The group was larger than Thalia had expected. She knew that her mother and brothers would be there, maybe a handful of friends. Looking out over the crowd, she realized that her entire department from work had come, people she barely knew who lived in her building, the clerk from the gas station, and her dental hygienist. Even though the event was supposed to be reserved for friends and family there were plenty of faces she didn't recognize. They hadn't come because of her, because they wanted to say goodbye. They'd come for the spectacle of it. It wasn't everyday that someone got placed in permanent quarantine. Most people were sensible and consented to participate in treatment.
She smiled and put her hand against the thick glass, wishing she could say goodbye properly, but there were rules that had to be followed. Her friends and family needed to be protected. The enforcers of quarantine did not make exceptions.
Thalia had gone through all the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance, but she had chosen this course. Even now it wouldn't be too late to accept treatment. Once she was cured she could go back home, pretend that nothing had changed. Thalia doubted her choice, as she doubted everything that she did, but the stubbornness in her heart kept her from ringing the bell that would summon the team to take her to the treatment center, rather than taking the long walk into the unknown.
Thalia's mother stood near the center of the crowd on a little platform. The frail old woman gave a little wave. Her voice came over the loud speaker in the isolation chamber. "Honey, I love you. Why don't you just do what they say and come home? I need you!" Tears stung Thalia's eyes at the sound of desperation in her mother's voice. She had other children. Thalia's brothers had been neglectful of Mom, but they would make sure she had everything she needed. It would have been nice to offer her some reassurance, and Thalia felt a familiar flair of anger at the enforcers and their rules. Those who gathered were allowed to speak to Thalia and say goodbye, but she was not allowed to speak to them.
Thalia didn't have a common infection of the body. Hers was an infection of the mind. She harbored unacceptable thoughts, and engaged in subversive behaviors. Any contact with others would put them at risk and threaten the harmonious society that had been delicately forged in the aftermath of the culture wars of the late 2020's. Thalia had been a child then, and remembered the violence. She did not want to be a danger to society. She just wanted to be herself. Going to the Dissident Reservation was the only option that allowed for both.
It was her sense of humor that had gotten her into trouble. Thalia knew the code of moral opinions, could recite the words better than the most fervent supporters of the document, but she'd never entirely agreed with it. When she was young she had been much more careful. She didn't argue, didn't question the rules out loud, and she certainly didn't tell jokes about inappropriate subjects, especially not in the work place.
As she'd gotten older she'd gotten increasingly careless, rebellious even. She'd started watching old movies. The ones that were now marked with content labels to warn that they "May contain subversive messages, not acceptable for all audiences." Thalia loved old movies, and had found out over time that she was not alone in this. There was a freedom in the comedy that was well... infectious.
In the crowd she saw her movie friends. George from work had become a friend, might have become more than a friend if they'd had more time. He was the one she had been talking to when she'd gone too far. Pauline had been one cubicle over and had heard every word. She'd placed a complaint with HR. Thalia expected to be reprimanded. Maybe even to lose her job. That incident wasn't her first offense, only her worst one. "I'm sorry Thalia," her supervisor had said when he called her into his office. "It's out of my hands. You need to report to the assessment center for evaluation."
Thalia's body didn't stop shaking the entire drive to the center, but she didn't cry. She was a good person. She would never hurt anyone, not on purpose. She knew how to answer all of the questions. She was going to be fine. Just fine.
The questions were different than the ones asked by the HR department the last time she'd gotten in trouble. The formal questionnaire used by the center was a deep psychological evaluation designed to control for intentional deceptions. It asked the same questions over and over again phrased in different ways. Still Thalia thought she wasn't doing too badly. It wasn't until the final interrogation process that she'd finally snapped. She'd ended up admitting to a number of opinions that weren't entirely what she believed, but weren't not what she believed either. In the end she got frustrated and ended up cussing at them, all those colorful words that littered the old movies she loved so much. That's when Thalia knew she'd been found out.
Everything was fine really, even now. The new system wasn't barbaric. They gave Thalia choices. There were treatments available, medications that would help quiet her aggressive and overactive mind, or intensive trainings that would provide conditioning to ensure that Thalia shared fully in correct, socially approved opinions. Thalia rejected these options out of hand. "I'll go into quarantine," she said. She doubted her decision at every moment, but never once wavered.
Life would be harder on the reservation. They didn't have electricity. This was to ensure that they couldn't get online and cause additional trouble. No contact with the outside world at all. Supplies were airdropped into the reservation monthly, but no one could tell her what life might be like on the inside. She might be walking into a nightmare, but somehow Thalia suspected this would not be the case. The people on the reservation weren't violent criminals, only subversive thinkers. Part of Thalia found the idea of going in thrilling. Nobody cared what you said or did on the inside. She could laugh without fear, voice her darkest desires, argue her point without holding back.
There were other messages of love and support that came in over the loud speaker. Friends shared favorite memories, well some of the safer memories at least. Pauline came on the line, "I just... I wanted to tell you... I didn't mean for things to happen like this. You were always nice to me. You just shouldn't have said what you said... Anyway, I'm sorry."
Thalia couldn't stop crying. She didn't regret her decision. She realized with every passing moment and every message of love that she wanted to leave, looked forward to leaving. She just wished she could hug them, wished she could tell them the truth about who she was and what she believed. She believed they were suffering. She believed that the code was crushing them. She believed that none of them could ever feel really safe or really happy no matter how good the system tried to be, because the soul needs conflict in order to survive and thrive. Even though she was going to a place surrounded by barbed wire and would never come out again, they were the ones living in the prison. She was walking toward Freedom.
George came on the line next. He made her crazy. Disagreed with her on nearly every point, but he made her laugh, and she liked him. "Hey sexy! So I've been giving this a lot of thought... how to say goodbye to you... and I realized I don't want to. Fuck these stupid ass communist motherfuckers who don't know how to take a fucking joke..." The speaker went suddenly silent. Thalia watched as George was approached by enforcers from the center, who moved diligently to isolate George from the crowd. There was no violence. George went with them peacefully.
"Oh George," Thalia said to the empty box, "You beautiful idiot!"
There would be no more goodbyes. The crowd was being dispursed, and as far as Thalia could tell from inside her box, there were no further outbursts or protests. Most people were content enough to do what they were told, and maybe comfort was a fair trade for freedom, but Thalia didn't agree. She'd only wished she'd had the courage to break more rules sooner.
She smiled and put her hand against the thick glass, wishing she could say goodbye properly, but there were rules that had to be followed. Her friends and family needed to be protected. The enforcers of quarantine did not make exceptions.
Thalia had gone through all the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance, but she had chosen this course. Even now it wouldn't be too late to accept treatment. Once she was cured she could go back home, pretend that nothing had changed. Thalia doubted her choice, as she doubted everything that she did, but the stubbornness in her heart kept her from ringing the bell that would summon the team to take her to the treatment center, rather than taking the long walk into the unknown.
Thalia's mother stood near the center of the crowd on a little platform. The frail old woman gave a little wave. Her voice came over the loud speaker in the isolation chamber. "Honey, I love you. Why don't you just do what they say and come home? I need you!" Tears stung Thalia's eyes at the sound of desperation in her mother's voice. She had other children. Thalia's brothers had been neglectful of Mom, but they would make sure she had everything she needed. It would have been nice to offer her some reassurance, and Thalia felt a familiar flair of anger at the enforcers and their rules. Those who gathered were allowed to speak to Thalia and say goodbye, but she was not allowed to speak to them.
Thalia didn't have a common infection of the body. Hers was an infection of the mind. She harbored unacceptable thoughts, and engaged in subversive behaviors. Any contact with others would put them at risk and threaten the harmonious society that had been delicately forged in the aftermath of the culture wars of the late 2020's. Thalia had been a child then, and remembered the violence. She did not want to be a danger to society. She just wanted to be herself. Going to the Dissident Reservation was the only option that allowed for both.
It was her sense of humor that had gotten her into trouble. Thalia knew the code of moral opinions, could recite the words better than the most fervent supporters of the document, but she'd never entirely agreed with it. When she was young she had been much more careful. She didn't argue, didn't question the rules out loud, and she certainly didn't tell jokes about inappropriate subjects, especially not in the work place.
As she'd gotten older she'd gotten increasingly careless, rebellious even. She'd started watching old movies. The ones that were now marked with content labels to warn that they "May contain subversive messages, not acceptable for all audiences." Thalia loved old movies, and had found out over time that she was not alone in this. There was a freedom in the comedy that was well... infectious.
In the crowd she saw her movie friends. George from work had become a friend, might have become more than a friend if they'd had more time. He was the one she had been talking to when she'd gone too far. Pauline had been one cubicle over and had heard every word. She'd placed a complaint with HR. Thalia expected to be reprimanded. Maybe even to lose her job. That incident wasn't her first offense, only her worst one. "I'm sorry Thalia," her supervisor had said when he called her into his office. "It's out of my hands. You need to report to the assessment center for evaluation."
Thalia's body didn't stop shaking the entire drive to the center, but she didn't cry. She was a good person. She would never hurt anyone, not on purpose. She knew how to answer all of the questions. She was going to be fine. Just fine.
The questions were different than the ones asked by the HR department the last time she'd gotten in trouble. The formal questionnaire used by the center was a deep psychological evaluation designed to control for intentional deceptions. It asked the same questions over and over again phrased in different ways. Still Thalia thought she wasn't doing too badly. It wasn't until the final interrogation process that she'd finally snapped. She'd ended up admitting to a number of opinions that weren't entirely what she believed, but weren't not what she believed either. In the end she got frustrated and ended up cussing at them, all those colorful words that littered the old movies she loved so much. That's when Thalia knew she'd been found out.
Everything was fine really, even now. The new system wasn't barbaric. They gave Thalia choices. There were treatments available, medications that would help quiet her aggressive and overactive mind, or intensive trainings that would provide conditioning to ensure that Thalia shared fully in correct, socially approved opinions. Thalia rejected these options out of hand. "I'll go into quarantine," she said. She doubted her decision at every moment, but never once wavered.
Life would be harder on the reservation. They didn't have electricity. This was to ensure that they couldn't get online and cause additional trouble. No contact with the outside world at all. Supplies were airdropped into the reservation monthly, but no one could tell her what life might be like on the inside. She might be walking into a nightmare, but somehow Thalia suspected this would not be the case. The people on the reservation weren't violent criminals, only subversive thinkers. Part of Thalia found the idea of going in thrilling. Nobody cared what you said or did on the inside. She could laugh without fear, voice her darkest desires, argue her point without holding back.
There were other messages of love and support that came in over the loud speaker. Friends shared favorite memories, well some of the safer memories at least. Pauline came on the line, "I just... I wanted to tell you... I didn't mean for things to happen like this. You were always nice to me. You just shouldn't have said what you said... Anyway, I'm sorry."
Thalia couldn't stop crying. She didn't regret her decision. She realized with every passing moment and every message of love that she wanted to leave, looked forward to leaving. She just wished she could hug them, wished she could tell them the truth about who she was and what she believed. She believed they were suffering. She believed that the code was crushing them. She believed that none of them could ever feel really safe or really happy no matter how good the system tried to be, because the soul needs conflict in order to survive and thrive. Even though she was going to a place surrounded by barbed wire and would never come out again, they were the ones living in the prison. She was walking toward Freedom.
George came on the line next. He made her crazy. Disagreed with her on nearly every point, but he made her laugh, and she liked him. "Hey sexy! So I've been giving this a lot of thought... how to say goodbye to you... and I realized I don't want to. Fuck these stupid ass communist motherfuckers who don't know how to take a fucking joke..." The speaker went suddenly silent. Thalia watched as George was approached by enforcers from the center, who moved diligently to isolate George from the crowd. There was no violence. George went with them peacefully.
"Oh George," Thalia said to the empty box, "You beautiful idiot!"
There would be no more goodbyes. The crowd was being dispursed, and as far as Thalia could tell from inside her box, there were no further outbursts or protests. Most people were content enough to do what they were told, and maybe comfort was a fair trade for freedom, but Thalia didn't agree. She'd only wished she'd had the courage to break more rules sooner.
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