety with a nonchalant posture and apparent disinterest, looking out the window into the street.
"Interesting interpretation," Katherine commented, and Jenny's head snapped back to gaze at her as if she were suspicious that Katherine may be lying to her. "However, it's not developed enough. There's a lot of strong emotive language here, which might not be appropriate given that it's a critical essay - and your teacher is right, you could work on your sentence structure." She looked up at Jenny with a knowing expression. "But that's not why you failed, was it?"
Jenny looked away once more, putting on a bored air again. Katherine decided that she would have to answer her own question.
"You didn't copy down the question, but I imagine it was something like 'The novel Nineteen Eighty-Four, by George Orwell is a satire depicting a totalitarian regime. Explain how Big Brother and the Party are paralleled in global politics today, and what we can learn from a dystopia such as the one characterized in the book." Something like that?"
Jenny nodded, still not looking at Katherine.
"Only you wrote about the wrong country, didn't you."
Jenny's composure cracked ever so slightly, and Katherine could see her upper lip curl in a sneer. "I know they wanted me to write about how awful it is in China."
"The People's Republic of China isn't exactly paradise."
"I know that!" Jenny snapped. There was a pause. Jenny seemed to realize that she had raised her voice when she hadn't meant to, and shut her mouth, turning back to the window, her cheeks rosy. Katherine sensed that this was one of those conversations that Jenny had had one too many times. She tried another tact.
"However," she said, putting stress on the word; "You're not wrong when you compare the actions of the Ministry of Truth to the state of America's press, and how they manufacture rage and anxiety to keep the populace focused on scandal and not wider social and political issues. Not patriotic - but not wrong." Unconsciously, the image of Bill 'the Butcher' Grave floated to the forefront of her mind, but she shoved it back again before she could get distracted.
Jenny's face slackened, and she turned back, finally putting her attention on Katherine, but with the same suspicion as before.
"The parallels between Airstrip One and the PRC are more obvious. You could easily write five or six pages and still only cover the broad strokes, but do you see how the comparison you're trying to make here is a lot more subtle. You're going to have to deepen your research, and really dig a lot deeper than you have been, which I appreciate would be somewhat difficult. Writers who criticize America's political systems aren't exactly popular."
Jenny was sitting forward now, listening intently, the uncertainty in her face giving way to a timid kind of excitement. Katherine went on.
"Of course, you're going to have to rewrite this, but correctly. It doesn't matter how well researched you are, how articulate or persuasive. No teacher is going to mark this favorably if you are attacking your own nation."
"It's correct as it is," Jenny growled. Her face had fallen into a scowl.
Katherine made a gesture with her hand like a see-saw. "Mostly. But it is not what they wanted when they wrote the question."
"The question is stupid."
Katherine had to stop herself from snorting. "Perhaps, but let me explain something to you. There are always going to be times in life when you have to tell people what they want to hear."
"Even if it's dishonest?" Jenny challenged her.
"Saying that the PRC is a totalitarian society isn't dishonest."
"Some information is more useful than others. Everyone knows life in China is bad, but maybe people should be taking a closer look at themselves. What if I have something to say? What if I don't want to regurgitate what's in the textbook?"
Katherine pursed her lips and leaned back in her armchair. She wanted to scold this young woman. Jenny was hardly breaking new ground here - there were plenty of authors in her library that criticized the American system, all the way from the essays of the 17th Century to contemporary journalists. This bold statement that she was so desperate to wave around like flag was a waste of time in the Massachusetts educational system. She wasn't going to change anything, or even really shock anyone, just annoy a few markers. She wasn't failing because her teachers didn't want to see the truth, she was failing because she wasn't falling into the perfect role that was laid out for the youth of the country. At this young stage, rebellion would only cause her trouble. If only she would be satisfied to wait until college…
"Have you ever considered that not everyone sees the world as you do?"
She took a breath. Nneka's words came to her, soft and persistent. When they were first spoken, they hadn't been gentle, they had been sharp barbs that had silenced her. She took a breath.
"People aren't born with the experience of an adult, let alone an immortal, Katherine. And for all your years, you still haven't realized that your privilege isn't freedom from slavery, but the freedom to go on believing that you have nothing more to learn. You haven't once tried to understand! Think about the things that don't you know that would change your mind!"
She forced herself back into the shoes of a seventeen year old girl. It might not be the first time in history someone has cast a critical eye on America, but it was the first time for Jenny. Katherine's first revolution, her first war, her first love, her first death; it was always vibrant like blood the first time.
"Ok," she said, forcing her voice to remain calm. "What you're trying to say here in this essay, it's important to you - I mean, it's important. It's worth writing, but let's divide our priorities. Clearly, you care more about speaking your mind than passing this exam."
"And what if I do?" Jenny's eyes flashed with hot defiance.
"But you want to keep your mother off your back?"
Jenny looked down, sulking.
"And you can do that by passing this exam."
"Yes but - "
"Listen to me!" Katherine interrupted, her voice sharp.
"Don't demand to be heard until you have listened to every word we have to say."
"Damnit! I am not saying anything that isn't true!"
"Your truth means nothing when you speak over us. You're doing just as good a job of silencing us as the ones who keep our people in chains."
She stopped, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. Jenny was glaring at her. "I'm sorry. Go ahead."
Now that she had been given priority in the conversation, Jenny flushed with embarrassment, her anger now inappropriate. With nowhere for it to go, it simmered behind her eyes, ready to bubble up again at a moment's notice. "I'm just so sick of saying words that were put in my mouth by someone else."
"I know," she replied when she was sure that Jenny wasn't going to say anything more. "I would be frustrated too. It sounds like you've had to tow the line for a little too long."
Now the heat had been taken out from under her, Jenny went back to staring out the window, blinking.
"I'll help you," Katherine continued. "I'll tell you how to write the essay that they want you to write so that you pass your exam, but I want you to develop this one," she tapped the failed essay. "This is the compromise that I propose. Speak your mind here, and I'll show you how to better express yourself in writing, but write their paint-by-numbers essay in the exam hall."
"Are you serious?" Jenny was regarding her with hesitant interest.
"Yes. Education isn't just about passing exams. If I am going to be your teacher, I have a responsibility to support your independent learning as well as complying with the state."
Jenny's lips twitched a little as a smile threatened to break out on her face. "Ok. Deal."
"Right. Now that we've reached an agreement, there are some books that I would recommend you read. You're unlikely to find them in your high school library and I can lend you the one's that you can't find in the Free Public Library. I want you to do some solid research and rewrite the essay with proper citations…"
They spent the next hour going through the first half of her essay point by point while Katherine noted down a reading list. They agreed that from then on, Wednesday would be the day where they would discuss and craft her personal essay, and Friday would be the day to construct the exam-friendly essay. Jenny, much as Katherine had suspected, had a lot to say and as the conversation went on, she became more and more invested and Katherine had to work hard to keep the conversation on task and not give in to the attractive desire to go off on a tangent, complaining about this and that shortcoming of government or this or that societal construct. Jenny was like a cracked pipe, straining under the pressure of the ideas and free expression available to her here in Katherine's living room, gushing and bubbling fit to burst, but every time she came close to overflowing, she caught herself and withdrew, trailing off just as her passion was about to get the best of her.
Edward brought Katherine her coat and she noticed the time. Getting up, she heard Jenny stammer into silence once again even though she hadn't interrupted to told her to stop talking.
"It's time for me to drive you home," she said, taking her coat from Edward and shrugging it over her shoulders. "Come on, you can finish your thought in the car."
"It's ok," Jenny mumbled, and Katherine didn't press.
They drove the fifteen or so minutes to uptown Concord in silence. She pulled up to the pavement outside the Bates residence and without a word, Jenny opened the passenger door and made to climb out.
"See you on Friday," Katherine said, smiling in what she hoped was a casually friendly manner.
"Yeah," Jenny smiled back, pausing halfway out the car. "See you."
XXX
"So what am I supposed to do? I've spoken up against the landowners, I have come down here to try and help, and you're telling me that I'm not welcome! Am I just to do nothing? Go home and pretend that I never saw this injustice?"
"As if it's up to you to do anything! As if it's your place to come down here and save us like some kind of hero! If you so desperately need to cleanse your soul of the guilt you feel, then go home. Talk of what you see down here, educate your people. White ears only have time for white voices, so go use yours and make a difference that way."
"They won't listen to me!"
"The adults won't perhaps. They're happy to keep their heads in the sand. But children… They haven't made up their minds. Get them when they are young and open their eyes before age and day to day strife seal them shut forever."
"I will make more of a difference here!"
"No! You won't! … I can sense you're a compassionate soul, Katherine. I know you want to ease the suffering you see here. I know you want to do good, but you are a hypocrite if you think that you can grant us autonomy like God granted life to the lowly Adam. Do you see? Some part of you still thinks that you're better than us, that only you can fix our problems. You need to fix your own problems first. Get into education - get into the system! Fix your own society, and I'll repair what your people have broken in mine."
"..."
"...Katherine."
"I'm sorry."
"I know."