The Lock-In

Sarah sat on the third pew back from the front. She squirmed on the wood seat, once again irritated at her own bony bottom as Pastor Hogarth went into the second hour of his sermon. Sarah sat between two other girls, each eighteen like her. To her right, Beth, a slim girl with mousy hair and a pointed face. And to her left, Liz, a taller, dark haired girl with her buxom chest tamped down under a restricting bra and altogether hidden under a conservative dress. Sarah thought each of them was more attractive than her, just as Beth and Liz shared the same sentiment about Sarah. They envied her red, curly hair and her fair skin, but, having heard their friend's complaints of a lacking posterior, wouldn't have envied her in all regards. Not that any of them believed their looks mattered much, as Pastor Hogarth taught, it is the soul in which true beauty exists.

The pastor looked out over his congregation as he lamented the woes of the sinful man. He did not think it was a particularly inspired sermon or that it would have much of an affect on his flock, but he never skimped in the performance. The church lacked any air conditioning other than the ceiling fans whirring slowly over the heads of the sheep. They fanned themselves with the week's bulletin. A few looked longingly at the breeze blowing outside. Hogarth dabbed the sweat from his brow with his handkerchief and looked ahead in his notes.

He was a slight man who in any other profession would have been regarded with suspicion. His frame was too narrow and his cheekbones too gaunt. He seemed genetically predisposed to qualities of untrustworthiness. He kept a beard of dark, thick hair to attempt to be more approachable, but for many people it only helped him teeter between insidious and disingenuous. He looked out again, and his eyes fell on the three young women in the third row. Fingers drumming on the side of the pulpit, he pushed his notes aside and changed topic. "Friends, I have gone long enough with a held tongue," he paused, feeling the attention of each person in the room come crawling back to him, abandoning thoughts of a cool Sunday in the shade or a baseball game on the radio or even Sunday lunch.

"There is evil in the world, we know that. Across the sea, the Red Menace says there is no God. If they had their way, they would stride across the world leaving not only thousands or millions of human lives dead in their wake, but our God would be among the fallen and forgotten. I say that and yet before me I see good Americans, solid patriots, who have sacrificed everything to keep that evil at bay. We will keep fighting that evil because it wears the face of evil. It proclaims it loudly in its symbols and rhetoric. That evil is easy to see and to fight. But as God has told us, not all evils can be seen. Yes, of course, as Peter says, 'be sober-minded, be watchful. Your adversary prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.' But is our Adversary not also the serpent who comes to us in our moments of vulnerability to tell us our wants should trump our faith. Friends, we have the enemy across the sea, but we have another enemy here, in this room, in this moment."

Sarah and her friends looked around them as if expecting to see a writhing snake preparing to strike. All she saw were others watching Hogarth with rapt attention, others which included the boys. Liam stuck out from the crowd like a sore thumb, a foot taller than anyone else in the room. Adding to the contrast was his striking youth in a room full of old men. His stark blue eyes peered out from a face unshaven for weeks yet smooth. He noticed Sarah looking at him and gave her the slightest smile in return. They'd finished school together and spent every Sunday school class together for years, but recently their passive looks had become furtive glances.

To Liam's right sat Robert, called Rob his whole life to his own irritation, and then William. Both were shorter by a head than Liam. Rob had hair as dark as coal and olive skin that belied some heritage whispered about by vindictive old women. William looked like Rob's photographic negative. A white shock of hair jutted out from his scalp, poorly hewn down at the regular for fear of being judged older than he was. His fair skin had dark freckles on the arms and shoulders where the sun burned him during long days of work. Neither of the two had a mind for any particular one of the girls sitting across the sanctuary, but both certainly had a mind for girls in general. Their stomachs tightened as Hogarth's gaze drifted to them. The world outside their church community had many lures, and the Milktec girls were some of the most enticing.

"Lust," Hogarth continued. "That age old tool of the Enemy. We guard ourselves. We prepare our children. We wrap ourselves in the divine protection of the Holy Word, yet how can we stand against a villain so strong as radio. Or even more sinister, the rise of the television box. Soon enough, not only the words of the irreligious world will be able to seep into our homes, but images as well. In a small box, you could be shown all the wonder and spectacle of cursed world beyond the righteous." He stopped to take a breath, his fingers fumbling through useless notes. With the quickest glance, he stole a look at the young women again. "Two months ago, we celebrated a great event in the lives of several of our congregation. Our wonderful young men and women who have walked the path alongside us finished their schooling. Young Miss Sarah and Miss Beth and Miss Liz. All three are now considered women by the country we live in. Now that secular world reaches out with enticing offers of money, comfort, and, yes, lust. We know the word which I hesitate to utter here, but if it is an evil word then it should be spoken in a holy place. For if you cannot speak the name of evil then that evil can more easily loiter in your mind, amen?"

The crowd echoed back the word, "amen." Their thoughts of escaping the sanctuary faded as this new, salacious topic dangled in front of them. The whole of the congregation would swear to breaking their kneecaps in prayer, and many would, but prayers said for spectacle are rarely heard and devotion to appearance of worship is not the same as devotion to worship itself. The old men and bitter women looked at the young girls with envy and, since it was brought up by the Pastor himself, lust. The middle aged men with wives whose flower of youth was poisoned by religion could not help but admire the innocence of Miss Sarah and the others. The wives held nothing but contempt for their youth and beauty. The elders were torn between the desire to see Sarah and her friends prosper in ways their predecessors had failed and the desire to strip away the girls' innocence in a petulant fit of "why should they get happiness when I have nothing." These desires hid underneath their supposed faith, and Hogarth drew them to the surface like worms in a rainstorm.

"Hucow," Hogarth spat out the word and waited, seeing the shift in his audience. "A dirty word, correct? A word we shush our children when they use it as an insult. A word that causes old women to blush and old men to look askance at one another. Hucow. A human cow. It's distasteful and embarrassing. But I wager if I were to go to each of your homes and look in your iceboxes, what would I find? Those Milktec bottles brimming with Milktec milk. Hucow milk. Served daily with breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Delivered right to our doorsteps -- yes ours myself included -- from women who have chosen to give it. Women who have been led astray from the path. No, it is not a sin to give milk. Nor is a sin to find employment, but we know that is not the extent of this enterprise. Lured in with promises of good pay and steady homes, these young women are corrupted. They are given drugs and injections to make them produce more. To produce more, they must have more -- more sinful flesh and more sinful attitudes. And those attitudes must be met with willing partners because, as they brazenly announce a happy hucow is a productive hucow. And so, what do they do? They advertise for young men as well. Young men who seek an alternative to military service, which is understandable, isn't it? Fear of death, fear of pain, are these not great motivators? Is it not easier to cast aside the righteous path when you are told that it is beset on all sides by danger? They flock to these factories, these stables, to become the things we whisper about. Hucows and bulls. Abominations genetically altered into rutting beasts to serve a single purpose: profit."

The three young men in the audience shift uncomfortably. William hung his head, no longer wishing to look at the preacher. At home, the literature from Milktec hides under their mattress like a illicit pornographic magazine. They'd gone as a trio to the career fair at the local high school, a special opportunity for their otherwise religious education. Their parents had approved, assuming it would be a good chance for the boys to talk to one of the military recruiters. They'd only gone for Milktec though. Even in their isolated community, they heard rumors and developed their suspicions, which the preacher seemed to be confirming.

"Where is God in this? How can we fight such an insidious evil that does not come with sword in hand, but gifts? Faith, my friends. The true bastion of our existence where we can take refuge and weather any storm. We must not give in to these ways of the secular world. We must fight against these abominations at every turn. Through hard prayer and diligent works, we can overcome these temptations. We can turn our back on those who would embrace lust and sin over prayer and worship." Hogarth ran his tongue over his teeth, feeling the thin film left from a sugary coffee with Milktec Milk. His eyes came to rest on the three women in the front row, but he saw all the women. He saw his congregation devoid of spirit and thriving only on fear and hate. The words lodged in his throat. He'd thought of them too long and feared they would be his undoing. He could not turn back, though. "Friends, here me now. Let us consider for a moment, that this science is not a trick from the devil, but a gift from God. Have not godly men given us great things through science before? Yes, they have, amen. Our good sister Mary Helen sits with us today because science made her a vaccine. Brother Nelson can walk without need of a crutch because a doctor trained in medicine knew to properly set his bone. The gifts of science are the gifts of God so long as they are used in a godly manner. Amen?"

Again the echo came. The congregation sat with rapt attention. Their leader had a wild look in his eye they had seen before. The look meant action no more sitting and listening, but doing in the name of God, a chance to wear their faith on their sleeves and receive either praise or damnation for it.

"Then I say we should embrace this gift," Hogarth held his Bible up and visibly turned to a passage so all could see. "'Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it; rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living thing that moves on the earth.' There you have it. There is our commandment. Be fruitful and multiply. And what of the gift of science? God has given us that gift in the Milktec serum. It is a tool through which the faithful can fulfill the commandment!" His voice echoed with clarity throughout the room. Several of the faces in the crowd began to smile in understanding. "So I have come to an epiphany through the counsel of God here in this moment. I believe we are to be tested. Not all of us, but our representatives. Miss Sarah, Mr. Liam. Could you and your friends come stand in front of the alter?" A murmur of confusion spread through the room. Sarah's heart sunk and the other two girls turned crimson in the cheeks, but they all three rose to their feet. Liam, too, felt a sudden shame as he rose. At first, Rob didn't move, frozen with fear, but a sharp jab from William got him on his feet. The six of them made their way to the front of the church, coming to stand in a line looking at Hogarth until he directed them to turn and face the crowd. "Members, brothers, and sisters, I bring you a question. Are these six young men and women raised rightly in God? Who will speak for them?"

Brother Elmer, the man who had taught them all mathematics for the past two years, stood. "I speak for them first. They are right with God by their own voices."

Hogarth grinned. "And by their own voices is it so proclaimed?"

The prompt was not unfamiliar to them. It had come in their morning prayers every day of their schooling. As one, they responded, "Yes, I walk with God."

"Then you shall stand the test." Hogarth could feel the spittle dripping from his lower lip while sweat poured down his back. "Tonight, we will pray for these six young men and women as they sit in vigil. We will leave them shuttered within the house of God to pray with one another about the task set before them. If it is the will of God that we pursue this path of fulfilling our commandment, then he will give us a sign. We will take that into our faith and spread the blessing to every member of our congregation. If not, then we will know it is the devil amongst us, and we will root it out. Amen?"

Others got to their feet, echoing amen and clasping their hands, frantic for some arcane sign that would surely deliver them a new direction in their directionless lives. The six young men and women looked at one another, smiling and feeling the fervor of belief coursing through them. Sarah, above all, knew that if it was her destiny to become a hucow, then God would show her that path. And she felt in her heart that she already knew the answer.

***

"Your best sermon yet," they said. "I could feel the spirit in the room."

Hogarth shook the hands of his congregation, seeing the same fascination in their eyes that he'd seen in his own time and again. Everyone wanted it, but none would dare be the one to broach the subject. Every man who shook his hand as they left the church wanted to shove a hypodermic needle of Milktec serum into their wife's fat ass. And every woman in turn would one up their husbands by injecting the bull serum right into their husband's dicks. They almost salivated at the idea. Sins were only sins if the preacher man said, after all. No Catholics shook his hand, but they all implicitly believed in absolutions. They'd bowed their heads and hid their faces when he started talking about hucows and Milktec, but raised those faces up to the glory of God's word the second the wind changed. This was a lesson Hogarth had learned long ago, and one he had kept well hidden in the interim years.

With the church emptied and the plan set in motion, he returned to his office. The shadowed figure standing behind his desk startled him, but the surprise left quickly. "Mr. Tull, I wasn't expecting you for another hour."

"I decided to drop by a little early. Wanted to hear the rest of your sermon. We thought you might back out again." Tull was a bulky man with a scar under his right eye. He wore a bowler cap and a brown suit. Gesturing to a case on the desk, he moved around to stand toe to toe with Hogarth. "My employers are very interested in converting this town. As you know, we've allocated a lot of resources to that end. We just need a little local support."

Hogarth did not find the man intimidating, but could recognize a threat when it was presenting itself. "It'll work. I don't need to hear your pitch or your threats. I am converted and born again. The die is cast, whatever else happens now is beyond my control." He looked to the case on the desk. "Will that be enough?"

Tull looked up and down at the preacher, passing several unspoken judgments. "Yes. It'll get the job done. Just a matter of time. You know, Hogarth, if this works out then you could be quite useful. Traveling preachers open doors that traveling salesmen get turned away from."

"I'll consider that," Hogarth answered, stepping away. He knew Tull wasn't a man to tell no, even if that was the only answer left.

"You do that. I'll check in again at the end of the week. By next Sunday, I expect to see a very different group of folks leaving your church."

The man vanished out the door without making a sound. Hogarth's hands went to the case on his desk, opening it up with two loud clicks. Reaching inside, he withdrew a bottle and held it up to light, examining its contents. His chief concern in that moment was his ability to bake.

***

The pews had been moved to the sides of the room. In the center, six sleeping bags, four brought by their owners and two borrowed for the occasion, laid out on the floor. On one side, Liam sat with the other young men just as they had that morning, and on the other, Sarah and her friends sat whispering silently between themselves. Their parents saw them off as though they were taking a bus into town. Half the church turned up to watch the six eighteen year olds walk into the sanctuary as if they were passing beyond the mortal realm. Perhaps some believed that was actually the case. Dimly, through the closed doors, they could hear Hogarth extolling their virtues and promising the safety of their eternal souls. He seemed to be prattling on about Jesus confronting Satan in the desert, but none of the young people in the church were so naive to believe their task comparable to that one. Periodically, the two groups would glance over at their counterparts, each side understanding the trial set before them.

The door of the sanctuary opened, and Hogarth strode inside. "Excellent, I see you've brought your sleeping things. Now then, all of you pay close attention, tonight is about communing with God through prayer in order to understand these hurdles put before us. I've brought some literature about the science of it all. I suggest you read that, though I suspect you're all a little more familiar with it than you'd like your parents to know. That's nothing to be ashamed of. If God truly wishes for this to become our church's path then you have been right to learn about it. And if it is nothing more than a stumbling block set in front of us, then you are still right to have sought knowledge of our foe."

Beth raised her hand, "Brother Hogarth, what exactly are we supposed to look for in our prayers? What questions are we asking of God?"

Hogarth smiled, his lips contorting into a grin that was either comforting or slimy depending on how the light hit it. "You ask God what to do. And then you do what comes naturally. Whatever happens here tonight is by God's will. We will all be praying for you." For the briefest moment, Hogarth felt pity in his heart. Then he remembered what Tull had told him. Each of the six in the room had approached a Milktec recruiter at one point or another. The boys had spent thirty minutes at the career fair, and the girls had lied to their parents about spending the day at each other's homes to take a trip up to the nearest Milktec office. "Now then, I've had the ladies prepare some food for you if you get hungry. There's also milk and water as well as some cupcakes. No sense in it being too serious in here after all. This is a show of true devotion, but that does not always mean absolute misery." He feigned a laugh before whirling on his heel and heading to the door. "I'll be locking you in. I'll be back at 8 am tomorrow morning. Have good night."

The doors groaned as he closed them. All six listened to the rattle of keys against the lock. They did not move until the sounds outside stopped. The rest of the church goers went home for the night, and Hogarth retreated to his home. The sun dropped quickly, bringing cool evening air in as the fans whirred above them. Finally, Rob moved. He headed for the table of food and grabbed a plate. The others watched him as though he were walking over someone's grave. "What? You all know damn well why they locked us up in here tonight?"