Chapter Six of Helena, a novel in progress. This work of fiction examines Christian nationalism, political power, and the corruption of religious language.
Mara was already at her station when Helena arrived.
The white light around her compliance band had dimmed during the night, but it had not disappeared. It formed a narrow circle beneath the edge of her sleeve, pale against her skin.
Helena sat beside her.
“Good morning,” she said.
Mara’s station sounded a warning tone.
Both women froze.
A message appeared on Mara’s screen.
UNAUTHORIZED SOCIAL INITIATION DETECTED.
PROTECTED REPRODUCTIVE SUBJECTS MAY ENGAGE ONLY IN TASK-RELEVANT COMMUNICATION.
Mara placed her hands within the marked area.
“Good morning,” she answered without looking up.
Her band flashed white.
Helena’s vibrated once.
COMMUNICATION EXCHANGE RECORDED.
At 07:45, the starting tone sounded. Their stations turned blue, and the day’s assignments appeared.
Mara worked quickly.
Her posture was more exact than before her disappearance. She never shifted in her chair, rubbed her eyes, or paused to stretch her fingers. Each assignment was completed within seconds of the recommended time.
Helena remembered the small things she had once known about her: her dislike of artificial cinnamon, her husband’s work in the northern district, her abandoned hope of having children.
She wondered how many of those things remained true.
At 10:13, Mara’s station instructed her to report to Medical Alcove Three. She rose immediately. Her screen remained white until she returned twelve minutes later.
Neither woman spoke.
At midday, Helena collected her nutrient cube and water packet. Mara remained at her station.
A transparent barrier rose around her.
PROTECTED MEAL PERIOD IN PROGRESS.
A medical dispenser extended from the wall and delivered a sealed container. Mara opened it beneath the observation light.
Helena carried her own meal to the communal tables.
Livia sat alone near the far wall. The seat across from her was empty, but Helena chose another table.
The prohibition against discussing Mara’s case did not prevent them from speaking about other subjects. It did not prevent them from sitting together. It did not require them to avoid each other’s eyes.
That was what made their separation effective.
Helena finished her meal without tasting it.
When she returned to her station, a gold border surrounded the screen.
PERSONAL CIVIC NOTICE
PRIVATE REVIEW REQUIRED
Mara continued working beside her.
Helena selected OPEN.
A seal appeared: a cross encircled by two wedding bands.
OFFICE OF COVENANT FORMATION
DOMESTIC STABILITY REVIEW
Helena read the heading twice.
Unmarried citizens beyond the preferred age of covenant formation may experience social isolation, diminished accountability, spiritual uncertainty, and unhealthy independence. In accordance with the Christian Family Restoration Act, your civic record has been reviewed for corrective domestic opportunities.
Helena felt the blood rise into her face.
She glanced toward Mara, but Mara’s eyes remained fixed upon her own screen.
The notice continued.
REVIEW FACTORS
AGE: 30
MARITAL STATUS: UNMARRIED
DEPENDENT CHILDREN: NONE
PASTORAL VARIANCE: RECENT
WITNESS RESPONSIVENESS: DEFICIENT
DOMESTIC STABILITY CLASSIFICATION: AT RISK
Helena had heard of Domestic Stability Reviews. They were described in public announcements as a voluntary service for citizens who had not yet received the blessing of marriage. The announcements showed grateful couples meeting for the first time beneath stained-glass windows.
She had never known anyone who admitted receiving one.
The screen changed.
COMPATIBLE COVENANT CANDIDATE IDENTIFIED
A photograph appeared.
For one disorienting instant, Helena thought the system had retrieved another memory.
Nathan Reed was older than the man she remembered. His face had narrowed, and faint lines extended from the corners of his eyes. His brown hair was shorter and touched with gray above the ears.
But it was Nathan.
AGE: 32
MARITAL STATUS: UNMARRIED
EMPLOYMENT: SENIOR SYSTEMS ANALYST
OFFICE OF CIVIC INTEGRATION
COVENANT COMPATIBILITY: 94.7%
Helena stopped breathing.
Her band pulsed.
ELEVATED PHYSIOLOGICAL RESPONSE DETECTED.
DO YOU RECOGNIZE THE CANDIDATE?
Two choices appeared.
YES
NO
There was no option for I once believed I would marry him.
Helena selected YES.
PRIOR ASSOCIATION CONFIRMED.
COURTSHIP ASSESSMENT SCHEDULED FOR 18:30.
ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY.
The gold border disappeared. Her unfinished assignments returned.
Helena tried to work.
The sequence on her screen blurred into meaningless shapes.
Nathan Reed.
She had first met him when they were eleven years old, before children’s friendships required compatibility registration. He had been beside her when she climbed an old stone wall behind the school and lost her footing. She remembered her face striking the rough edge, the blood running into her left eye, and Nathan pressing his shirt against the wound while shouting for help.
The scar above her eyebrow had faded over the years.
Nathan had not.
They remained friends through school. Friendship became affection, and affection became something they were increasingly expected to declare. By the time they were twenty-two, every private meeting carried the risk of being interpreted as an unauthorized courtship.
They had planned to register.
Then Nathan was accepted into government technical service.
He left for training in the central district. For the first several weeks, his messages were frequent. Then they became shorter. Eventually, they stopped.
The final communication had contained six words.
The placement makes our plans impractical.
Helena had waited for another message.
None came.
Three months later, the Office of Civic Integration announced a major expansion of the national compliance network. Nathan’s name appeared near the bottom of a list recognizing exceptional technical service.
Helena understood.
He had chosen his career.
Years passed. The registered-courtship system offered her other candidates. She declined the first two and allowed the third invitation to expire. After that, the offers stopped.
Until now.
At 17:00, the dismissal tone sounded.
Mara continued working behind the transparent barrier. Her protected schedule did not end until 17:30.
Helena stood.
For a moment, Mara’s eyes met hers.
“There was never a child,” Mara had whispered the day before.
Helena wanted to tell her that she believed her.
Her band displayed the route to the Office of Covenant Formation.
She left without speaking.
The courtship center occupied the ground floor of a church that had once belonged to a denomination Helena could no longer identify. Its original name had been removed from the stone above the entrance. In its place were the words:
WHAT THEREFORE GOD HATH JOINED TOGETHER, LET NOT MAN PUT ASUNDER.
Inside, a woman wearing a rose-colored uniform greeted Helena.
“Welcome. Your candidate has arrived.”
Helena looked toward the closed doors behind her.
“How long has he been here?”
“Arrival time is not a compatibility factor.”
“I only asked—”
“Please follow the illuminated line.”
A gold path appeared on the floor.
Helena followed it through a corridor into a room designed to resemble a private parlor. Two upholstered chairs faced each other across a low table. Flowers stood in a narrow vase. A Bible lay open beneath the projected image of a stained-glass window.
Nathan rose when she entered.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
The attendant remained in the doorway.
“Candidate Reed,” she said, “you may offer the approved greeting.”
Nathan looked at Helena.
“Peace be with you.”
“And with you,” Helena replied.
“The initial conversation period will last twenty minutes. Physical contact is not authorized unless permission is displayed. The Scripture will provide appropriate subjects if conversation becomes unproductive.”
The attendant closed the door.
Helena and Nathan remained standing.
“You look well,” Nathan said.
The sentence was so ordinary that it felt dangerous.
“So do you.”
“That isn’t true.”
“No.”
A slight smile passed over his face.
It was the first expression she recognized.
They sat.
The table illuminated.
DISCUSSION PROMPT ONE
DESCRIBE YOUR UNDERSTANDING OF CHRISTIAN MARRIAGE.
Nathan glanced at the words.
“A lifelong covenant between a man and a woman, established by God for companionship, moral order, and the raising of faithful children.”
The answer sounded memorized.
Helena wondered how many times he had repeated it.
“And you?” he asked.
“I have received the same instruction.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
She looked at him.
The phrase was too close to Pastor Ward’s.
Nathan saw her reaction.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
The table remained illuminated, recording the delay.
Nathan folded his hands.
“It’s nearly disappeared,” he said.
“What has?”
“The scar.”
Helena touched the skin above her left eyebrow.
“You remember that?”
“I ruined my favorite shirt trying to stop the bleeding.”
“It was an ugly shirt.”
“It was my favorite.”
“You cried more than I did.”
“I thought you were dying.”
“I needed four stitches.”
“We were eleven. Four seemed like a large number.”
For a moment, the courtship room vanished.
They were children again, sitting beside the old wall while Nathan held a bloodstained shirt against her face. She remembered his fear more clearly than her own pain.
The table sounded a gentle tone.
CONVERSATION HAS DEVIATED FROM THE SUGGESTED SUBJECT.
PLEASE DISCUSS COVENANT EXPECTATIONS.
Nathan looked toward the projected stained glass.
“Do you want to marry?” he asked.
Helena felt her band tighten.
“I did once.”
“So did I.”
“You made another choice.”
“Yes.”
The answer came without defense.
“Why did you stop writing?”
“I was instructed to discontinue the association.”
“You could have told me.”
“No.”
“You managed to tell me that our plans were impractical.”
“That was the message they approved.”
“Did you believe it?”
Nathan looked at the Bible.
“Belief was not part of the approval process.”
Helena studied him.
“Why are you here?”
“For the same reason you are.”
“Attendance is mandatory.”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No,” he said. “It isn’t.”
The table changed.
DISCUSSION PROMPT TWO
IDENTIFY THE QUALITIES YOU MOST VALUE IN A COVENANT PARTNER.
Neither answered.
Nathan glanced at her wrist.
“Your response times have changed.”
Helena’s hand closed around the band.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you take longer to answer questions than you used to.”
“How would you know?”
Nathan said nothing.
“You saw my Affirmation record.”
“I did not say that.”
“You work for Civic Integration.”
“Yes.”
“On the compliance system?”
“Parts of it.”
“What parts?”
“Error correction.”
Helena thought of Mara’s white band.
“What kind of errors?”
“The kind that become facts when enough offices repeat them.”
The table flashed yellow.
UNPRODUCTIVE SILENCE DETECTED.
Nathan leaned forward.
“The system does not make every decision attributed to it.”
“Did it select you?”
“It calculated the compatibility score.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
“Did you request this match?”
Before Nathan could answer, the door opened.
The attendant stepped inside.
“The initial conversation period is complete. Physiological compatibility meets the minimum standard.”
A new message appeared on the table.
LIMITED CONTACT AUTHORIZED
DURATION: TEN SECONDS
The attendant gestured toward the center of the table.
Nathan extended his hand.
Helena looked at it.
“Contact is voluntary,” the attendant said. “Declining will be included in the assessment.”
Helena placed her hand in Nathan’s.
Their bands vibrated simultaneously.
BIOMETRIC SYNCHRONIZATION IN PROGRESS.
10
Nathan pressed his thumb twice against her palm.
9
He paused.
8
Then pressed once more.
Helena looked into his eyes.
When they were young, the pattern had meant I’m still here. They had invented it during school assemblies, when speaking would have earned correction.
7
Nathan’s face revealed nothing.
6
Helena returned the signal.
Twice.
A pause.
Once.
5
His hand tightened almost imperceptibly.
4
3
2
1
CONTACT COMPLETE.
Nathan released her.
The attendant smiled.
“Thank you. Candidate Reed will leave first. Helena will remain for her domestic guidance.”
Nathan stood.
“Peace be with you,” he said.
“And with you.”
He followed the attendant into the corridor.
The door closed.
Helena sat alone.
The table displayed the assessment.
PHYSIOLOGICAL COMPATIBILITY: CONFIRMED
DOCTRINAL COMPATIBILITY: ACCEPTABLE
PRIOR ASSOCIATION: FAVORABLE
COVENANT COMPATIBILITY: 94.7%
Another line appeared.
MALE CANDIDATE CONSENT: RECORDED
Helena stared at it.
Nathan had already accepted.
Or someone had accepted for him.
The final instruction filled the table.
FEMALE CANDIDATE RESPONSE REQUIRED WITHIN 72 HOURS.
FAILURE TO RESPOND WILL INITIATE PASTORAL REVIEW.
The letters vanished.
For less than a second, another message appeared beneath them.
DO NOT TRUST THE WHITE BANDS.
Then the table went dark.
Helena remained motionless.
She did not know whether Nathan had sent the message.
She did not know whether the government had placed it there to measure her response.
She was no longer certain that she had seen it at all.
Her wristband vibrated.
PLEASE EXIT THE COURTSHIP ROOM.
Helena stood.
The gold line appeared on the floor, showing her the way home.
Previous: The Witness — Chapter Five
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