“Really?” I said. “In what way?”
“The offerings. The oranges. The eggs. Aunt Elizabeth feels that this excess attention is dangerously close to cult worship. Which would be idolatry,” she added. “A grave sin.”
“Indeed,” I said. “What an illuminating insight.”
“Also it’s a waste of valuable food. She says it’s practically sabotage.”
“I do so agree,” I said. “No one is more eager than I to avoid even the appearance of a cult of personality. As you know, I support strict rules concerning nutrient intake. We leaders at the Hall must set a high example, even in such matters as second helpings, especially of hard-boiled eggs.” Here I paused: I had video footage of Aunt Elizabeth in the Refectory, secreting these portable food items in her sleeves, but this was not the moment to share. ?
??As for the offerings, such manifestations on the part of others are beyond my control. I cannot prevent unknown persons from leaving tokens of affection and respect, of loyalty and thanks, such as baked goods and fruit items, at the feet of my effigy. However undeserved by myself, it goes without saying.”
“Not prevent them ahead of time,” said Aunt Vidala. “But they might be detected and punished.”
“We have no rule about such actions,” said I, “so no rule has been broken.”
“Then we should make a rule,” said Aunt Vidala.
“I will certainly consider it,” I said. “And the appropriate punishment. These things need to be tactfully done.” It would be a pity to give up the oranges, I reflected: they are intermittent, given the undependable supply lines. “But I believe you have more to add?”
By this time we had reached the Schlafly Café. We seated ourselves at one of the pink tables. “A cup of warm milk?” I asked. “I’ll treat you.”
“I can’t drink milk,” she said peevishly. “It’s mucus-forming.”
I always offer Aunt Vidala a warm milk at my expense, which displays my generosity—milk not being a part of our common rations, but an elective, paid for with the tokens we are given according to our status. She always declines irascibly.
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I’d forgotten. Some mint tea, then?”
Once our drinks were in front of us, she got down to her main business. “The fact is,” she said, “I personally have witnessed Aunt Elizabeth placing food items at the foot of your statue. Hard-boiled eggs in particular.”
“Fascinating,” I said. “Why would she be doing that?”
“To create evidence against you,” she said. “That is my opinion.”
“Evidence?” I’d thought Elizabeth had merely been eating those eggs. This was a more creative use for them: I was quite proud of her.
“I believe she’s preparing to denounce you. To divert attention from herself and her own disloyal activities. She may be the traitor within us, here at Ardua Hall—working with the Mayday terrorists. I have long suspected her of heresy,” said Aunt Vidala.
I experienced a jolt of excitement. This was a development I hadn’t anticipated: Vidala snitching on Elizabeth—and to me of all people, despite her long-standing loathing of me! Wonders never cease.
“That is shocking news, if true. Thank you for telling me,” I said. “You shall be rewarded. Though there is no proof at present, I shall take the precaution of communicating your suspicions to Commander Judd.”
“Thank you,” said Aunt Vidala in turn. “I confess that I once had doubts as to your fitness as our leader, here at Ardua Hall, but I have prayed about it. I was wrong to have such doubts. I apologize.”
“Everyone makes mistakes,” I said magnanimously. “We are only human.”
“Under His Eye,” she said, bowing her head.
Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. Having no friends, I must make do with enemies.
XII
CARPITZ
Transcript of Witness Testimony 369B
30
I was telling you about the moment when Elijah said that I wasn’t who I thought I was. I don’t like remembering that feeling. It was like having a sinkhole open up and swallow you—not only you but your house, your room, your past, everything you’d ever known about yourself, even the way you looked—it was falling and smothering and darkness, all at once.