Eternity Can Wait: A Novel

By Anna Denysovna

THE PLANET THERA is so severly overpopulatd the World Coalition Government has decreed that the older generation must accept voluntary euthanasia at the purpose-built eternity clinics.

They suggest those past childbearing age be the ones to make the supreme sacrifice in favour of the younger generation. Every person is issued with a Death Order, but the time and the selection of clinic is left to the individuals own choice and discretionwithin reason. Special eternity trains are provided to carry each citizen to their final destination where clinic staff will assist them to obtain everlasting sleep. Once the ticket to eternity has been issued, there is no going back. Nobody seems to know what happens to the body.

JOHN MASON JUNIOR was eight years old when he accessed Theras governmental database, Central Archives, and discovers the Death Order issued to his name when he was just six weeks old. His dream from then on is to establish a new society on Thera where every person can live out their life with dignity and without the Damoclean sword of the Death Order hanging over their collective heads.

When he reaches his legal majority at the age of twelve, Junior begins a systematic but passive resistance to the Death Order culture. He challenges the government and meets them on their own ground.

He also balks the Class Distinctions Law that separates the executive from the worker.

Worker-born Jorig Przewalski becomes Juniors greatest friend and ally in his resistance of the restrictive laws that are choking the freedom of the people.

John Mason Junior is a man with a vision and the will to make it happen.

This is the first book in a two-volume story, which begins with Eternity Can Wait and concludes in The Death Trains of Thera.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Aug 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477222270

Anna Denysovna

“I’m a sixty four year old recycled teenager with a passion for writing, a zest for living and the most magnificent set of invisible teeth you have ever seen in your whole life!” “Yes, I’m 84% disabled, and in a wheelchair that I have named: ‘El Butelbumtrinkét’. But I don’t consider it a drawback to living! It certainly allows me to live my life to the full!” Hobbies include my two cats Mitchkin and Misha, as well as painting, graphic art, illustrating and photography. And, of course, writing science fiction. I was born in 1948 in Southern Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) in the city of Bulawayo. I was raised and educated in Bristol, UK, and moved to the Balearic Islands in 1965 where I started working as a proof reader and journalist for the Majorca Daily Bulletin. In 1982 I was back in Bristol and working as a journalist and correspondent for the South Bristol Observer. But that came to an 340 end when my family decided we were moving to London. Life has never been the same again. Since then I have freelanced and have had several articles published as well as short stories such as “The Ghostly Goat” written for the African field and aimed at children aged from 12 to 15. It became such a raging success that Otilia, the head librarian at Bulawayo library, told me that children were coming in every day for almost a year afterwards to ask for photocopies of that printed story! It was published in the Bulawayo Sunday News in 1999. “ETERNITY CAN WAIT” is the first novel in a set of eight books that I call “The Chronicles of Thera”. The story of John Mason Junior and his fight against the Death Order continues in the sequel “The Death Trains of Thera”.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

John Mason Junior died in 3503 at the ripe old age of 138.

The Porter opened the carriage door to check if anyone was aboard the Eternity Train. There was. It looked as if John Junior with his unmistakeable multicoloured scarf around his old neck had decided to follow the WCG ‘Death Order’ law on the last Eternity Train that would ever run. The old man was slouched in one corner by the window deeply asleep. The Porter decided to leave him to finish his rest in peace.

When the train had completed its assigned circuit three times without John Junior leaving the carriage, the Porter decided enough was enough.

He entered the carriage and shook Junior’s shoulder gently. When there was no response he shook a little harder. John Junior obligingly slid to an awkward heap on the carriage floor. Rigor mortis had already started to set in.

Panic coloured the Porter’s responses, until he remembered that this was the last of the Eternity Trains that would ever run and Junior was the final passenger, the last citizen of Thera to come aboard. It was obvious the old Resistance leader had decided to make a protest against the WCG’s Death Order policy one last time and die of old age rather than end his life by going through the Silver Door. The Porter took the old multicoloured scarf and wondered if there was anyone who would like to have it.

Then he called the Guardians and informed them of what had happened.

That’s typical of Junior said the Guardian. He rebelled against the Death Order law, and argued that if the WCG recognised the rights of their citizens to choose for them selves when and how to die they also had to include the right to die a natural death from old age. Well it really doesn’t matter, now. After this day is finished we’ll all be free from the threat of the Trains and their Clinics thanks to him.

They buried Junior in a fallow field of Food Cultivation Zone 23, where his remains would eventually contribute to enriching the soil where future foods would be grown.

It was poetic justice, even on the planet Thera in 3503.

CHAPTER ONE

The computer beeped a signal that told John Mason he had an official message.

He looked up from the cradle where his son lay burbling contentedly and heaved a sigh. He already knew it was about the six week old baby.

John retrieved the letter with its official stamp from the inbox of his e-mail, printed it and took it to his wife, Cindy, who was busy preparing their Scotch Broth flavour Vitadrink for supper. Oh no! It’s too soon! Cindy had cause to be upset.

Usually the authorities waited a year before issuing the Death Order. But it seemed that things were now becoming critical. Their master plan to control the rise in population had failed miserably over the last twenty decades even though they had decreed one child per family as long as there were no recessive genes in the family line. In which case sterilization procedures were enforced.

In 3365 there was very little habitable space left on planet Thera, a one-time earth colony in the Centauri system. The World Coalition Government had decreed that Thera’s citizens could no longer be allowed to live out their natural life span. However the WCG recognised the right of every individual to choose their own fate.

Each person was issued a letter recognising the need to take drastic measures in drastic circumstances. The State decreed that they would not make the choice for their citizens, but that their citizens must choose a time to die, long before it could happen naturally, suggesting those past childbearing age as a guideline.

They appealed to their honour and dignity as humans to sacrifice themselves in favour of a younger generation; to set the example for the youth by their courageous obedience. It smacked very much of the old format: ‘your planet needs YOU!’ The ideal of sacrificing one’s own life in behalf of another was nothing new, but the nobility of the sacrifice appealed to the best in people.

This was emotional manipulation at its finest. It left no room for doubts. The good citizen, the obedient citizen that accepted without question the need for such a noble sacrifice was considered a true hero. Their family members making it a reason for celebration because their loved one was willingly giving up their life in exchange for another persons’. A life for a life, one died so another might live; a Noble Cause indeed.

Every citizen would take the letter with their name and microchip I.D. number, go to a specifically designated station and ask for a ticket to Eternity, where they received the silver metallic ticket that allowed them to board the next available Eternity Train. Once on board the person could only leave it at a station that facilitated their death. The choice of which station they would die at was left to the passenger. These stations were officially called Eternity Clinics.

However the general public often referred to the transport as ‘Death Trains’. These were painted light silver with the word ‘Eternity’ in gold and red on every carriage. They were bullet shaped monorail maglev works of art with every comfort provided for those accepting voluntary euthanasia.

These were especially designed Trains. They didn’t carry ordinary passengers, only those who felt their time had come and were ready to end their existence for whatever reason. The Trains themselves had plush interiors lined with red velvet. The WCG wanted their older citizens to have every care and consideration on their final journey out of life.

Once the silver ticket had been issued the passenger would only be allowed to leave the Train at the specially equipped Clinics built for this purpose and the Train Porter would ensure that they leave the Train at the Clinic of their choice. He used a special implement designated a Neutral Key to open and close the door which gave entry and exit on the Train. The Porter would make sure that anyone boarding did not leave until they arrived at the Clinic of their choice. There the citizen pushed their ticket into a purpose built slot which allowed the door to open and let him, or her, enter.

The Train did not leave until the person had entered through the Silver door which was also painted with the word ‘Eternity’ in red and gold.

There was no turning back.

Nobody knew what happened after that.

Only children of 15 years or more used to get these letters, but the planet was so crowded and food so scarce that the Government was sending letters out to the parents of very young children, even babies.

John and Cindy were appalled. John Junior was barely six weeks old.

The new legislation gave parents the chance to rid themselves of unwanted children at any time they chose. Buy the child’s ticket, then hand it over to the train Porter with the child and walk away. The Porter would use his Neutral Key to open the Train door and which would allow him to return to his work after the child was delivered to any of the Clinics along the line. End of another young life.

It was no longer a matter of allowing healthy, intelligent and strong children to live their first fifteen years without threat of interference.

There was so much food shortage because of the overpopulation that the Government decided some space had to be kept for crop cultivation and a little animal husbandry. However, it surprised John and Cindy just how successful the small spaces set aside for food production had become. There was enough food for each person to have one full meal and two Vitadrinks a day. That achievement was considered a small victory by the World rulers.

Each household was issued with a set of Food coupons every month sent to their email address. These had to be printed out, separated and handed in to the local collection depot where they could fetch the vacuum packed meal of meat and vegetables as well as the Vitadrinks allowed for each member of the family per day.

John sighed and took the letter out of Cindy’s hands. I’ll put this in the family file he said. Cindy nodded her agreement, but not before John had seen her tears of distress. He drew her close putting his arms around her to comfort and to reassure her. John Junior is not going to be sacrificed until he’s good and ready to make up his own mind he said.

The baby had been born healthy and whole. He’d come into the world screaming and protesting the cavalier treatment he received, which amused the midwife. This one’ll be a fighter she said. Then she inserted his microchip I.D. just under the right shoulder blade where it would not be easy to remove.

Now, they’d received the Death Order in John Juniors’ name.

Already the long arm of the law was touching his newly begun life.

Cindy’s own parents had taken the ride to Eternity together. Her mother had been 45 years old at the time, just past the average child bearing age, and her father was 49. They’d come to say their farewells and tell John and Cindy of their decision. That was the last time Cindy ever saw her parents. John Junior would know them only in holo-images.

It’s not right she thought. It’s just not right.

They decided to not tell Junior about the letter until he was at least twelve years old. General Schooling was a thing of the past and there was little or no danger of him finding out from anyone else. A long time ago the WCG had done away with the school systems, putting the parents under obligation to teach their own children the school curriculum at home. This suited John and Cindy.

It allowed them to watch over their son and see that he was not put under unnecessary stress or worry during his early formative years. They made life as pleasant as they could for him and Junior seemed to be contented with his lot, even happy.

They were assigned a weekly play group for John Junior and Cindy would take him to spend some time playing with others of his own age. It began with babies between six to twelve months, and progressed until Junior was five. After that Junior would be schooled at home, and would meet children of the same age by arrangement with other parents in the Residential Section where they lived.

Cindy spent time making little toys for Junior from any cloth scraps that she could find among the discarded clothing deposit in their apartment section. Residents were allowed to help themselves to any clothing that fitted or could be adjusted for reuse by someone else. They could also use clothing in other Residential Sections as long as they deposited something of their own in the same bin.

Cindy often found pieces of fairly good cloth that she was able to convert to jackets, trousers and other clothes for each of them. She had even found an old hand-knitted multi-coloured jersey that she unpicked and made into an outfit for John Junior. After she had cleaned the garments the colours looked bright and happy on him. They were his favourite outfit until they didn’t fit him anymore.

Then she unpicked the whole lot again and made him a jersey he could grow into.

Cindy silently thanked the old Grandma who gave her some tricot needles and who’d taught her the ancient art of knitting.

Cindy was shocked when she got the message from Edwin Mason, John’s father, telling them he had decided to accept the Death Order decree and his ticket to Eternity. His wife, Scintilla Edwards Mason, had told him she was not ready to accept the command of the government to end her existence. I’ve still got plenty of life in this body and as far as I’m concerned Eternity can wait! she told him in no uncertain terms. I’m not leaving Junior without knowing what it’s like to have a grandparent in his young life. When he decides to join you in eternity then so will I. So Edwin went alone.

Junior found his mother in their lounge space and was curious about her distress.

Why are you crying, Mommy?

Cindy looked up to see her five year old son looking at her curiously. He was always asking her things and pestering his father constantly to be taught something new, such as model making. John had begun teaching Junior origami using old pieces of paper that were set aside for recycling. Junior enjoyed making the paper figures.

Come and sit next to me, sweetheart, and I’ll explain she said patting the seat beside her.

As he sat down he looked at her with curiosity, just longing to be told something new. She smiled at him. It seemed that his thirst for knowledge was bottomless. Your Grandfather Mason has died. She said

Then, where did he go? The child had no concept of death and its permanence.

Well . . . Cindy paused, maybe now was the right time to begin getting him used to the idea. Well, when people are very, very old like Grandpa, they get on a special Train and they go away.

When do they come back? he asked.

They don’t. When they get on that Train they are gone forever.

Why?

Cindy had been afraid he would ask that universal question. Junior had been going through the why stage for quite some time and she wondered if he’d ever grow out of it.

Because, when a person gets really, really old they stop being alive and they die. She hoped it would be enough. Apparently not.

Where do people go when they die?

She hesitated for a few seconds, not sure if she should carry on with the conversation but Cindy decided she would never have a better opportunity.

They go to a place called Eternity she said.

Oh replied John Junior, okay!

Then he jumped down from the seat and went to continue his game.

After their evening Vitadrink was over and Junior was in bed asleep, Cindy told John what had happened that afternoon and the news of his fathers’ trip on the Eternity Train. John just nodded quietly and said his father had already warned him that morning, after John got to work. I assume he e-mailed the news to you, too he said.

Yes. She had tears in her eyes.

John put his arms around his wife and said it was normal to be upset by any death in the family, and Cindy did the right thing in telling Junior.

But why does it have to be so . . . . so unfeeling? she sobbed. Does anyone know what happens behind the door at the Clinics?

No. I don’t think so.

Do they suffer? Or are they injected and just drift off into a dreamless sleep? And what happens to the body?

Honey, nobody really knows for sure. But when anyone asks they are told their loved ones accepted ‘assisted everlasting sleep’.

What will your Mom do now? Cindy wanted to know.

John grinned at her. Mom’s an old battleaxe who’ll continue to fight the system quietly with all the resistance she can muster. Junior seems to have taken after her.

Cindy put her head on John’s shoulder. I hope so, she said I certainly hope so!

The next day at work, John asked if he could have a word with one of the division managers from the vegetable processing section. Ed Willis was a family friend and John had known Ed since childhood.

What’s on your mind, John? he asked.

We had notification yesterday that my Dad had decided to take his Ticket to Eternity. Ed nodded and put his hand on John’s shoulder in a gesture of compassion. It’s never easy to accept when the older ones finally decide to take that last journey he said but it’s something we all have to do, eventually. Death is not a nice thought, ever

It just seems so incomplete said John, As if there’s something missing, a chance to say goodbye for instance. He paused and looked at Ed. There’s no finality to it all.

"What do you mean by ‘no finality’? Asked Ed startled.

John looked at this friend of many years standing and decided to trust him.

In the olden days there was always a funeral where you could view the body and reconcile yourself to the loved one’s demise. You saw the proof of their death. The body was in a coffin being buried in the ground. Or cremated if that’s what they wanted. John worked hard to keep his feelings under control. You had proof positive of their death and you could close the book on their life. The End.

Ed nodded silently. He’d seen so many go through this type of withdrawal syndrome over the years. It was usual to grieve and right to do so. A person couldn’t go forward unless they left the past behind them.

But the emotional limbo everyone suffered because of the Death Order and the solitary demise of loved ones who have left without a chance to say goodbye wreaked havoc on the sensibilities of many. John Mason was no exception.

Ed gave John as much solace and comfort as he could, then went back to his office. There he contacted a local Guardian and filed a report about John’s emotional reaction. He suggested that John should be watched for a brief period in case there were any problems provoked by his upset.

The Guardian thanked him for his report, said the usual credit bonus would be added to his personal account and broke the connection.

They watched John Mason for six months but were satisfied that the Head exec of Section 18’s General Foods’ Processing Plant had reacted normally under the circumstances and they need not worry about him any longer.

Ed Willis retired the following year but there was no heir to succeed him so his job was given to another Executive.

Life in the Mason household continued its normal average existence for the next few years until 3377, when Junior reached the age of twelve. He had grown into a responsible and caring young man, mature beyond his years.

John and Cindy invited Grandma Mason to share the joy of Junior’s official coming of age on his twelfth advent day. Junior loved his grandmother and there seemed to be a special bond between them. She informed her grandson that he was now to refer to her as Tilly, not Grandma.

Tilly? asked Junior. Is that short for something?

Perceptive young man, aren’t you? she grinned at him. My full name is Scintilla Edwards Mason, but I prefer to be called Tilly, especially by my favourite grandson!

Junior rewarded her with a warm smile. Thank you Tilly. I’ll remember that. However I’d like to point out I’m the only grandson you have.

I like your cheek! Tilly said grinning at him.

The little family gathering was not a lavish affair. With so much food shortage it was impossible to have any sort of a party, but Cindy had carefully saved from the previous weeks’ food allowance just for this occasion.

John fetched the family file and was now facing Junior over the meal table. It is time to give you what we have kept safe for you since you were six weeks old he said.

Junior’s response startled everyone. He’d put his head back and was guffawing with unmitigated laughter. Are you talking about the Death Order that arrived with my name on it? he asked.

You know about it? his father asked, shocked.

Of course! said Junior. It’s the best known State secret. They always give access to any file as long as the correct person asks for it. I accessed my Government file four years ago.

Precocious brat! said Cindy, exasperated at her son’s attitude. Why didn’t you tell us you knew?

And spoil your party plans, Mom? He grinned cheekily at her.

She shrugged and smiled at him. "I’m sure there’s another gift you know nothing about, my boy!"

A gift? For me? She’d caught his attention. What is it?

Cindy went into their sleeping cubicle and returned with something wrapped in coloured paper, the best she had found in the paper recycle bin. She handed it to Junior.

He slowly accepted the parcel and put it gently on the table. Carefully he unfolded the paper knowing it could be used again at another time.

The look of wonder on his face was enough for Cindy. He lifted the long, narrow multi-coloured scarf up and held it for the others to see. He knew how carefully Cindy must have unpicked the jersey it had once been and turned it stitch by loving stitch into this beautiful work of art complete with short fringes.

On the regulated world of Thera there was no need for winter clothes so this scarf was simply an adornment for her son’s use.

I often wondered what happened to that jersey when I grew out of it. He leaned across and kissed her cheek. Thanks Mom he whispered.

The following day Junior joined his father in boarding the transport to work. As Head exec of Section 18’s General Foods’ Processing Plant the time had come for John Mason to hand over the reigns to his son. But the youngster needed to spend the next three or four years learning the trade and it was John’s responsibility to see that Junior learned his job well. Everyone noticed the coloured scarf worn by the young man and smiled. It brought a bit of brightness to their grey drabness and cheered them up.

Right young ‘un said John as they entered the main office, You can begin by emptying all the office waste baskets and sorting their contents into the appropriate recycle bins.

Junior stopped in his tracks. You’re joking! he exclaimed.

No joke, son John said. You have to learn everything about the workings of this processing plant if you want to end up in my place. So you start where I did, at the bottom. Then John picked up the waste basket and handed it to his son.

Junior looked his father in the eye, nodded and took the basket from him. His first day at work had begun.

As Junior crossed the factory floor he noticed some of the workers watching him. He considered it normal behaviour. After all he was the ‘heir to the throne’, the successor to the Boss’s job. So he smiled pleasantly and carried on with his work assignment.

The recycle bins were similar to those he’d seen in their residential block and he reasoned it wouldn’t be too difficult to separate the waste into its various components. But he soon began to realise how wrong he was in his assumption. Every basket had assorted items and some of the contents were so diverse that he spent a lot of time running from one recycle bin to the next.

If you carry on the way you’re going now, you’ll be dead by the end of the week, or out of a job! It was an older man who had been watching him. You need to work out an efficient system that will allow you to get the job done in a third of the time, or even a quarter of the time he said.

Junior was startled by the man even speaking to him and found himself looking at a compact individual with straight black hair and the slanted eyes of someone from Chinese extraction, although he had evidence of other races mixed in his ancestry. No Worker ever spoke to an Executive without being asked to do so by the latter, even if it was his first day on the job and was no more than an apprentice. But the youngster sighed. The older man was right. He needed some help.

What do you suggest? he asked looking the oldster in the eye.

The older man grinned. You’re a game young whelp, I’ll give you that. But what you need is a system, sir he said.

A system? Like what? asked Junior.

Instead of running back and forth from each office in turn, why don’t you bring all the waste from one area in a big waste disposal bag and sort it all out here at the recycle bins?

Do more than one at a time, you mean?

"That’s right. Tip the waste from the baskets into the bag, and then sort it all out separately before you put it in the recycle bins. The old man grinned. My Dad did the same for your father" he said.

Junior nodded his thanks. May I know your name, please?

Folks generally call me ‘Jorig’ the Mincer. That’s because I’m in charge of mincing all the processed meat that arrives and preparing it for canning and packaging he said.

That sounds like an important job Junior replied, grinning. Ever get anything that has to be disposed of because of bad handling? he asked.

Not often said Jorig, there are occasions when something slips through, but not that often to really matter.

What sort of things? Junior wanted to know.

Oh, on the rare occasion a rabbit’s foot with the fur still hanging will slip past the inspectors, but it’s about six or seven years since that last happened.

Rabbit? asked Junior.

Yeah replied Jorig. It’s some of the meat that comes in from the Cultivation Zones, especially 23. That’s our assigned Zone.

I didn’t know that said Junior. Thank you for teaching me something new he grinned.

You’re welcome, young sir.

Jorig, said Junior, while I’m working along with the rest of you, until I become the Boss in the office, please just call me ‘Junior’.

And what’ll happen when you sit behind your Pa’s desk? Jorig’s reply was caustic.

Junior just grinned at him. It’ll come up for review he said.

Jorig looked at the boy, enigmatic in his thoughts. That’s a nice scarf you’ve got there he commented.

Thanks, my Mom made it for my coming of age. It’s special replied Junior.

Then you have a good mother said Jorig and returned to his work.

How was your first day at the Plant? Cindy was avid to know how Junior had managed in the world of big commerce.

Fine, Mom he said as he unwound his scarf and folded it carefully onto his clothes shelf. I met an interesting older man by the name of Jorig.

Oh said John drolly, so you met old Jorig, did you? He’s quite a character, isn’t he?

Junior grinned at John. You can say that again he said.

All right said John. He’s quite a character, isn’t he? John kept his face a deadpan mask.

Cindy swatted her husband with the cloth she had in her hand. Oh YOU! she exclaimed. He’s bad enough as it is, so don’t encourage him!

Who? John’s expression was mystified. Jorig or Junior?

Junior’s peal of laughter made them look up. You two always know how to make me laugh he said.

Jorig’s a loyal worker said John. His father taught me a few things and showed me how to deal with any problem that came along. You could do a lot worse than make a friend of Jorig and learn from him".

Thanks for the advice, Dad acknowledged Junior. He said his father taught you how to use a system for clearing the waste baskets. It works, too!

But Junior didn’t mention that he’d refined Jorig’s system by starting at the farthest recycle bin, emptying every available scrap into it and then working his way to each bin in turn until he finished at the first one, the paper recycle bin. It cut a good eight minutes off his work time.

Jorig looked at his older sister as they enjoyed their evening Vitadrink together in their small apartment. He’d chosen the Chicken Soup flavour and Elan had selected the Oxtail Stew. They both knew the drinks contained the same vitamins, minerals and trace elements as every other Vitadrink but they liked to try the different flavours that were available. It made their diet seem a little more varied and it also convinced the hungry masses that they were getting enough sustenance to keep body and soul together. There were no overweight people on Thera.

The Boss’s boy started work today he told Elan.

Is that supposed to be good or bad, Jorig? she asked. One can never tell with you.

Hmm. There was a brief pause, and Elan waited. There’s something in this youngster that never was in the father he said.

Elan tilted her head in query but said nothing.

"This young fellow has a strong mind of his own and will do things his way and have others following his example without question." Elan let him gather his thoughts. She knew he’d tell her the rest just as soon as he could reason it all through for himself. Jorig could not be rushed.

Elan quietly sipped her night time Vitadrink and waited.

Several minutes went past, and then Jorig said Today that young man made a stand for equality. Elan gasped in surprise. This was nothing like she’d expected.

He may not realise it himself, yet, but he did Elan, he made a stand for equality when he told me to call him ‘Junior’ and not ‘young sir’.

He turned to Elan and looked her straight in the eye. "He asked who I was and I told him I was Jorig the Mincer. Then he said as long as he was learning the trade like the rest of us I was to call him ‘Junior’ just as equal to anyone else on