Page 8 of Resistant

“What does that mean, unknown designation,” I ask.

“Your husband did not declare allegiance to the New Reform, is that correct,” he asks.

“Yes.”

He stops talking and makes a note on a clipboard he carries in his hand. His partner glances at me, and Nathan moves a little closer to my side.

“We are here to implement the new social rules established by the New Reform. Resources are being organized at this time and you’ll receive more information about those programs soon. You should know new curfews are starting at 7:00 PM, and temporary food rations are being put in place until the local government factions can take over. You will receive enough rations for three people at the grocery store, and credits for medical services. Credits for services will need to be earned and will be assigned to you based on your skill set. You will need to register for medical services and other benefits. The hospitals are currently being transitioned to New Reform control, and most doctor’s offices will be shut down until they can be appropriated. It is advised you stay inside to avoid any fallout spreading from more populated areas. You will have a caseworker assigned to you and your family to help you through the transition. Your caseworker will be contacting you soon.”

He hands me a pamphlet and a thin paperback rule book and walks away. His partner looks me in the eye, smirks, and lifts his chin.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Evans.” His voice is startlingly deep, and I shudder. He’s good-looking, but there’s something about him that screamsmenacing. And while he’s done nothing to put me ill at ease, I can’t help but feel like prey. I’m afraid of this man, but I don’t want him to see it. He turns and heads back toward the Humvee.

I blink a few times and watch the caravan move further down the dirt road and the tears start flowing. I’m scared, and I’m furious. I put my arm around Nathan and pull him inside.

“Mom, what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know honey; I’ll figure something out.”

I’m awake most of the night reading the literature Bennett gave to me. The new rules are mind-boggling. Credits control everything, for me and my children. School requires 5 credits per day, and I am required to keep 100 in a bank for them to attend a week at a time. Credits will be used to buy food. Credits are used for medical care and prescriptions. Credits are used for vehicle purchases and road access. They are earned through government-controlled work programs, and the pamphlet includes a list of these occupations but most of them don’t make sense to me. There are obvious ones, like doctors, farmers, and law enforcement. But there are others that I don’t have any idea of what they may actually be, like counsel, trade worker, breeder, aesthetician, transitioner, and provider. Rumors spread about what these new vague credit-earning positions are, and like most small-town gossip it is all outrageously terrible news. And like most small-town gossip, I try my best to ignore it and worry about it when I have the facts.

A week or two later, I am visited by a woman who introduces herself as my transitioner. She is dressed in a red suit. She looks to be about 60, still in great shape but I can see the heavy wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Her suit looks like something straight out of the forties, her hair is styled in victory rolls. A few streaks of gray stripes in her dark hair accentuate the pin curls. She has a red matching garrison cap pinned behind her rolls. She wears no makeup, and her mouth takes up a disproportionate amount of space on her face.

“Good morning Mrs. Evans. I’m Mrs. Enlightener. I am your assigned Transitioner.”

She hands me a business card that reads Mrs. Mary Enlightener, Transitioner Southern Region.

“May I speak to you privately? We have some delicate matters to discuss regarding your new work post.”

I feel my skin run cold, and goosebumps break out on the back of my neck.

“Sure, come inside. I’m afraid I don’t have anything to offer you but a glass of water.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you, no thank you though. I’m fine.”

I’m not thrilled about inviting this strange woman into my home. But if I am going to provide for my boys, I need to have as many allies as I can. I lead her to my kitchen table and we both sit down.

She looks around and makes notes on her clipboard.This cannot be a good thing.Lily comes into the kitchen, sniffs at our guest from a few feet away, and lays down at my feet. Mrs. Enlightener finally looks at me, and her expression is grave.

“I’m afraid I have bad news. As a transitioner, it’s my job to help you and your family fit into the new society, and based on your previous political associations your choices are limited. I’ll help you get started in the programs, and assigned counsel will take over from there.”

“I don’t understand, I don’t need an attorney.”

“Oh well, you misunderstand, counsel does not provide legal professional services as it was once referred to in The Before. The counsel will ensure that your family is enrolled in the programs and help you adjust. I’m here to start your transition, and your counsel will see you through the rest of the process. Because of your husband’s previousaffinities, your options for earning credits are limited, or rather, you have one option. You will work in the Trade, unless, you would like to adjust your recorded affiliation and have opportunities for other more lucrative positions?”

She smiles, a big toothy grin that gradually morphs into a sinister sneer.

“What do you mean, my affinities, and what is the Trade?” I’m wary now. I don’t like her tone, and this all feels bad.Danger Will Robinsonplays on a loop in my head.

“Why your affinity is your political registration, dear. You have never registered in The New Reform party, so naturally your future is minimized. Now, the Trades are local pleasure houses catering to men and women with lucrative positions in your area. These are not brothels like in the before, you will see to your client’s needs in your own home. You will be assigned a government cell phone which has a preinstalled app so you may choose your suitors. You will earn credits based on your number of associations and your willingness to provide services. And you will be rated on your job performance with the chance to earn merit credit increases based on your reviews in the application.”

My inner snark takes over and sarcasm bleeds through my tone.

“So, I’m to be a prostitute, unless I pledge my allegiance to the New Reform. I’m a little old for a sex worker, don’t you think?”

“Nonsense, you are not a candidate for the breeding program, so this will be perfect for you. Now, you will be assigned a Provider to help you get started with your new work. Your Provider will help you manage clients and will organize any resources you may need. Your Provider will take a set commission from your credits every week.”

I’m furious, and fear forces me to trade my snarky tone into outright belligerence.

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