The Heart-Shaped Locket

“552 years!” John Poe shouted. Tall, fiftyish, grey hair, John was a rare citizen sporting leathery skin browned from years under artificial suns in the caverns. “Hubert T. Gandy wasn’t always a saint. Embracing the corruption of his time, he became the first multi-trillionaire. Like Noah, God warned Gandy of His wrath at capitalist greed and of the consequential gnashing of teeth that would end the world. Gandy repented and expended his entire fortune to employ scientists and other experts to construct the Complex in secret. All citizens have memorized the inspiring story of Gandy and the words and melodies of the songs honoring his life and teachings. His benevolence blessed us until, at age 98, God took him home. On the first anniversary of his passing, Gandy was granted Sainthood by unanimous vote of the Committee of 52.

“It is said the Committee of 52 was created by Gandy prior to the Apocalypse by following instructions communicated directly from God through a small heart-shaped locket with faint whispers that only Gandy could hear and interpret. The Committee served us well until the discovery that essential systems were failing. This information was withheld from the citizens until the flow of water became a trickle. Outraged citizens demanded that new sources be found. Today, supplies from the new sources are also diminishing. Equally alarming, the oxygen-rich air from our electrolyzer caverns is endangered by a decrease in geothermal energy to power our electrical needs. Should we lose our geothermal sources, we will lose everything.”

Lead Committeeman Tom Fritz was angry. An artist admired for his inspiring depictions of Saint Gandy and the Heart-Shaped Locket, he threw his wet paintbrush across the Cavern, splattering Citizen Jackie Thunderbustle with paint that seemed to glow as brightly as the lights in the caverns. “The problems are not the Committee’s fault!” Fritz shouted.

“I don’t blame anyone,” John said. “The problems are a result of natural seismic events over a long period of time. We don’t have the equipment necessary to accurately locate and tap into better sources.”

Fritz shook his head sadly. “Citizen Poe, you paint a bleak picture.”

"Not nearly as bleak as you painted me!” Jackie Thunderbustle shouted. “Damned glowing paint all over my new dress,” she mumbled. The attending crowd of citizens roared in laughter.

“The situation is bleak,” John said. “It is similar to the pandemic 40 years ago when the growth of infections was hidden so as to not cause panic, but the death rate increased so rapidly the need for emergency action became obvious.”

“So, you’re back to that?” Fritz said. “Yes, we lost 49% of our population, and folks like you blamed it on the Committee instead of the unhygienic practices of those who contracted and spread the damned disease.”

“There was no evidence of unhygienic practices by the victims of Variant Tango,” John said. “The vast majority of victims were people of color trapped by their lack of access to facilities where they could safely isolate themselves from viral hot spots. The Committee sealed off the tunnels leading to areas where they might have avoided infection.”

“We did that to stop the spread of the disease. So, now you’re charging the Committee with murder?”

“No,” John said. “We are all victims of a deeply ingrained racist and classist system; we all share the guilt.”

“You are verging on Blasphemy!” Fritz shouted.

“No!” John said. “I don’t Blaspheme the Saint. We lost our footing when we regarded the white race to be superior to those of color and station. Colonizing others, acquiring and hoarding wealth is the focus of our evil capitalist system. People like Hubert T. Gandy became obscenely rich and powerful by stealing wealth from the only people who create it: the workers.

“Most of us are not overtly supremist,” John continued. “Covertly, we resist efforts to meaningfully address the fact that we are beneficiaries of a system oppressive to people of color and/or low station. The system grants us advantages we fear losing because we lack confidence we can compete against all people on an equal basis. We fear we will lose everything if the last remnants of the system collapse. This isn’t on a conscious level, it is subliminal, hidden by layers of denial and rooted within our very souls.”

“That is utter nonsense!” Fritz said. “It is heresy. It is based on the same anti-Complex demands of the youthful socialists who follow you like puppies.” A large portion of the crowd booed.

“Boo me all you want!” Fritz screamed over the jeers of the crowd. “But you are the loons who demanded this meeting with the intention of acting on irresponsible claims that the Secret Three Tunnels should be located and opened up.”

“Like it or not,” John interrupted, “People of color and poor whites were admitted to the Complex only days before The Apocalypse, and only after promising to accept the positions offered in exchange for saving their lives. They worked longer hours than anyone on physically demanding, stressful, dangerous jobs, as well as frivolous domestic services under demeaning conditions. Even so, they were denied decent food, housing, healthcare, education, utilities, better jobs, and other benefits we take for granted. Their descendants are still discriminated against today, 552 years after their ancestors joined the Complex. 95% of the 800 deaths caused by Variant Tango Pandemic were people of color. The remainder were impoverished whites. These facts cannot be swept under the rug, and neither can the fact that women are banned from service on the Committee.”

Fritz faced the angry, jeering, and shouting crowd. “How many of you misguided fools believe the Heart-Shaped Locket was actually spirited away from the highly protected Saint Gandy Memorial Cavern and forced open?”

John raised his hand. “I confess, I believe,” he said. “In my capacity as Volunteer Gandy Memorial Cavern Director, I personally opened the locket,” he said in a loud, defiant voice. “Guess what I found inside?”

“I refuse to hear this!” Fritz screamed. “All lies! All lies! Nothing truthful comes from your unholy mouth!” This time the crowd pounced on the Lead Committeeman. They pushed Fritz to the ground, beating and kicking him until John helped him escape with the remaining twelve and still loyal Committeemen. Their dozens of followers followed them down the tunnel leading to the nether regions of the Complex while the remaining crowd of citizens laughed and cheered.

“Fellow Citizens!” John shouted. “This meeting went quicker and easier than I imagined,” he said in a hushed, confidential tone. Many in the crowd laughed. “We must now make our own individual decisions. The first concerns the myth of the Heart-Shaped Locket. Prior to the final construction of the Complex, Gandy had the Heart-Shaped Locket made and he invented the myth that God spoke to him through the trinket. He did that so it would become a sacred and protected icon that only his daughter and her heirs would have access to should the Complex fail in the future. But Gandy’s daughter didn’t marry or bear children, so the secret of the locket died with her when she passed at age 87. The locket was placed on display in the Gandy Memorial Cavern. As its Volunteer Director, I personally opened the locket two weeks ago and read the secret note Saint Gandy left for his daughter. Engraved on sheets of gold were the locations of the Secret Three Tunnels and instructions on how to open them should the Complex fail.”

John held up his hand to silence murmuring from the shocked crowd after his revelations. “Fellow Citizens, due to our long history of untreatable diseases, fatal accidents, a limited genetic pool, low fertility and birthrates, coupled with the past pandemic, there are now only 210 of us. The deepest tunnels of our Complex hold the remains of our ancestors. Each year, there are more dead and less living to maintain the Complex. All our support systems are failing. We must take the action Saint Gandy wanted his daughter or her heirs to perform. You must choose to leave the Complex or die inside it. My choice is to explore the surface. I might die of radiation or be murdered by barbarians as some have suggested. I feel remaining within the Complex is a path to certain death while the surface might usher us into a new world of hope and adventure. Yes, my choice may be risky, but in that case, both choices will lead to death. During these past few weeks, our excavation team has opened the shortest of the Secret Three Tunnels. All I know is it is the quickest way to the surface. Please follow me to a new life in a new world.”

A New World

John was dismayed that so few citizens had actually followed him. All but one member of the excavation team chose to remain within the Complex at the last moment as did the vast majority of what had seemed to be a strongly supportive crowd. After all, their parents, siblings, spouses, children, grandparents, other relatives, friends, and ancestors were all born and raised in the Complex. They were conditioned all their lives to think of the Complex as the only refuge they had, their only world, the one place of safety from the terrible fate suffered by those on the surface. They were at home within the loving arms of Mother Earth and could not bear to think of parting with her by stepping into a frightening and unknown world that might still harbor evil, death, and destruction.

Ten people. Two young mothers and their five children. Two men in their thirties, and one elderly grandmother of three of the children. John was the eleventh who dared to exit the Complex. The small group emerged from the tunnel into a brilliant sunlit day. A gentle breeze caressed John’s cheek, the new experience caused him to flinch. They worked their way down a steep and slippery talus strewn slope, then through thick brush and a towering forest under a beautiful blue sky. They all ducked in fear from butterflies and other insects fluttering and buzzing about. They continued to trudge downhill toward a valley containing a large meadow of soft green grass. The meadow and its numerous flowering plants straddled both sides of a wide river of icy clear water streaming from distant snow-capped mountains. No longer in sight of the rocky cliff face from whence they came, they heard and felt a deep thunder that gently shook the ground beneath their feet. “It’s okay, John said, reassuring the others. “The excavation team has sealed the tunnels with explosives. There is no turning back now.”

None of them had ever seen such spectacular sights in their lives. Paintings and photographs of places like this did not exist in the Complex, having crumbled to dust long ago. The group of 11 were awestruck, even the children gasped in stunned silent amazement at the beautiful and unusual sights overwhelming their senses.

They neared an unexpected sight in the meadow. It was a scattering of cone-shaped structures from which people were emerging to join a crowd quietly gathering to watch the eleven strangely dressed people. An elderly man stood at the head of the crowd, He was wrapped in a colorful blanket and wearing a headdress of feathers. Six bare and muscular young men bearing spears accompanied him.

“Welcome,” the elderly man said, smiling as he and his protectors approached. “We are the original inhabitants of this land that was once destroyed by insane white men who came from a world of straight lines. We trust the Great Spirit has sent you to learn from us this time, and to live with us and nature.”

John and the others didn’t know the language, but they felt the warmth of the old man’s welcome and trusted his smile. In turn, they each smiled and embraced the Chief Human Being, happy to finally be home.