They wouldn’t send real Americans away to be stored. Radical Muslims, sure. Illegal immigrants, yeah. Maybe welfare queens. But not just…regular Americans.
That’s what Judy had nervously told herself for that entire six weeks, between the day she was first called in for questioning and the day when she was, in fact, sent to one of the country’s resident storage facilities.
She was young and stupid when she took those pictures. Since then, she had turned her life around. She was born again and regretted the things she had done when she was lost. She was no longer that woman.
But in President Pence’s America, that didn’t matter. Pictures “of an inappropriate nature” like hers meant she was a defective citizen. A friend found the pictures somewhere and submitted a complaint…because of course they did. Everybody did that. If the situation were reversed, she would have done the same.
Defective Americans went to storage centers, where they could be stored away from society–and, most importantly, where they could be used for free labor. Because hard labor was the one sacred thing which made America better than any other country in the world.
The customer service representative whose job it was to interrogate her grinned when he saw the printouts of her photos. “You should’ve known better,” he admonished her, the grin still in his voice. “Don’t worry, ma’am. The place I’m sending you is a great deal, and you’ll only have to stay for four years…”
***
She remembered how she wanted to scream at her neighbors: “I’m not a bad person! I’m just like you! I voted for Trump and Pence too!” But she was suddenly on the other side of the fence, and they didn’t really want to talk to her or look her in the eye.
How she had wished back then that they would see her side of the story. Now it was four and a half years later, and she didn’t care anymore. She was tired. This was her old neighborhood, but it didn’t feel like home. She limped slowly up the sidewalk to her house. There was a child she didn’t know playing in the driveway. His mother stood nearby, watching.
The house had been confiscated and sold while Judy was locked up. The walls had been newly painted a bright pink, and a magnolia tree had been planted by the front steps. There was another, smaller house being constructed in what once was the backyard.
The mother finally noticed Judy and started walking towards her. “Can I help you?” Her question was made softer by her accent.
“I used to live in this house,” Judy said.
The woman’s face hardened. “We don’t want any problems. We bought this house all legal.”
“Right. I know. I was in a center.”
The woman shrugged. “So was my brother.” She picked up her child and went inside, locking the door behind her.
***
A couple days before, Judy had gone to see Mr. Rodriguez, an attorney who was working with storage center survivors. Just a few years ago, she would have viewed him with suspicion–was he in the country legally? Now she only wondered if he could help her.
Mr. Rodriguez shook his head sympathetically. “It’s going to be very difficult to get any compensation for you. It’s pretty obvious from your online record that you were an avid supporter of the Pence regime in its early years.”
She fidgeted with her paperwork. “Well, I believed him when he said he would bring back the jobs and all that.”
The lawyer sighed. “I don’t want to get your hopes up. The new government has focused on specific groups of Americans which were harshly targeted by the Pence administration. It will be hard to make a case for you. I will file an application…but I doubt you will get any results.”
She did not argue, as something in her sensed he was already being kinder to her than he needed to be. She picked up her papers and stood up to go.
But she felt a twinge of desperation and bent down to him again.
“You had friends in…the resistance? Yes?” she whispered.
“If I did, what makes you think I would tell you who they are?”
***
Her nephew, Nick, lived at his mother’s place, in a suburb on what used to be Judy’s side of town. Their last conversation before they fell out of touch was on Facebook, and it had ended with Judy mocking him for being a “snowflake.” He had been whining about his gender identity or some such nonsense.
She thought about all of that again on the long bus ride to see him. She hadn’t called or texted him about her visit. What if he didn’t want to talk to her at all?
But Nick gave her his usual quiet, easy going nod when he opened the door. “Hi. Mom isn’t here right now.”
“That’s okay. How are you doing?”
He let her in. He was still very pale and very skinny. Maybe a little skinnier.
“I’m fine.” He perched on the side of the sofa. “I should be asking you how you are. Mom said you got locked up.”
“Yes. They let me out not too long ago.”
“That’s rough. I was arrested a few times. I never went to a center, though. I guess I didn’t have much they wanted to take.” He chuckled. “Was it bad?”
“It was…” She found that even after all this time she didn’t want to talk about or think about what it was like. The house–that was what she wanted to think about. Her house.
Nick’s dark eyes squinted a bit. “Do you still believe the people in the centers brought it on themselves?”
“No, no. I was wrong, and I understand that.” She was lying. It had all been a mistake with her. She only took a couple of pictures. She wasn’t like those types who protested every week–she never blocked traffic or burned anything. And she wasn’t a terrorist.
“We should put it all behind us, anyway. I’ve forgiven you for what you said about me,” Nick announced. So full of himself, she thought. “You’ve always been my favorite aunt.”
She hesitantly accepted a hug from him.
“If you need any help…Mom sometimes gets extra stuff from the church pantry.”
She tried not to sound too eager. “Thanks. So, there’s that group of anarchists…they’re liberating homes, is what they call it…”
“No worries. I don’t hang out with them anymore.”
“I actually wanted to meet with them.”
“Wow.” Nick raised an eyebrow. “Not a good idea. They would hate you.”
Her face flushed with anger. “Why? Is this because of how I voted again? Most of America voted that way–deal with it.”
“But you realize you hurt yourself with your vote, right?”
“Not true. President Pence wanted to help the country. The bureaucrats are the ones who came up with the centers and they made it all spin out of control. It wasn’t his fault.” She realized her voice had become shrill.
“I sense some unresolved guilt there in your response…”
God, how she hated it when the millennials went into their psychobabble. Next, he’d want to talk to her about her self-esteem.
“I’m not guilty of anything,” she snapped. “I’m one of God’s children, and He has washed my sins away.” She turned and left before he could say anything else to her.
***
It was on the way back, the ride to her tiny rented room, that it hit her hard. She would never get her house back. It was so unfair. All because of one mistake she made. One little mistake!
And, for the life of her, she would never figure out what that one mistake was.
07/29/2017 at 2:00 pm
And that’s how it could happen. The judys of the world will never realize what they brought about.
07/29/2017 at 3:08 pm
Yep. And it’s that gradual slide into things. Pence really, really scares me. And thanks sooooo much for reblogging…I put a bit of work into this one 🙂
07/29/2017 at 3:14 pm
It’s a really great piece.
07/29/2017 at 3:34 pm
If I wasn’t pathetic and knew how to put in a heart emoticon, I would 😉
07/29/2017 at 3:46 pm
I can’t do it either!
07/29/2017 at 8:36 pm
Glad I’m not the only one!
07/29/2017 at 2:01 pm
Reblogged this on Praying for Eyebrowz and commented:
Too real and very scary! Read more at eurobrat.wordpress.com.
07/29/2017 at 6:08 pm
Okay, you got me. What were the photos Judy took?
Excellent piece.
07/29/2017 at 8:35 pm
Thank you! I thought most likely they were sexually explicit stuff. Something a President Pence would not approve of.
08/19/2017 at 10:51 am
The picture was of Judy and a married man standing alone in her office hallway…unchaperoned!!!
Do you know what kind of trouble that helpless man could get into??? So it’s “Off to camp with her!”
08/19/2017 at 6:09 pm
Well, yes. This is the Pence presidency we’re talking about, after all.
08/13/2017 at 1:48 pm
Hey, that’s some great (mildly) speculative (semi) fiction!
Pictures “of an inappropriate nature” like hers meant she was a defective citizen. A friend found the pictures somewhere and submitted a complaint…because of course they did. Everybody did that. If the situation were reversed, she would have done the same.
Yup. No matter how many tattoos & piercings folks get to feign toughness, an anti-establishment attitude, or just to conform to current fashion, we’re all a bunch jack-boot-licking sissies. We’re so eager to please the Master-of-the-month, we’ll turn on our own Grandmothers. And if that Master is replaced, we’ll just as quickly replace our attitudes to conform to the new Master’s.
For several reasons, this story does not bode well for the future. For one, It’s astounding how many pictures of a potentially “inappropriate nature” are taken every single day by millions of imbeciles who are still oblivious to the fact that:
1) NOTHING on the Web-pipes ever really goes away. Just web-search “Flash Mountain”. Some 20 years after those photos were taken and 15-ish years after the website was taken down, those “inappropriate pictures” of momentary lacks of self-restraint (aka “innocent fun”) are still easily available. This despite some seriously hard work on Disney’s part. https://web.archive.org/web/20000918213331/home.europa.com/~cabelsa/flash/
2) Even the pictures you think are private and didn’t post/share…aren’t. Anything on a networked device, even many things that have been “deleted”, are obtainable with a modicum of hacking skill. Better yet, if they’re on your stupid-phone and you’ve downloaded a dozen apps, odds are excellent the Terms & Conditions “contract” you “signed” allows them to make copies (and much more). All “perfectly legal”.
3) The evidence lasts forever, but social mores can turn on a dime. Just ask any darkie, fudge-packer, or monthly bleeder. (My sincerest apologies to anyone reading this comment post-1980’s…or pre-2020. Otherwise, no apologies necessary.) Today’s “hardworking gardener” is tomorrow’s “rapist”. The point is, your long-since-passed transgression can now be punished retroactively as a Thought Crime today. Even if you did it decades ago and it was completely acceptable at the time you did it.
In this digital dystopia/surveillance state we all live in…every word, thought & deed in your entire life is being recorded by somebody somewhere. And someday, it could be used against you by anyone with any motivation (even just boredom)….for the rest of your existence. Piss off the wrong person, or just get on the wrong person’s radar by accident, and you might find yourself the next public punching bag. Or, even better, “sent to camp”.
The fact that the very people turning you in, or even prosecuting you, did the EXACT same thing, maybe even on the same day as you….is completely irrelevant. So to is your loyalty. Because everyone today is considered a “suspect”, “possible traitor”, or simply a “plaything”. There is no safety. There are no such things as “facts”. Everything can be spun. And all that matters is that you’re not the Victim du Jour.
Poor Judy doesn’t understand what happened to her, or why. She thought she was protected by the safety of the herd. So, how could she ever understand her role in her own downfall? Especially when the new regime also blames her for what she did and isn’t eager to set things right. They have their own offenders to punish.
08/14/2017 at 11:31 am
Damn the irony!
I post a link to prove a point that things are forever on the Inter-web…and the next day the link stops working right! Oh, well. Here’s another link to those (Not Quite Safe For Work) photos in an attempt to prove how easy they still are to find 20-ish years later.
https://theconnect860.blogspot.co.id/2009/12/inside-connect-nsfw-disney-exxxposed.html
Well, let’s hope that works. Otherwise, my point is shot.
08/14/2017 at 5:59 pm
Your point still stands. As always, I can see the irony of agreeing with your comment and yet still leaving a record of my thoughts online in the form of my blog. However, I also don’t really think it will make much of a difference in the end….once we get to that place and they decide they want to get me for something, they’ll find some reason anyway. Might as well keep writing!
08/16/2017 at 11:22 am
By all means, keep writing! I’m sure you’ve already written enough to get you rounded up come Mobilization Day anyway.
Besides, the way things are headed, in 10-15 years most people under 50 won’t even be able to understand the concept of communicating in written sentences. If you communicate something more intellectually demanding than a picture of your lunch, or hieroglyphs of purple eggplants and piles of shit, few will have any clue what you’re talking about. You might as well be using wing-dings, or ASCII (aka ass-key).
If you make it safely through the next decade, the odds of some ordinary fuckwad making you pay for something you wrote is pretty slim. The only thing you’ll have to worry about from writing down your seditious thoughts (aka having thoughts at all) is that the Secret Police will pick you up in the middle of the night and “take you to camp”.
08/19/2017 at 6:09 pm
Ha! Someday I will fondly think “My life was saved by illiteracy!”
08/16/2017 at 1:25 am
Would it be OK if I cross-posted this article to WriterBeat.com? There is no fee; I’m simply trying to add morte content diversity for our community and I enjoyed reading your work. I’ll be sure to give you complete credit as the author. If “OK” please let me know via email.
Autumn
AutumnCote@WriterBeat.com
09/04/2017 at 12:43 pm
Beautifully written! You handled the topic with skill.
09/05/2017 at 8:34 pm
Thank you so much! And thank you for reblogging–much appreciated 🙂
09/05/2017 at 8:37 pm
My pleasure!
09/04/2017 at 12:45 pm
Reblogged this on Art by Rob Goldstein and commented:
from eurobrat
09/04/2017 at 2:15 pm
[…] Source: Judy’s Sin […]