2042 A.D.
Charity walked through the doors of the city’s community stadium with the rest of her Brothers and Sisters, head bowed gracefully as she peered at the people gathered within. The huge stadium was filled to bursting with sweaty, flush-faced people. The only visible ground belonged to the raised platform in the center of the room, kept clear in anticipation of the speakers and performers who would soon appear. It was the only oasis of calm in a desert of thirsty, eager youths. They pressed against the sides of the platform the same way Charity imagined people had pressed forward to see Christ when he hung on the cross… Filthy sinners.
Though the posters and fliers had advertised this religious event as the largest collection of Christians in ages, the number of true believers in attendance was shamefully low. Charity smiled serenely as she scrutinized the imposters. The Mutilators in the corner, showing off their grotesque body-adornments – tattoos and piercings and more. Most of them depicted religious symbols. Crosses and angels and the like. But it was all a despicable mockery of the True Faith.
Huddling on the edges of the mob were the Friends of Sinners, those fiends who had the nerve to invite nonbelievers along with them – people who didn’t even have the desire to know Christ. You could always pick them out in a second; the Friends would have stretched, obviously false grins on their faces as they tried to reassure the sullen, lost-looking souls standing next to them. For consorting with the damned, they too will be damned.
Then there were the Desperate, spread throughout the crowd like ants at a picnic. Haunted expressions, pale skin, more often than not bruising or some other sign of abuse. Many of them had the ghosts of drugs and addictions about them, their fingers trembling and they looked around with naïve hope. Charity even saw some of the very worst kind of young sinners; the ones who were pregnant out of wedlock. Whatever situation they were in, it had driven them here. They thought they’d be saved from the trouble that they’d no doubt brought upon themselves. They thought they’d be going to Heaven if they tried to repent long after it was too late for them…
Well, Charity knew better. There wasn’t room for everyone in Heaven, and they didn’t deserve it. They weren’t Pure.
The Pure were represented at the event, too, in small groups of Brothers and Sisters like the one Charity walked with. They drifted through the crowd, untouched by the corruption that plagued those around them, identifiable by the pristine white garments they wore. The girls were without makeup, and their hair was tied back tightly. The groups nodded at each other in passing, then moved on to their true purpose at the event. Not for ‘fellowship’ and ‘encouragement’ as the fliers for the event had boasted, but to ensure their own place in the Kingdom. To make sure that those who did not deserve a place did not get a place.
To make them doubt.
As previously agreed, the large groups of Pure split off into smaller arrangements of two or three people, and they began moving around the crowd, speaking to the false believers. Charity – who had already been Assured a place in Heaven – had been placed with two Questionables, who could still lose their Purity if they weren’t careful. Charity had been ordered – no, not ordered, asked – to show them how it was done. How to put the unworthy in their place. How to get them to see how hopeless it was for them to think they could ever get into Paradise.
For now, the Questionables weren’t allowed to voice any opinions they may have had, so it was up to Charity to do all of the talking. Which was fine with her. She led the Questionables through the crowd, smiling softly. Learning how to smile so that it looked natural was one of the first things taught to those who were born Pure, but it was still difficult to master. Charity found herself reminding the blue-eyed Questionable again and again that a smile should be gentle, but radiant, transmitting the light from within. It wasn’t simply an uplifting of the corners of the mouth.
Every so often, when Charity spotted a sinner who looked relatively at ease, they would go over to converse with them. Starting out casually, they’d exchange pleasantries, talking about easy things, like how hot the stadium was, and what bands and speakers they were excited for, and whether they lived in the area or had taken the Skye-Bus. Then, once the sinner in question seemed to be ready to open up, Charity would begin the examination, looking them up and down and maybe commenting on a thing that looked somewhat inappropriate.
“Oh,” she said once, looking at a pin that one Desperate wore. “So you like that band? Squalid Hotels?”
“Yeah!” The girl’s face had brightened, and Charity had listened politely as she gushed. “They’re one of my favorites! I mean, I liked them better before they switched lead singers, but, you know, Connor Terris got mixed up in that whole drug thing, and then with the trial and stuff… I don’t know, I guess the new guy’s not bad, but I totally love their old CD better. Not the first one, but the one with that song - um…” She’d hummed a few lines, muttering. “What is it called, again? Dirty Needles? Something like that? You know what one I’m talking about?”
“Sorry, I don’t actually listen to them,” Charity had replied apologetically. “I mean, no offense, but they’re kind of…” She’d made a face, raising her eyebrows with a gentle laugh. “They’re just a little too… Vulgar, for me.”
“Oh…” The girl’s face had gone blank, and she’d begun to backpedal uncertainly, trying to cover up her mistake. “Well, yeah, I know, I mean they do swear kind of a lot… That’s, like, the only thing I don’t like about them… But, I mean, some of the lyrics aren’t that bad, if you really… think… about them…” Blood had rushed to her cheeks, and she’d looked down self-consciously. “I mean, I guess I could be listening to better stuff, but…”
“Oh, no, you should listen to what you want to listen to!” Charity had urged, touching the girl’s shoulder reassuringly. “I mean, I don’t like it, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t! Just… You know… Maybe leave their merchandise at home when you’re at a…” She’d winced and looked around before whispering conspiratorially, “A Christian event.”
“Yeah, I guess… Maybe you’re right,” the girl had said, suddenly looking worried. As Charity had moved away, she’d seen the girl peer around her and remove the pin, slipping it into her pocket. Good.
After that, Charity set her sights on a Friend – an excited teenage girl who seemed to have brought several people along with her. The Sinners exchanged hesitant glances with each other, looking uncomfortable as the Friend jabbered on animatedly, waving her hands in excitement. The Friend looked familiar somehow… But Charity couldn’t think of a way they would’ve talked before. Charity only talked to Pures, which this Friend was most definitely not. She had dyed the hair on one side of her head a garish silver that sparkled in the light from the banks of spotlights overhead. She had a tattoo of flowers, vines, and words crawling its way up one bare arm, and the girl’s spaghetti-strap tank top was – to Charity – scandalous. The girl’s jeans were ripped in the knees, and Charity didn’t know how anyone – sinner or not – could even think of wearing something like that to a church event. This girl was a sinner, and she’d brought other sinners into the mix. They were not Pure. And it was time they learned that.
Charity and the Questionables made their way through the crowd, toward their targets, and the Sinners seemed to recognize that they were being targeted. Their eyes widened slightly when they caught sight of the three figures in white headed toward them, and they edged away slightly, speaking in low voices. Then the Friend got wind of what was going on, and she whirled around to face the Pure as they approached, eyes narrowing.
“Back off, Hippos,” she growled. Charity’s serene smile stretched a little wider than normal.
“Excuse me?” she asked, tone still polite. “I don’t-”
“Hippos,” the Friend said again, completely serious. “Not the African animal, genius. H-Y-P-O, as in ‘Hypocrites’. I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”
Charity laughed slightly, even as her insides burned up with rage. How dare she call me a hypocrite. She’s the one who’s going to Hell. “I think you must have me mistaken with someone else… I don’t think we’ve met, have we?”
“Sure we have, not that it matters,” the Friend said flatly. “I can tell what you are just by looking at that dumb outfit you have on. You told me once that you hated wearing white, Charity. You said it made you feel like Frosty the Snowman.” All of a sudden, recognition struck, and Charity’s serene mask slipped out of place.
“Hope?”
“Oh, so you do remember me!” Hope snorted, brushing a strand of silver hair out of her eyes. “But I guess you forgot that you were going to come visit me sometime after I moved out to Ferrel, huh?”
“I was going to-” Charity began, then stopped herself. Don’t make excuses. You sound too desperate for her approval. She took a small breath and reacquired her gentle, calm expression from before. When she was sure she’d recovered from her shock, she continued. “I was going to visit you, but that was before I found out how bad Ferrel is. There are no Pure there, Hope. None. I couldn’t believe that your parents moved you out there. They always seemed so good… Even if I had still wanted to come, my parents never would have let me. They didn’t want me to be corrupted.”
“Corrupted?” Hope raised an eyebrow. “And why exactly is that more likely in Ferrel than in Paxville?”
“Hope, have you looked at yourself?” Charity creased her face with concern, letting her former Sister know how much she pitied her. “I’m sorry, but I think that you’ve fallen away…” Hope’s sinner friends looked at each other uncomfortably, and a few of them scowled at the ground, not meeting the eyes of the Charity or the Questionables.
Hope laughed, bringing back memories of shared slumber parties and Purity lessons. Charity ached for the past. “Fallen away? Have you listened to yourself, Chare? Look, when I got to Farrel, everything was different. There were no Purity lessons, no Brothers and Sisters watching my every move… And I realized something. A lot of the kids were a whole lot purer than I was, and they knew it.”
“What are you talking about?” Charity laughed, looking Hope’s Sinners up and down skeptically. “If these are the kids you’re talking about, then I find it hard to believe…” Their faces tightened, and one girl folded her arms across herself, biting her lip.
“Don’t you dare start that, Charity,” Hope said in a low voice. She glanced at her friends. “You guys okay here for a second? I’ll be right back.” They nodded uncertainly, and without saying anything else Hope grabbed Charity’s shoulder and dragged her to the side, against her protests. “Unless you want those Questionables to know all our old secrets, tell ‘em to buzz off, Chare.” Charity hesitated, then told the Questionables to go wait for her by the concessions table.
“What’s gotten into you?” Charity frowned, sincerely disturbed by the change in her former friend’s demeanor. “Did something happen to you in Ferrel, Hope? I can’t believe that this could just… happen. Do you want me to pray for the Lord to ease your suffering in Hell?”
“Oh… Cheeselogs.” Hope sighed and rubbed her forehead wearily. “Drop the act, Charity. You seriously think you’re going to try this on me?” Charity didn’t answer, but she was all too aware of Hope’s Sinner friends standing in eyesight, craning their necks to keep sight of the two girls over the rest of the crowd. Hope looked her right in the eyes, staring at her evenly. Charity stared back, eyes vacant as she kept all her emotions locked securely inside. “Yes, Charity. Something happened to me in Ferrel. What happened was, I realized how much I hated everything we’d been doing.”
“We weren’t doing anything-”
“Yes, Charity. We were.” Her eyes hardened. “Going around our school, telling everybody they weren’t Pure enough to get into Heaven, and they never would be, then going off with our older Brothers and Sisters and drinking and smoking and all that other stuff? Convincing Jessie Taylors that she couldn’t be a Christian because she had that dinky little tattoo on her shoulder and then going to get those stupid, little, red heart tats on our stomachs when we both turned sixteen? Camping out in my bedroom listening to those CDs of all those bands we weren’t allowed to hear?” She took a deep breath and looked down at her scuffed up shoes. Charity’s gaze dropped to the tattoo on her arm and read the words. After a moment, she realized they were from a bible verse. She didn’t know which one.
She didn’t read the bible much.
“Charity, did we even have any idea who Jesus was?” Hope asked, almost as if she’d read Charity’s thoughts. “Did we ever really pray? Did we have any idea who God was?” Charity didn’t answer. A second later, she realized that her smile had slipped away again, and she was wearing an irritated frown in its stead. On the platform in the center of the room, the first speaker appeared, launching into the welcome speech and thanking them all for coming to celebrate God’s works and to be with their fellow believers.
“Something did happen in Ferrel, Charity,” Hope said. “I accepted Jesus into my heart, for the first time ever. I admitted that I had sin, and when I asked Him to, He swept it away. He made me Pure. For real.” She moved away from Charity, backing towards her friends. “There’s room for everybody in Heaven. And nobody is born Pure.”
Charity watched her go, thoughts whispering through her brain, until she saw Hope rejoin her Sinner friends. She said something, and they laughed, looking reassured. Charity lost sight of them as the whole crowd erupted into cheers. Up on the platform, the first band had appeared.
They were the type that the Pure usually looked down on. Wild hairstyles dyed in bright, unnatural colors, skin covered with tattoos and piercings, the lead singer sobbing and screaming, sending chills down Charity’s spine. The crowd pressed closer to the stage, exalting in the music and the One it was meant to honor. As the band launched into the chorus, a few strands of decipherable song made their way to Charity’s ears. The music spoke of Jesus’ sacrifice, and the place he’d prepared in Heaven for anyone willing to ask for it. Charity’s spotless white clothes stuck to her skin, soiled with her perspiration. She was dirty. Filthy. Just as filthy as the manic fans around her were.
The Questionables were nowhere in sight. They’d disappeared, probably to slip into another group of the Pure. Charity was alone. Without other white-draped Brothers and Sisters standing behind her, she felt… She felt…
The first song ended, and as the intro for the next song began, the female lead singer took the mike, commenting on how the stadium owners needed to turn up the AC, and how the crowd was the best she’d ever seen.
And how she praised God for bringing them all together.
The next song began, and it sounded vaguely familiar. It was topping the charts on the Christian radio stations, Charity remembered, and the well-known melody sent those gathered in the stadium into a new frenzy. Mouths stretched open wide as people sang along with one voice, praising God in whatever way they knew how.
Charity began to hum along slightly, even though all the Pures had been told that they were not to be caught up in the horrific spectacle most modern concerts became. They were supposed to stand at the sides and wait calmly until the songs ended and they had a chance to speak to the false believers.
Were they all false? Were all of the Pure false? After speaking to Hope… Charity felt as if everything she knew had been flipped inside out. She no longer knew what was true. She vowed to find out, somehow…
And for the moment, she began to sing along to the words she knew, and hum to the ones she didn’t. When the crowd around her began to jump up and down, again and again, shaking the walls as they all landed at the same time, she joined in. She felt the bass in her chest and the lyrics in her heart. She stretched her arms up toward the sky, along with all those around her, and waved them back and forth. For the moment, she forgot about the groups of Pure standing on the sidelines, watching on disapprovingly. For the moment, she forgot about that sense of urgency that had always been forced upon her – the need to secure that place in Heaven before there were no places left. For the moment, she even forgot about Hope and all that she’d said.
Charity would think about it later, and she would try to sort out what was right. She would pray for God’s help as she did so. But for the moment, she let the music carry her, along with all the people around her. For the moment, she sang, letting thoughts and hard questions escape her mind.
For the moment, she let herself be swept away.
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