Transmission

A pregnancy was cause for celebration, or would have been had Elan and Belle been in possession of a fourth life license. Each had one, tied to uniquely sacred objects. Elan, a small bronze figure he’d played with as a boy. Belle, a gold bracelet that had belonged to her grandmother. Their young son, Adler’s, legal right to exist was represented by a misprinted coin from the old world, rare enough on its own. The three objects were kept in a safe, bolted into concrete under the floorboards of their modest home.

With exactly four billion such licenses in existence, each one held an almost unfathomable value. For that reason, it was best to share the identity of one’s object with only the Registry, which collected painstaking documentation, and alone could confirm the authenticity of a claim. The objects were transferable, and often passed down in a family. When mother passed, her daughter might inherit her object, thus her license, and would then be able to bear a child of her own. If the daughter was in possession of her mother’s object, she could transfer the license to a new object; something sturdier, lesser known, more unique.

I carried the shell of an antique titanium pen, myself. Of course, there was no tip and no ink, both of which have long been banned along with any sort of writing instrument or medium. One will not find books, paper, electronic screens, or anything of the like. We are searched often for these types of contraband. Human communication takes place vocally and in private. It has been this way for years.

I won’t speak of my own crimes, which are irrelevant, but Elan’s initial tangle with the law occurred when he attempted to steal a life object for his unborn child. He was a good man though, which was proven when he saved me from a group of prison thugs intent on committing atrocities against me, or worse. Poor Elan spent weeks in the hospital, and I visited him as much as was allowed. We became close and used those moments to devise our escape plan.

We were forced to leave our objects behind, knowing we would be fugitives forever. Not built to withstand that place much longer, at least on the outside we’d have a chance.

We ran. It was a blur of adrenaline and darkness. With no Nav unit, we could only sprint away until we found a suitable shelter. We weren’t sure where the prison was, but the coastline provided some clues. Too exposed there, we followed a group of decommissioned smokestacks and hoped to disappear into an industrial wasteland. More populous than expected, and with the word of our escape spreading to authorities, it didn’t take long until we were made, and the chase began.

Days later we found ourselves in an abandoned factory which appeared to have once manufactured costume jewelry. Elan was shot badly in the leg. We searched for a first aid kit but found only scraps of decaying cloth amongst surplus bracelets, necklaces, and rings. It was a box of hundreds of locket necklaces, each shaped like a heart, that sparked a preposterous idea in Elan’s mind.

I discovered an office supply room with a few reams of illegal paper, as well as a novelty typewriter on someone’s desk and one working pencil. Elan typed and counted as our once and future captors closed in around us. He slowly bled. I paced the halls.

When he had finished, Elan handed me a hundred and fifty tiny bits of paper and instructed me to fill the lockets. We cut them into tiny heart shapes with rusty scissors and slid them into each locket one by one, our dirty, meaty fingers fumbling. Elan told me to trust him, so when I read 154M and 97S and 235I, I didn’t bother to ask what it meant.

Flashlight beams and footsteps were closer. We dumped the completed lockets back into the box and I shoved a few empty ones into my pocket. Elan told me to find a woman named Zora, who would help me put the plan into action. He also gave me the last known location of his wife, who had fled after his capture: 4154N842W.

With that, I bid Elan farewell, and promised I would not fail. He thanked me before he drew the authorities in the opposite direction, and I escaped with the box. I heard the gunfire, but just kept running, tears streaming from my eyes until it was only the sound of the wind.

I stole clothes and changed my appearance slightly. I traveled south for days, constantly looking over my shoulder, until I located Zora near 3405N11824W. She had connections at the Channel and apparently owed Elan a big favor. Zora was not comfortable with my request, but she agreed to it, considering her debt paid thereafter.

I also asked her for three names, listing the criteria that Elan had given me: possessing enough annual Klicks to traverse the ocean, no governmental affiliations, unencumbered by family or close personal relationships, and most importantly, objectively bad -- narcissistic, sociopathic, murderous, perverted, and so on. I handed her one of the empty lockets to use as a reference.

Zora came up with three names and provided the coordinates of their homes. She gave me a spare Nav unit, some food, and a vinyl backpack before sending me on my way. I dumped the lockets into the backpack and set out to the first location.

It was awkward, the first few conversations. How do you tell a stranger with a straight face that they have been selected to become a leader in the new world government? That this cheap locket is their ticket to unimaginable power, and they must, as such, register their own life license to it? And then ask for three more names, people like them, without being offensive?

The first two laughed at me. The third threatened to kill me. I don’t blame them. But I told them to watch the Channel that evening, and I would return tomorrow. I watched and prayed that Zora would come through.

It was quite artful, actually. The subtle integration. A secret message only someone looking for it would notice: the brief image of the locket during a broadcast about how perfectly well everything was going.

When I returned to the homes of the first three, their attitudes had reversed. They all took a locket, transferred their life license to it, and provided three more names of deserving individuals. I told them what I would tell everyone who received a locket, to keep their eyes on the Channel at the exact same time they’d seen the first message the previous night. One day soon, it will be shown again with a location. They were to travel to that location exactly six weeks to the minute, where the transfer of power would begin.

Not every referral proved fruitful, but as I traveled from the west coast of continent Alpha to the east coast, compounding leads with every conversation, I found that the scourge of society tends to be connected. These were not people living high quality lives, and thus the promise of a fresh start, however outlandish, seemed to motivate them. Elan knew this.

What he may not have predicted was the behavior the locket bearers developed on their own. They wore their lockets openly. They recognized one another and ducked away to have private conversations every time they saw another like them. Rumors began that spread at first one on one, and then in the regional groups that were formed. Representatives from these groups were sent out in all directions to find others and share information. A communication network formed completely organically. As I had given them all only cryptic information, their imaginations ran wild, and the legends grew on their own.

I heard about the chosen ones in places I hadn’t even distributed yet. They would be the ones to restore countries and culture. They would allow the population to flourish unabated. Each of them would become a king or queen of their own territory. They were being recruited to colonize Mars. They were chosen based on their supreme genetic profile to create a new master race that would take over the world. On and on.

Traversing the ocean not once, but twice would be almost impossible. My reputation, however, preceded me. Anointing the Captain of a large, fast ship as one of the chosen proved rather shrewd. I was hidden away on the vessel and provided meals and facilities as the ship made its way to Gamma.

It took me about a week to get to the location Elan had provided and locate Belle. I did not make contact, but it was clear she was very pregnant and very frightened. I found a suitable location for the meeting about a day’s walk from her hideout, and memorized the coordinates displayed on my Nav.

My Captain took me back to Zora, through the Alpha-Beta Canal and up the coast. I told her it was time for the final message, but she said she knew what I was doing, and there would be no message unless I made her a part of it. She had heard the myths and wanted in. I tried to dissuade her, but she would have none of it. Ultimately, I gave in and placed the final locket in my possession around her neck. She contacted the Registry and had her life license associated with it. She was proud to be identified as 300N of the chosen ones.

The message was broadcast as requested and I made my way back to Gamma with the Captain, who would return in time to take his seat among the planetary rulers.

I returned to the venue I had selected to prepare. I took odd jobs in the area and bartered for food and currency. I navigated various black-market organizations to procure key items. I checked in on Belle, who was now on the verge of bringing a child with a predetermined death sentence into the world. The plan had to go perfectly.

They began to arrive. All the people I had met over the past few months, who were once skeptical and were now adamant that their personal truths were the real truths. Each handed me their locket as they stepped down into the crypt of the old stone church. They ate and drank from the provided spread. They greeted those they knew and met those they didn’t. They were all so energetic. Zora arrived and melded in alongside the Captain. I counted to three hundred in the room. I counted three hundred lockets in my possession.

I slipped out quietly, barricading the doors behind me with large wooden beams. There was no way out. Part of me felt bad for deceiving them, especially after seeing the camaraderie they shared, albeit utterly delusional. Through the thick stone walls, I could still hear the first screams, gasps for breath, crashes onto tables, breaking of bottles, cries for help.

Belle wept as I introduced myself and told her of Elan’s fate. I could do no more but hand her the bag of lockets and wish her luck. My own debt to Elan had been paid, and now I was free to seek out a new existence.

I don’t know if Belle ever figured it out, but if she had placed the lockets in numbered order, she would have read:

BELLE

I CANNOT BE WITH YOU

BUT IF YOU ARE READING THIS MY TRUSTED FRIEND HAS SUCCEEDED

EACH LOCKET LEGALLY REPRESENTS A LIFE LICENSE

ONE IS FOR OUR BABY

MORE IF OUR FAMILY GROWS

NOTHING IS MORE VALUABLE THAN LIFE

USE THESE TO TRADE FOR WHAT YOU NEED

PROVIDE FOR OUR CHILDREN

GIVE TO THOSE IN NEED

MAKE A BETTER PLACE FOR YOURSELF IN THIS WORLD

I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU

ELAN

I hope she did.