Free The Deep by Jen Minkman Page B

shoots Tony speaks
volumes. He’s lost his trust in Dartmoor City – even in Tony
himself.
    Our savior sticks to nodding quietly, leading
us to a smaller building opposite the palace. Upon entering, we
discover it’s some kind of restaurant where simple food and drinks
are being served. We choose a table in the far left corner and sit
down. The waitress who instantly shows up is quickly sent away to
fetch some apple juice and fresh bread with cheese.
    “I wouldn’t mind a beer right now,” Walt
sourly comments, looking at his father. William nods in
agreement.
    “Beer?” Tony parrots.
    “Yeah. It’s an alcoholic beverage made of
barley,” I explain flatly.
    Tony shakes his head. “We don’t consume
alcohol in Dartmoor. It’s only used to disinfect wounds.”
    “Because?” William wants to know.
    “Alcohol consumption triggers violence.”
    We are all quiet. “Yeah, I can imagine people
don’t want to get drunk and lose their temper here,” Walt then
comments sharply.
    Tony looks at us one by one with a serious
face. “I know it must all seem very strange to you, but there’s an
explanation. After the old world was destroyed, new leaders
emerged. People with ideals based on peace and nonviolence. People
who wanted to make sure that wars like that would never be fought
again.” He takes a deep breath. “Gideon, our first leader, believed
that our community could only stay true to its ideals if we set out
to destroy violence and aggression root and branch. That’s what his
book, the New Testament, says. It taught us what Jesus thought of
violence and animosity. He disapproved of those things. He even
told us to love our enemies.”
    “So does everybody agree with the way you’ve
implemented this wisdom?” William inquires in total shock.
    “All the people in our cities sign a manifest
when they turn eighteen. In it, they promise they won’t use
violence to solve conflict. And we carefully observe all children
and teenagers under eighteen to find out if there are any
aggressive ones among them, so we can educate them. Should someone
turn to violence after they signed the manifest, he or she is
Purged, so our society remains true to its norms and values. And
this way, violent tendencies are also weeded out because the
aggressors won’t pass them on to any offspring.”
    “Holy Agnes,” Walt whispers. “Now I
understand why you were so shocked by what happened to Praed in
Hope Harbor.” He told me that Tony was utterly devastated after the
incident, and now I get why. Henry was equally frozen with fear
when Saul’s henchmen dragged him out of his cell. In all
probability, these people have never witnessed or experienced real
violence. The minute hostility rears its ugly head, it is nipped in
the bud with a friendly smile and a merciless needle.
    “But Tony!” I hiss. “Surely you don’t agree
with the way things are done around here?” I shoot him a searching
look. Somehow it doesn’t feel like his explanation about Gideon’s
teachings are spoken from the heart.
    Tony leans a bit closer. “In Bodmin, things
are less strict,” he divulges in a low voice. “In my city, the
mayor issues three warnings before taking action. But President
Jacob doesn’t know that, and we’d like to keep it that way. Before
I left for Penzance, I’d just started up a new project with the
mayor to help and support teenagers and young adults with
behavioral issues. I’m a youth counselor. And I think we should try
to re-educate these people, not make them disappear.”
    “But that’s a radical point of view,” William
concludes.
    “Yes, it is.”
    “Why is there a fence around Dartmoor
County?” I blurt out. “How does that help anyone?”
    “It’s their way to keep out strangers who
don’t share their ideals,” Tony replies. “And sometimes – people
escape. Especially here. They run off before they can get arrested
and Purged, to disappear into the poisonous lands beyond the fence.
And the