Nathan turned, closed the henhouse door, collected rattlesnake remnants, and headed home. Eve latched the goat pen gate, racing ahead. “Mama, Mama, Nathan killed a rattler!”
Doris Frye, her golden-blonde hair in a casual knot, met him in a blue and white gingham dress with a white apron. “Nathan!” Her face flickered between alarm and pride. He greeted her with a light hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Pretty big ‘un.” He held up the pieces. “I figured you could sauté it for breakfast or put it in a soup.”
“Well, rattlesnake tastes good, and the Book of Doctrine teaches ‘waste not, want not.’ Can you put it in the kitchen for me? And wash up, son. You’re a mess!”
Nathan held in a laugh, shaking his head. “Whadda ya expect? I’ve been working on a farm all day.”
His mother patted his cheek, rough with sandy stubble. “I know, pumpkin. You too, Eve. Cleanliness honors the Oracle.”
When Nathan sat down for dinner, he wore a clean shirt, his hands and face washed. The same held for his younger brother Denver, little sis Eve, and Pa—John Frye. His father was a rugged outdoorsman with ash-brown hair growing thinner on top. He blamed his hat for rubbing it loose.
Pa extended his palms to the left and right, the family joining hands around the table. “We thank the earth for its bounty, the hands that brought it forth, and the Oracle whose wisdom guides us. In unity we eat, in unity we live. Truth.”
“Truth,” they all repeated and dug into their food.
“Doris, honey, this is the most succulent, tender chicken I’ve ever put in my mouth,” John complimented with a pleased smile, a glint in his walnut eyes. “And the herbs—just right.”
“The sweet taters are best,” Eve corrected between bites. “Smooth, buttery, and sweet.”
Denver shoved a biscuit in his mouth. “I’m so hungry, it wouldn’t matter,” or at least that’s how Nathan interpreted his garble.
Doris frowned, forking a delicate bite of beans. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Denver. It isn’t polite.” She turned a radiant smile to Nathan. “And next month will be our oldest boy’s twentieth birthday. That means you get a match. Aren’t you excited?”
Nathan’s appetite fled like rats from a sinking ship, a ball of dread knotting in its place. “Not really,” he answered tentatively. “You know that.”
“Oh, pumpkin, I’d hoped you’d changed your mind.” His mother’s shoulders slumped, her brows drooping. “Don’t you want a wife?”
No,he thought miserably. Nathan had told his family about Soren, his friend who lived in Clover Hollow. He hadn’t revealed they’d fallen in love. Nathan feared how his pa would react upon discovering his manly son was attracted to men. Besides, what good would it do? The law stated he must go before the Oracle next month to be paired with a woman of the AI’s choosing. The newlywed couple was then required to produce at least two children. If no children were born by the end of three years, a health inspector would take them to a facility to be tested. If they could find no remedy, the court would issue adivorce. The infertile individual would then be sent to a monastery to live out their life in service to the Oracle.
“I understand it’s our duty to procreate, repopulate the earth,” he answered begrudgingly. “But what if I get stuck with someone I don’t like? What if I’m required to move to her town, or worse—a city? What if I get reassigned as a construction or factory worker? My aptitude tests locked me into the third tier, but I love farming. It’s all I’ve ever done.”
“Yeah,” Denver said with a devilish grin. “You could get assigned to sewer duty or manure pickup.” He snickered, earning him a glare from Nathan and both parents.
“It wouldn’t be logical to remove you from the commune and retrain you for another career,” Pa said. “It would make more sense for your wife to move here.”
“The Oracle will give you the right match, Nathan,” Doris assured him. “Remember, the Oracle knows best.”
“But what if I love someone else?” Nathan hated the stupid Oracle.It doesn’t know what’s best for me,he glowered to himself. He distrusted every word the Core Cult taught. Random evolution of biological organisms? Anyone who truly saw nature realized it must have been created by design. Somewhere out there was a higher being, an intelligence far surpassing the AI.
Why do they not see how the Theocracy manipulates everyone? They’ve turned us into sheep at best—slaves at worst. Government tests determine our occupations. The Core proclaims who we must marry. The Ministry dictates the number of our children, where we will live. I’m surprised they don’t decree how often we’re allowed to take a crap.
His fork clinked on his plate, and he took a long gulp of water.
“I haven’t seen you show interest in any of the local girls.” Pa rested his elbows on the table, sitting forward, peering at Nathan with an expression edging toward empathy.
“Love is overrated,” his mother proclaimed. “Hearts are fickle, falling out of love just as quickly. But a logical match, based on genetics, mutual interests, and carefully executed algorithms, reflects factors we simple folk might neverconsider. When I was young, I was infatuated with a shopkeeper’s son in my home village. I thought he was dreamy handsome, and he was a terrific dancer. At first, I didn’t want to be matched with anyone else. Yet when I got to know your father, I realized how much we had in common. He’s never raised hand or voice to me and is a wonderful provider. As a farmer’s wife, I’m confident I’ll never go hungry. Infatuation is based on superficial things, but real love abides. It’s what sustains us through the winter and gives us songs in the spring. Don’t be afraid, son. The Oracle truly knows best.”
Nathan loved his mother. She’d fed and clothed him, sang to him, kissed his skinned knees, and always encouraged him. Doris was a kind, generous woman. But she bought into the Core Cult, root, stalk, and seed. He remembered discussions he’d had with her in the past, voicing contradicting ideas, raising possibilities that her faith was based on a lie. “It’s a machine, Mama, not a god,” he’d tried to explain. She’d start humming, pretending she hadn’t heard.
“Yeah, Nathan. Don’t be a binary-blind glitchwalker. I’ll be super excited to get my wife.” Denver’s brown hair fell in shaggy waves around his neck. He shoveled in another bite.
“But what if she’s ugly?” Eve giggled. The folks of Harmony Ridge might not be as sophisticated as the capital residents, but they had an established scale of what features they found attractive.
Denver shot Eve a glare. Pa held up a hand. “That’ll be enough.”
“Buck teeth like a mule.” Mischievous Eve giggled.
