[To] All Citizens of Eden
[From] The Committee for Upstanding Living
Sunday, November 31st 3053  7:00 PM
Notice: A New World View

As of Monday, December First in the year 3053 all cultural observations left over from the decadent past--properly defined as unproductive and unworthy of the new order--shall hereto be abandoned and declared unlawful.

Such observations include out-dated political events such as the Forth of July and Thanksgiving, as well as any religious observances such as weekly Sabbath Days, Yon Kippur Purim, Easter. . .AND CHRISTMAS.

As the edict flashed across home and office terminals all over the planet, a series of prearranged commands hidden deep within the system clicked quietly into place.

"Christmas/ Declared Unlawful/ Emergency Over-Rule"/

"RUN: /YULE_BURN"

It was a frozen, dry and desolate world, driven for years by an oppressive rule which told its water when to flow, its land when to produce and its people what to think and what to say. As far as an eye could see the world lay bound in regimented levels of concrete and stone, its surface divided by dark, parallel, moving roads all interconnecting at regularly spaced terminal points The only open land was that deemed necessary by the state for sustenance. These patches would have been the only green seen across the vista during summer months. But this was the beginning of winter, so the land lay bare, brown and iron hard. No blanket of snow covered and protected it from the freezing wind since snow had long been deemed counter-productive and was produced only in late winter and then only in moderation to prepare the land for its summer toil. It was mechanized dream of efficiency and a human nightmare.

It had not always been so. Years ago when humans had first come to colonize this world, they had found a lush green land filled with life, a world wide open with opportunities to begin again. Like Earth two-thirds of the globe lay covered by ocean, However the other one third of exposed land was mostly accounted for in a single large continent which lay in the northern hemisphere. Although it would force the human inhabitants to basically create a single society living even in essentially the same weather pattern, it offered bountiful space to live and fertility to grow. The captain had named the world "Eden." But the colonists, angelic looking in their white suits as they disembarked from their starships surrounded by protective energy fields, were fallen angels carrying within them demons of thoughtless and devastating hunger. How dark this emptiness was depended then--as now--upon the individual. Eden's fate was not predestined but there was a fearful tendency even among the religious.

They began to build, at first making only minor intrusions here and there. They had systems to control farm land and the environments of scattered enclaves of settlements. Bit by bit more and more land was appropriated. The colonists were multiplying, but because of the medical technology they had brought with them, few were dying. In fact by the time of the edict there were still a good number of the original colonists alive.

Efficient use of resources became a higher and higher priority. The scientists and engineers began to inter-link the systems making them more and more efficient. Control became more and more important both of ecological assets and of human filled communities. No one was alarmed for chaos was, of course, harmful for the great society they were building. Natural disasters and man made crime needed to be eliminated. So the scientists and leaders of the colony began to exterminate any element which might lead to this. No one noticed as individuality and wildness of nature were locked up and subdued. Among these scientists, however, there had been a man of faith who began to doubt the wisdom of his peers.

Not a minister nor a theologian although he respected both, he had instead been a computer programmer and system developer for the expedition. He was given the task to design the Cyber-Mind of the system which eventually came to regulate the whole continent. At first he had been pleased with the assignment, seeing it as a boon for his fellow Edonites. But as time progressed he began to become alarmed as he saw one freedom after another removed in the name of safety and harmony.

He had never been a brave man. Perhaps that was his flaw; he could have and probably should have done more to stop the gradual enslavement of his new home. However, the tightening of the bonds had been so gradual, so subtle, that he had not noticed them slipping around his own throat until it was nearly too late--and he had also never been a very introspective man.

So much of what the central authority had set out to do had seemed so positive. What good were vast expanses of unused landscape really? Nice to look at? Perhaps, but weren't the needs of a flourishing colony of more important than some aesthetic concept which could be easily reproduced in a virtual reality (VR) chip? And yet when had the landscape turned so ugly so that Edonites spent more and more time in virtual reality hiding from their living quarters which had been so important to build?

Wasn't it also a good idea to discourage the growth of minority belief systems? He had always been confident of his own faith, and it only caused confusion for his companions to hear various and contradictory systems. When had passive discouragement become active persecution?

However it had occurred, it had. And one night Arthur Krenchaw found himself within the vast audience of the voting electorate listening in gapped-mouth wonder as the colony's ruling council openly introducing the concept that not only those "other" belief systems but his own was nothing more than an outdated, remnant from the obsolete Earth past. Something to be swept away. The crowd around him had roared their approval. And after taking off his VR helmet, Arthur had sat trembling in the single chair found in his windowless cubical home-space. Slowing getting up he had moved over to the fold down bunk. It made no difference that he knew that more than likely the roaring applause of the crowd had been an illusion.

He could remember working on such programs in which an individual--even if there were others who thought as he or she did-would in the VR electorate room still get a sense of the position held by the majority. And, of course, in their wisdom the ruling council could always create the appearance of the majority following their suggestions no matter what the actual cross section of the populous' opinion was. Understanding that application to his work had been one of the first twinges Krenchaw's conscience.

The knowledge that the audience might not have been cheering for the demise of all he held dear did not calm the old man. The fact was he knew that the council had begun its latest move. Controlling the workings of nature and of the human mind, it had taken on the responsibilities of divinity. Now it wanted to be sure there were no other gods before it. No nostalgic memories of past governments founded on freedoms, no belief systems which suggested larger realities than its own existence. It was only a matter of time. And as a believer he would be certainly on the list of outworn parts needing replacement. He thought for a long while, and then getting back into his chair, the frightened old man activated his terminal.

Arthur called up one of the evening vid shows, the usual selection of sitcoms and old time movies. The entertainment unit was connected to the larger cyber-system, and he had amassed enough credit time to watch from 8:00 p.m. to 1:00 a.m. for over a week. Each citizen was allowed a limited number of vid time except for the news hour from 7:00-8:00, which was always free. It was not uncommon for citizens to save up hours to view special marathons sponsored by state run lotteries. Arthur, however, had just not been interested recently. He'd been troubled by developments at work. There was nothing overt, but Arthur had sensed responsibilities being taken from him, colleagues beginning to avoid him. Now he feared he knew what was happening.

He remembered how sad he had been years ago when the outward display of Christmas celebrations (lights decorations and such) had been declared "wasteful and unnecessary." He's half believed the edict knowing, as he did then, how tight resources were becoming. But all the same he'd found the snow blown city-scape chilled without the old Christmas decorations. And when he later learned that the High Council was planing a new years celebration with a new twist, Founders Day--celebrating the High Council's continuation of the Founding Father's spirit--well he just felt sick. Somewhere inside himself, as he looked at the snow covered horizon, Arthur knew he had been "had." He tried to look upon the snow as at least a kind of Christmas decoration. Two years later the High Council banned snow from December, and Arthur learned how desolate a horizon can be.

He had started speaking out then. But it had already been done, and his objections raised in the electorate were recorded only as footnotes. He's gone home to comfort himself by pulling out an old Christmas CD brought from Earth and look at his if artificial at least still green Christmas tree.

And now that was going to be banned as well. The state was going to snuff out the last red candle of Christmas. And since Arthur had no intention of letting go of Christmas he knew that he was also going to be snuffed.

What.' exclaimed the Ghost,' would you so soon put
out, with worldly hands, the light I give? Is it not enough
that you are one of those whose passions made this cap, and
force me through whole trains of years to wear it low upon
my brow.'

Activating his vid access, he made a choice and brought up one of the old shows which had once been popular back on Earth. However as he watched Ralph Cramdon threaten his wife, Arthur let his fingers play lightly on the keys. Within the workings of the show a secret piggy back program activated whose menu came up within the running picture. Years before he had, as an intellectual curiosity created this loophole.

It allowed him access into the greater computer grid. Anyone monitoring him-he had never minded being monitored before; he'd always had nothing to hide-at any rate anyone monitoring old Arthur would seem to find him enjoying some old re-run. Meanwhile he activated the "back door" he had long ago installed into the system proper.

Why had he created these alternative access points? He really could not answer. After an initial test-run the whole secret entrance into the Cyber-Mind's command center had been left unused. Arthur never cheated--no unexplained promotions, no mysterious bonuses in his paycheck. He had thought he had done it as a type of puzzle. When the ruling council had limited his access it had galled him. He was after all the creator of the system, and reestablishing his personal access to his creation had just, he thought, soothed his ego. But now as Arthur's fingers danced keystrokes, he wondered whether even back then part of him had been fearful and had created this option.

He did not dare enter through his usual code; it could not go high enough and, the way things were going, it might be blocked already. But even if it weren't he did not want there to be a record of his entrance. What he planned must stay hidden and buried where it could not be found.

He worked feverishly through the week. Laying out instructions, accessing library files from various data bases long thought lost but merely filed away for the elite to occasionally view, he sat gazing into the screen. Night after night he used his allotted vid time to work on his project. There was in his mind a constant feeling of pressing against a dead line. No one spoke to him at work. Eyes were turned away.

"Preparing themselves" he thought, for the moment I vanish. Early, early in the seventh morning he finally finished and closed the system, erasing all traces of his entrance.

"Safe and secure" he thought, "Now I'll can relax a. . ." Suddenly, pounding on his cubical entrance. Still in his chair, Arthur slowly turned his gaze toward the door. Somewhere he remembered reading that secret police always came just a little past mid-night to gather offenders, so they could catch them just after they had entered deep sleep. For a moment he thought about meeting them fully clothed but feared that even that little act of defiance might trigger in their minds a curiosity over what he had been doing at such an hour.

The banging increase in force; he quickly stripped off his day cloths to put on his night-ware. He was just fumbling with the last button when a splintering sound came from his door latch.

Arthur Krenchaw was actually arrested before his beliefs were outlawed. He was a criminal waiting for the state to create the law he had already broken. He was mildly surprised and pleased to find that he was not alone in his cell. Apparently the state did not wish to waste resources in building spacious holding pens for the anti-social. It was good to have company although he felt slightly dizzy as he realized the significance of them not putting him through the vigorous of interrogation. They wanted nothing from his except his disappearance.

"Shalom, my friend," said another old man when he came in.

"Rubinstein?"

"Yes it's me." The two had known one another on a project years ago. "Who would have guess practicing one's faith would lead to such a place, eh?"

"I didn't know that you actually still 'practiced.'" The other old man raised his shoulders in a self-deprecating shrug.

"I really didn't. But when they dragged me before that council somehow I just couldn't bring myself to say Yahweh was nothing more than a superstition. I knew that if I had, it would have at best only been a postponement. Sooner or later they'd have been back. You see, I remember--we, my people I mean--have been through this before."

"Yes you have. And I read about it. Why didn't I recognize all this when it began to start again?"

"It's always hard to see the speck in your own eye." Arthur smiled at the New Testament reference. "So, Krenchaw you haven't told me. What was the verdict?"

"I've been told nothing, but I did hear that an edict will be announced on Sunday and go into effect Monday."

"And then?"

"And then. . ." Krenchaw sighed, ". . .and then I suppose the same thing will happen to us that happened to the 'Friends of the Faith' cult a few winters back." Rubinstein nodded. Krenchaw looked at his companion and for a moment and opened his mouth.

"Yes?" said the old Hebrew.

"Nothing. I thought. . .but no, it's nothing. How specific do you suppose they will be in the edict?"

"Oh trust me, my friend, they will be very specific. No one gets through these masters of red tape."

"Yes, I suppose you're right."

So it was that on November 31st just as the edict was flashing across the screens of Eden's news stations both in homes and offices, Arthur Krenchaw found himself in a holding pen gazing out into a barren open enclosure. Through the stainless steel barred gate he could see that the walls were white, but on the far end he also noted dark spots on one wall all about four feet from the ground. It was probably his imagination, but he through the spots had a reddish tinge to them. He was first in line.

Men in white winter fatigues armed with marksmen needle weapons marched out in step from a door on the other side of the enclosure. Arthur noticed how cold the bars were that he was leaning against as he watched them taken their positions. Slowly the gate in front of him was pulled aside.

By this time the edict had flashed across the numerous screens of the colony making certain that all who saw it knew it to be official--not some prank.

And then the relays--his relays--clicked together. In his mind Arthur Krenchaw could not come up with any edict more devastating that the banning of Christmas--it wasn't profound and it probably wasn't accurate but to him the point when the state made such move was the point when it would all need to come down. And so he had used that phrase "Christmas/ Declared Unlawful" as a cue word to activate a process. All through the system the regulatory controls began to undo themselves. One by one monitors shorted out. The system itself was smarter than Krenchaw had even originally conceived it. The Cyber-Mind with spontaneous and almost miraculous efficiency sought out every level of control it held over Eden's nature and populous and systematically destroyed it.

The destruction of cyber files were of course done quietly, but the machine also took steps to destroy the actual mechanisms upon which the state leaned so heavily. Valves were opened into storage vats not built for the pressure they received. Roads were ordered to reverse their direction, causing cargo bays to collide in sometimes spectacular explosions.

At the same time within every home and office from long un-used printers came spewing forth pages and pages of hard copy of survival texts--instructions brought from long forgotten Earth on how to live without technology. From deep within the recesses of the Cyber-Mind came all sorts of manuals all brought along just in case the machinery had failed during the initial stages of being set up.

Along with this there was also texts of literature, philosophy, varied views of history, and holy texts from a wide range of faiths. In the end Arthur could not abandon what he had helped suppress.

Simultaneously from the multie-media speakers located everywhere on Eden, came, instead of the calming voice of an authority still in control, a wild unchecked synthesizer rendition of "Carol of the Bells." Arthur could hear the music over the prison loudspeaker.

"Melodramatic perhaps" he thought, "but effective." The whole cyber-system had gone mad, and no one could find any way to shut it down. The orders were coming from deep within the Cyber-Mind and any attempt to halt them--feared the council--could be even more disastrous. Of course no one in the council knew what was really happening; for if they had, they might have tried even such a desperate move --but it all occurred in moments.

It made quite a spectacular show as, throughout the complex where Arthur was being held, sparks flew here and there, doors were unlocked, codes erased and files dumped. Besides the survival manuals, Arthur had included his own confession for what he had done explaining all that he knew about computer manipulation and his certainty of the corruption of the High Council. And then, almost as an afterthought, he again thought of Christmas.

Although the entire text from one book special to Arthur was included in the vast hard copy being created throughout Eden, the old man in the last moments of his work the night before had ordered an illuminated copy of a passage from it to be printed. It came out last, in a single page. In red gothic script is said "Christmas Is. . ." and below it came these words:
 

And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed. 2. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) 3.

And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. 4. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) 5. To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.. .

Christmas Can Not and Will Not Be Stopped!

Arthur Krenchaw

The commander of the compound retched the paper from the printer, stared at it with horror, and then looked down into the open area where Arthur and the frightened squad of men stood. The soldiers had lost their look of precision and assurance and looked about them as minor explosions rocked different parts of enclave.

Arthur wasn't sure what was in store for Eden. He hoped the instructions he had printed would help the colonists survive the winter. He hoped that they would not run like sheep back to the council which had crushed them but instead read the literature he had pulled up. They wouldn't be forced to give it up. The Cyber-Mind in following the command to destroy mechanisms of control had even destroyed the military's weapons.

However people will cling to what they are used to and he knew that many would look to the High Council still to guide them. He also knew that he might be remembered as the single greatest traitor the colony had ever known. Who could say what suffering he had unleashed on his people in the beginning of winter? But now he felt calm and serene. If the soldiers got their act together and shot, it would not matter to him. He had done what he could. Looking up toward the darkening sky, darkening at last under its own volition, Arthur smiled as he saw that it had begun to snow. . .for Christmas.

By Anderson M. Rearick III

Dec. 6-8, 1997

Written in a fit of madness when I should
have been grading Expository Writing papers.