THE GALA

It was immediately evident that the music was not appropriate for such an evening. Serena wondered who'd been the genius who'd booked a soft jazz-combo called, 'The Stimulators'. At least there was no vocalist - the tune they were now playing was about a woman who'd been stood up for the night, and had ended up bedding the cab-driver. Not exactly 'Sons of Jacob'.

Serena had been discussing the fertility crisis with a man who said he was a colonel. His daughter was a lawyer in a Boston law firm, but she and her husband were having trouble giving him grandchildren. "Her biological clock is running," was what he'd said. After expressing his opinions about 'women's work', he concluded with, "I have no problem with women in my command. It's the gays and transgenders who are ruining things. That's why I'm here."

Turning from him, there she was, Sonia.

"Are you stalking me?" Serena quipped. Sonia assured her that she wasn't, that Ray had ordered her over. Go talk to Serena, he'd said, we have to look unified.

"The expression is, 'Blessed Day', Serena," Sonia said. "Either that or, 'May the Lord Open'. You didn't get the memo?" The silence was icy. "I should say, Serena, you look good in teal. What about me?"

Serena scanned the identical outfit her new nemesis was in. "Screw you, Sonia," Serena offered.

"That's hardly 'Sons of Jacob', Serena," Sonia returned. "I bet that doesn't make it into your next book."

Serena started to look around at the milling crowd, hoping to catch the eye of someone else. No luck.

"You may not want to listen, Serena, but Fred is a ticking time-bomb. So is Ray, but Ray is my problem."

Serena sipped her drink, then said, "So far, you bitch, all I have is your word. I assure you, there's nothing wrong with Fred on that score." She continued her lie, "I'm tempted to give you dates and gory details about our marriage - late at night, I mean. Then maybe you'll leave me alone."

"Suit yourself, Serena." Sonia then related what had happened when she'd confronted Ray about Fred.

Ray had beaten her. Badly. This time, Sonia didn't even try to hide it. Serena almost felt sorry for her.

THE LONGS DAY'S JOURNEY INTO NIGHT

It was late, well past midnight and the roads were clear for the limousine to make good time home.

Despite the hour, Fred was all smiles. "We're farther along than I dreamed. Pryce says that the vice-president down in D.C. is the only remaining roadblock. Says that the time to strike is when Congress convenes to ratify the Electoral College. Apparently, we'll have twice the demonstrators there for that than we imagined. The V-P will cave in." Fred said that all the Sons of Jacob districts were now acting as-if one. "A Herculean task dealing with all those egos," Fred had said.

He turned to look at her, trying to interpret Serena's silence. "What?" he asked. "Are you afraid that we won't need your new books?"

"I did what you asked. I mingled with Sonia." She let the silence lead what she was to say next. "Ray beat her up, Fred."

Fred turned to look out at the black city passing by outside. He said, "Well, it's his home. It's none of our business."

"I swear, Fred. If it were us, you'd not see me for the dust."

He turned back to look at her. "You know that would never happen. You and me, we're a team. Without you, I'd be selling ad-copy for women's lingerie."

"I'm just putting our house on notice. I can always go back to being an author, or restart the television career." Which she knew were diminishing possibilities, especially if the Sons of Jacob had their way.

She also imagined the fight she'd have on her hands if Fred was having an affair with another woman, like that office staffer months' ago. At least she would know the rules of the fight.

She'd be lost, though, if Fred was seeing other men. Like Ray flippin'-Cushing. Does Ray beat Fred?

Best not to think of that. The new order was fast approaching.

NOT WANTED ON THE VOYAGE

For the first time ever, Fred said that Serena had not been welcome. It's not that she'd ever enjoyed meetings with Pryce, Cushing, Putnam, Deeds, and the rest of the Sons of Jacob. With Cushing, being absent actually saved on embarrassment and irritation. Serena and Sonia had not talked in months.

This was the first time that Fred had come to breakfast and informed Serena that she wasn't coming, "the men only".

"It's hard to get consensus with the other Sons of Jacob chapters in other States," Fred had said, summarizing what passed for debate in the post-US Constitution era. "The one thing we can agree on, is to implement your book. Satisfy yourself with that! Infertility is the tie that binds."

The first thought in Serena's mind? 'If Sonia is not allowed to be there, then that makes it almost tolerable'.

It was the simplest of things, Fred complained, that took the most time. The name of this new republic. Getting all the Districts to agree on one name seemed impossible.

There neede to be one name for other countries to recognize. Not just loosely federated, regional districts all claiming the same things. Sovereignty. Since sovereign States (or in Massachusetts' case, a sovereign Commonwealth) no longer existed, the term United 'States' seemed counterproductive. Besides, internationally the United States still existed, albeit now in Anchorage, Alaska.

"The D.C. folks are talking about a truly Biblical name - 'Gilead' is being floated."

What!?, thought Serena. "The D.C. Jacobs have appointed enough Supreme Court Judges who will sanction the merging of Biblical values with what remains of the old US Constitution, not that that useless piece of paper amounts to anything these days."

Then, Fred said, the justices will themselves be arrested.

"But why 'Gilead'?" Serena asked. "Years of Bible study, as well as Sunday School way-back-when - I've never heard of it."

As his limousine pulled up outside, Fred got up to slurp down the last of his coffee. "D.C. is breaking through the lack of consensus in the other districts. The egos are collapsing. Me, I've heard 'Gilead' floated because it was the area that Moses had assigned to some people of Israel in what is now Jordan. Others say 'Gilead' would be apt for us, because that was the name used for a 13th Tribe of Israel. I actually could care less. Whatever the name is, it has to look good on letterhead."

At that he was off. As the limousine pulled out of the driveway, Serena sat wondering if she should be cleaning up. She worried that as Fred, Ray, Warren and the rest of the men got up to speed, that there would be less and less for her actually to do - except for here. She thought to herself, "If I get reduced to 24/7 knitting, I'm going to go bats."

So she decided not to wait for Sally's arrival.

THE PROBLEM WITH SALLY

Sally was an hour late. Serena made a note - she was going to have to remind her that there was an employment contract. Many provisions within had been on Sally's insistence to her own benefit. For instance, she wanted it recognized that she was a single-parent.

Coming in the door, Sally was breathing fire. "Mrs. Waterford, I'd been warned by family about working for you, Mr. Waterford being Sons of Jacob." In this past month, parts of Sally's extended family had prophylactically departed for Canada.

"Look, Sally, I'm about to have a hard day. Can we put a lid on that stuff for a minute, and just get on with the house?"

Sally said angrily, "That's just it, Mrs Waterford. Imagine my surprise when I go to get some cash this morning. My card wouldn't work. The bank wasn't open, but there was a sign on the door. 'By Order of the Provisional District Government some accounts have been suspended. Please see the manager.' I was going to get a cab, but the sign said that 'women's credit cards' were also suspended. I had enough cash to get here, but none for a tip."

Sally then spat out, "the driver, he then called me a slut."

"Look, Sally, there's going to be misunderstandings. Believe me, Fred is at Beacon Hill right now, at the New State House. They're ironing all that out."

"How am I going to get home, Mrs. Waterford?" Sally asked. "There's already talk at my daughter's school that girls with be sent home, 'for the duration'. What the hell is that all about?"

Fearing that the longer they talked, the less that was going to be done to clean the place, Serena said, "Sally, I'm serious. We're an hour behind as it is."

"Look, Mrs. Waterford. I think it would be best if I just left right now. If I have to walk, it'll take me that long to get to my daughter's school. If she's there!" Sally put her coat back on and headed for the door.

Serena shouted after her, "Well, you're not being paid, not for today!" She then looked at the clutter from breakfast. Was this what life was going to be like in this new 'Gilead'?

THE POLICE STATION

Fred and Serena had been having a 'new normal' evening when the phone rang. It had been a long day both for Fred at The New State House, and there at home for Serena.

At Beacon Hill, there'd been a revolt among the long time civil servants. Of course, they'd been dismissed. One had been rumoured arrested. But it meant a shortage of qualified staffers for each of the Sons of Jacob who were now being appointed to legislative positions. The one advantage was that there was now no 'opposition party' to gum things up.

Serena had been exhausted after a day cleaning and cooking. At least Sally had had a system, always seemed to be able to leave by mid-afternoon with beds made, laundry done, and meals at the ready. Serena, she was an author. A thinker, not a doer.

She dreaded that tomorrow it would be a repeat. Not to mention the day after.

When Fred got in, he sat directly at the dining room table with newspaper in hand. He'd not even said, "Good evening, dear." He was so engrossed in the first Gilead-friendly op-ed from the Boston Globe, that he didn't even look up as she slid his dinner in front of him. At the splash of red wine she poured he at least uttered a weak, 'thanks.' The first indication he was even aware of her presence.

He folded up the paper, looked at the plate in front of him. "Wow, Sally's outdone herself." Serena sat at the table with her meal, and said that it had not been Sally. 'It was me.'

Fred offered a big grin and dug in. When they were finished, he reached for the Features section of the Globe and pushed back from the table.

Surveying the scene and knowing what was behind her in the kitchen, Serena risked, "Fred, would you be a dear and do the clean-up?" Still reading the folded paper in his hand, he got up, turned and departed the dining room for his office.

It was then when Serena heard the phone ring, all the way from Fred's office. Serena now at the sink, Fred came into the kitchen where she was hands-deep in suds.

"The 19th Precinct just called. Sally is in jail. She's left us as her contact. Department of Children and Families is there. About her daughter." He looked at Serena's hands in the sink, "Ok, finish up here and you can go down to see what it's about."

"You could help, Fred!" Serena barked. "And how am I going to get there? Huh!?"

Apparently her bark still had some bite. Fred picked up a dish towel and started drying. It bugged her that she had to resort to 'bitch-Serena' to get his cooperation. However, it was mostly symbolic as he did not know where each dish or implement should end up. The dried plates and pans just piled on the counter.