The Compassionate Killers

Chapter 1

A DREAM INTERRUPTED

I

‘m dreaming. I know I’m dreaming. I’ve had this dream before—the place and time are etched into my mind. I’m facing west, behind the old barn, on the ranch where I lived as a boy. I’m maybe ten or eleven years old. I notice the weathered old barn wood in desperate need of paint and the rusty and patched tin on the roof. The fence is made of Osage Orange hedge posts with two-inch pipe rails on top and bottom with tightly stretched hog wire in between. Starting at the northwest corner of the barn, there is a loading chute, where thousands of cattle have been loaded on cattle trucks over the years. Just north of the chute is a big ten-foot-long pipe gate. Twenty feet north of the gate is the round metal water tank for the horses, filled with freshwater by an antique water pump. The old pump has been converted to be powered by an electric motor. [This pump and motor were my first instruments of death. A vivid memory that still haunts me to this day.] Directly above the tank towers a huge Elm tree. It looms over the paddock, perfectly placed to provide welcome relief from the unforgiving summer sun on sweltering afternoons. Over the next few years, I would ride hundreds of colts in these pens. Learning to train their young minds [and caring for all the other animals] in this place and time would shape me into the man I would later become.

At this moment, though, there are no animals in the pens. I am alone. I am standing on the top pipe of the fence, on the east side of the paddock—perched, like some strange bird, with effortless balance, surveying this vividly familiar scene. A flock of starlings flies south overhead. Their wings battering the air, with a sound akin to waves on some far-off ocean, as they dart and change direction. Thousands of individuals teaming in an elegant dance, inexplicably and harmonically synchronized. At this moment, a yearning comes over me to join them. To be free of my earthly bonds. Instinctively I bend my knees and spring into the air without hesitation, as if it was in my nature to be a creature of the sky.

Immediately my rational mind interrupts. I look down, expecting my short flight to end abruptly. As I try to pick out a good place to land, something unexpected happens. Instead of reaching my apex and descending back to earth, the earth is moving farther and farther away. I realize in sheer amazement that I’m gaining altitude, not falling. In awe, I rise above the barn, pens, and trees. As I ascend, I decide to stop and hover in midair. I’m some two hundred feet above this place that I thought I knew so well. This perspective sheds some new light on my familiar surroundings. What I thought was big is now small; what I thought was important is now inconsequential. The sensation of flying is exhilarating beyond anything I have ever experienced. A young boy blessed with the gift of flight, I feel empowered and joyful, hovering over the world as if in suspended animation.

As I look down, I notice every detail beneath me; it is all so vivid and correct. How can my mind have constructed this perspective without ever having flown before? At that moment, a wave of panic overwhelms me, ruining my ecstasy.

What if I can’t land!

Fear envelops me. With every shred of desire in me, I will myself down, back to the safety of mother earth. As I descend, my panic is replaced with relief, knowing I will soon be on solid ground again. I notice the fence from where my flight began. I fly down toward it, planning to come to roost on my familiar perch. As I touch down, and I feel the weight of my body on my feet, I immediately launch myself skyward again.

As I leave the fence, I know something is wrong. This time my flight is much shorter. I nosedive into the unforgiving hardness of the paddock. With a mouthful of dirt and a bloodied face, I realize that I’ve ruined the greatest gift I have ever known. It was my fear. My fear was my downfall. My fear has destroyed me.

I hear something. It’s murmured voices. I feel the presence of someone moving around me. I realize I’m waking up. As I begin to regain my cognizance, I can feel someone holding my right hand and rubbing my arm. I hear a soothing female voice with a strange accent.

Mr. Walker, stop fighting it. You are just waking up. You have been asleep for a very long time.

I realize that I’m straining, pulling my arms and legs against something. I am strapped down to a bed. I become enraged. I forcefully try to open my eyes. I feel like I am waking up from death itself. The act of becoming fully conscious is physically painful. I am biting down hard on something. It has a familiar taste, silicone, a mouthguard. I violently shake my head from side to side, trying to clear out the cobwebs of my mind. I hear the woman urgently plead.

Mr. Walker, please calm down!

The intense pain begins to subside. I can finally open my eyes now, seeing nothing but a dim, blurry blue light. I begin to relax.

The woman says, There, that’s better. Everything will be fine in just a few more minutes. Let me remove your mouthguard and loosen your restraints.

Still unable to see, I blink rapidly. I feel her pulling on the mouthguard, and I try to open my mouth. She presses down on my chin, unlodging the guard, freeing my mouth from the sickening taste. I try to talk, but all that emanates from my throat is a hoarse hissing noise.

Mr. Walker, don’t try to speak yet. You are in the hospital.

My eyes begin to focus; I’m in a small room lit by a soothing blue light that cascades down the walls. The woman proceeds, removing my restraints. I try to lift my right hand up to my face, but I can barely raise my arm, weakened from my recent struggle.

My name is Lisa. I’ll be taking care of you today, Mr. Walker. I’m going to raise the head of your bed up.

I feel the head of the bed slowly rising. I look to my left and see a monitor with what I assume are my vital signs. Curiously I notice I have no cords or tubes attached to me. I try to remember how I’ve ended up in the hospital. The last thing I remember is riding a young bay gelding. We’re loping along on a familiar back trail. We are coming up on a cross trail where a cedar tree is growing. Right as we get to the tree, a covey of quail flushes up into my horse’s face. He jumps back and sideways. I keep going. I remember flying through the air. I don’t remember landing.

Mr. Walker, please try to take a sip of water, slowly and not too much.

Lisa presses a straw to my lips. I try to sip. Some of the water goes into my mouth, some goes down my chin. My throat is dry like I’ve been on an all-night bender. This is the best water I’ve ever tasted. I take another sip.

Okay, Mr. Walker, that’s enough for now.

Lisa covers me with a blanket up to my chest.

I’ll be back in a few minutes.

She walks toward the wall just left of the bed. There is a floor-to-ceiling fish tank in the middle of the wall. It’s emanating a soft blue hue and has the soothing sound of trickling water. There are beautiful tropical fish gliding around and through stands of coral in their watery home. At the very moment Lisa seems about to collide with the tank, the blue light flashes into a rectangular doorway, immediately turning back into the fish tank after she passes through. I lie here in amazement. What did she say? You’ve been asleep for a long time. How long?

2050 was the last year I remember. I look at the doorway.

That has to be some sort of hologram, I say aloud.

Startled by the sound of my own voice, I jump a little bit then laugh out loud. It hurts my throat, but it’s a relief to be able to speak. I try to move my right arm again. I start by wiggling my fingers, then I flex my hand. I slowly raise my forearm up and back down. Now my left—moving seems to be getting easier. I wiggle my toes under the blanket and move my feet. The sensation is strange. I feel pins and needles like my legs have fallen asleep, only different. I lift both arms and look them over. I expect them to be shriveled and atrophied, but to my surprise, I appear to have lost no muscle size or tone. How is this possible if I’ve been bedridden for any length of time? Curious, I slip both hands under the blanket and feel my body and legs. Everything seems normal; I flex my quadriceps, they feel strong. I need to talk to Lisa.

As soon as that thought enters my mind, I hear, I’ll be with you in a minute Mr. Walker.

Wow, that’s weird; it’s almost like she read my mind. The fish tank flashes, startling me, and Lisa walks in.

I’m sorry, Mr. Walker, I didn’t mean to startle you.

Yes, that will take some getting used to.

Go ahead and ask any questions you may have.

I have so many, I don’t know where to start.

Well, you had a horse-riding accident in the spring of 2050.

How is it that I have no muscle atrophy?

That’s the first question you have? Lisa queries laughingly.

Ha, ha, that does seem like an odd thing to wonder at this point.

Lisa looks at me with a sort of compassion I wouldn’t expect from someone I just met. It makes me take a real look at her. She is a most striking woman—tall with long blond hair up in a bun, beautiful baby blue eyes, and even though she is wearing loose-fitting lavender scrubs, I can tell she has a slender athletic build, nice tits too. I wonder what her ass looks like.

That too is very nice, Mr. Walker. Now focus!

Holy shit! Did you just read my mind?

Yes, Mr. Walker, she responds bluntly, with a stern look on her face.

What fucking year is this! I exclaim, feeling sick to my stomach.

It’s 2569, she says with that compassionate look on her face again, and please refrain from swearing.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh fucking shit! What fucking month is this?

It’s March 12th.

Goddammit! I’m 574 fucking years old! What happened to my wife? My heart feels like it’s about to explode in my chest.

She passed in 2076.

Holy shit, everything I’ve ever known is gone. Why the fuck did you revive me!

Mr. Walker, please stop swearing. The president ordered your reanimation.

President! President of what? Oh, I’m feeling sick.

The President of the URA, Lisa looks at me with curiosity in her eyes.

Holy shit, it’s still a nation after 521 years!

Ha, ha, yes, Mr. Walker, even after all this time. What you helped build is still standing strong, she giggles with a spritely look on her face.

Who is the President?

William Joseph Glenn.

How is he related to the President Glenn of my time?

She looks at me in bewilderment. He is the President Glenn of your time.

I stare at her in stunned silence.

Are you okay, Mr. Walker? She looks at me with raised eyebrows.

No! No, I’m not fucking okay!

Please, there is no need to raise your voice and swear.

Are you fucking kidding me, then what on God’s green earth would justify someone to raise their voice and swear?

Nothing should warrant such behavior, Mr. Walker. One should have more self-control.

You said reanimated. Was I dead?

No, Mr. Walker, you were cryogenically preserved.

Why?

Your wife Sharon signed the order for your preservation for future reanimation because your injuries were too severe for medical treatment of the time.

I don’t remember any such program.

It was a top-secret experimental program. President Glenn offered the option to your wife.

What were my injuries?

When you were ejected from your horse, you fell headlong into an exposed boulder. You suffered a depressed cranial fracture, a basilar fracture, and your C1 and C2 vertebrae were crushed. If you had regained consciousness, you would have been paralyzed from the neck down. If President Glenn hadn’t been riding with you that day, you would have perished.

Thinking back, I begin to remember that day. Billy Joe and I were taking a long-needed mini vacation on the ranch. I see the vision in my mind.

Enoch, don’t let that fresh son-of-a-gun buck your ass off today!

Billy Joe, this horse ain’t near broncy enough to buck my ass off.

Old man, you ain’t near the bronc rider you used to be!

Damn, if he wasn’t right.

I can see you have a very tender place in your heart for President Glenn, Lisa says, grinning. I’ve never heard anyone call him Billy Joe.

Hell, everyone who knew him called him Billy Joe. Is there any way I can get you to stop reading my mind?

No, actually, all genetically engineered humans born in the last two hundred years are telepathic. Through years of meditation, advanced practitioners are capable of preventing others from seeing our thoughts. However, I do not believe you have the mental capacity to learn that skill.

Okay, well, thanks. I guess I’ll never be the smartest person in the room ever again. I need a break. I also need to piss. Can you get me a urinal, please?

You need to get up and try your legs.

Really, already?

Yes, let me help you to the restroom.

Lisa grabs a belt from a rack on the wall by the head of the bed. She comes over to me and pulls me into a sitting position with my legs dangling off the right side of the bed. She leans into me, placing the belt tightly around my waist. I smell her sweet flowery scent, Lilac, maybe. Seeing her this close, I cannot believe how beautiful she is. Her features are perfectly symmetrical, and her skin is smooth and completely blemish-free. As I look into her beautiful baby blue eyes, I can feel the blood rushing to my member. She buckles the belt and grabs it firmly.

Okay, Mr. Walker, I want you to lock your fingers together behind my neck. I’ll hold onto the belt and slowly drag you off the bed while you put your feet down on the floor. Then we will steady ourselves on our feet before we try to walk. By the way, were all the men of your era incapable of controlling their sexual urges?

I don’t know what you mean, I say coyly while clasping my hands behind her neck.

She smiles, On three—one, two, three.

She pulls me toward her, and I slide off the bed. We’re now standing here, face to face, with my arms around her neck while she is holding me by the belt. Man, she is good-looking. I look down at my legs only to see my gown pushed out by my raging hard-on. I laugh out loud.

Well, I’m glad ‘that’ still works, I laugh. Embarrassed and not knowing what to say.

Okay, Mr. Walker, I want you to let go with your left hand and turn to face the bathroom while still supporting yourself on me with your right.

I drop my left arm and turn. I feel good, seemingly steady.

Now, we will step together, starting with your left foot. On my count.

With my right arm still across the back of her neck, Lisa holds my right forearm with her right hand while grabbing the belt behind me with her left.

One, we step, two, we step. As she starts to say three, my right knee buckles. I expect to crash to the floor, but to my surprise, Lisa is standing there like an oak tree, holding all my weight.

Get your legs back under you, Mr. Walker.

I regain my balance, Damn, woman, you are strong.

Yes, Mr. Walker, all GABS are much stronger than the humans of your time.

As we proceed to the bathroom, I ask, What are GABS?

Genetically Altered Beings. It’s the acronym we use for ourselves.

Damn, this is going to get weird!

Chapter 2

LIVE LONG AND PROSPER

A

s I wake up, I open one eye to see if it’s real or a dream. Yep, it’s real, and I really have to piss. Supper was excellent last night. Bone-in ribeye, cooked to perfection, [just a little bloody], loaded baked potato, and green beans flavored with bacon and onion. It’s my favorite meal. I wonder how they knew, ha, ha. To top it off, freshly baked shortcake, covered in sweetened strawberries and real whipped cream. I’m glad they can still cook, so I don’t have to live off some futuristic, laboratory concocted, astronaut shit.

All I’ve done since waking up yesterday is sleep and eat. I don’t even know what time it is, early morning maybe. It’s hard to tell without a clock or any windows. Lisa left me with Jackie for the night. She said her name is Jacqueline, but I like Jackie better.

She, too, is a beautiful woman—dark tan skin, long raven hair, deep brown come-fuck-me eyes, and a killer body. I swear, if all the women here are like this, I’ll have a constant hard-on for the rest of my life. Oh, there’s the fish tank again.

Good morning Mr. Walker! Jackie exclaims with her hands on her hips.

Good morning, I guess. I can’t tell what time it is. All I know is I woke up, and I really need to use the restroom. By the way, will you please call me Enoch?

Okay, Enoch, may I ask you a favor of you as well?

Sure, anything for a woman as lovely as you.

I understand that you are from a barbaric time in history, but will you please refrain from having sexual fantasies about me, or Lisa, or any of the women you may encounter.

Damn, I’ll try, but it’s going to be hard, though, I say while looking down at my crotch.

Jackie heaves a disgusted breath, You are impossible. You should be able to make it to the restroom unassisted now, she says as she looks at me, repulsed. Please try, and I’ll assist you if necessary.

Okay, I’ll try, but does it have to be so dark in here?

We have converted the lights to be voice-activated for you. She looks at me with raised eyebrows with a well, I’m waiting look on her face.

Illuminate! I yell. Nothing happens.

Lights on, Jackie says.

The room lights up as if noon on a summer’s day.

Oh, shit, that’s bright! I yell while covering my eyes.

Dim lights, Jackie quietly whispers.

As the light gradually lessens, Jackie says, Stop.

Enoch, that’s how you use voice control. If you wish to hold a device at a particular setting, just say ‘set’ immediately after giving the stop command. If you want to change a setting, just say ‘reset’ after you’ve turned a device on.

Okay, I think I get it, I say while condescendingly rolling my eyes.

I sit up and hang my legs off the side of the bed. I feel much stronger than yesterday. I put my hands on either side of my legs, palms down on the bed. I push off and slide down the side of the bed until my feet touch the floor. The floor is cold under my feet. I push off the bed into a standing position. I look at Jackie and nod with a massive grin on my face.

See, you are doing very well, now walk away. Jackie waves underhanded at me as if to usher me on.

I confidently walk the five steps to the bathroom, turn and say, See, nothing to it. Then I walk in and close the door.

When I come out of the restroom, Jackie is gone. I walk over to the fish tank, expecting it to turn into a door. Nothing happens, just these stupid holographic fish looking at me, judging me. I reach to touch what appears to be the glass.

Ow, shit, that hurt!

It’s some sort of force field, with quite a sting. Okay, I’m a prisoner.

You are not a prisoner, Mr. Walker. It’s Lisa’s voice. It’s there for your protection.

I realize her voice is not being broadcast in the room.

Shit, she’s in my head.

Yes, Mr. Walker, I’m in your head, and it’s a terrifying place.

Ha, ha, very funny, she’s got jokes too.

Holy shit, I need a tinfoil hat or something.

Lisa walks in through the fish tank.

I Need to see a Doctor. Why haven’t I seen a Doctor yet! I demand out of frustration.

Lisa gives me a look of disgust. Mr. Walker, both Jacqueline and I are physicians. We are normally President Glenn’s personal physicians, but we have been charged to your care.

Oh, I apologize, ‘Dr. Lisa,’ why didn’t you introduce yourself as ‘Dr. Lisa?’ I ask mockingly.

In this day and age, we try to be humble. Titles can make a person feel superior to others. In this Republic, we are all equal in the eyes of God. Our whole society rests on benevolence and gratitude. Because of our clairvoyance, we all know who one another are, so titles aren’t necessary. I apologize; there was no way for you to know.

Is President Glenn planning on paying me a visit?

Yes, however, he wants you to get acclimated to and informed about this modern age. He has had a presentation prepared for you. You are welcome to view it at your leisure.

Okay, how do I do that?

I’m sorry, Jacqueline led me to believe that she explained to you how to use our devices.

T.V. on! I yell, nothing happens.

Viewer on, Dr. Lisa says calmly.

To my amazement, a 3D image appears in front of me, just past the foot of the bed. It’s a green block letter logo that is spinning slowly in a circle.

THE UNITED REPUBLIC OF AMERICA

IN GOD WE TRUST

Play hello, Enoch, Dr. Lisa commands.

Billy Joe appears in front of me as if he were actually in the room. He would be 548 years old; he looks to be about 40.

Pause, Dr. Lisa commands. There it is. You may command it as you wish now. Breakfast will be here in five minutes. She turns and walks out through the fish tank.

Wow, how strange all this is. Oh, what about Sharon? We had only married for two years. I can only imagine how overwhelmed she must have been after my accident.

I wonder what they told Billie Jean. I Don’t blame her for divorcing me after discovering how I deceived her and what I did to Zeke, her only baby. It was top secret, though, and for the greater good.

Dr. Lisa pops through the fish tank. Here’s your breakfast Mr. Walker.

Please call me Enoch, Dr. Lisa.

Okay, Enoch. Please, just call me Lisa.

Billy Joe is still standing there, staring at me. I don’t want him there looking at me all breakfast long.

Viewer off, I say. He immediately disappears. Lisa pushes the tray stand over my lap after raising the head of the bed. The breakfast looks good. There is coffee, orange juice, and a small bowl of oatmeal with half and half. Then there are two eggs over easy, four slices of hickory smoked bacon, and two pieces of whole-wheat toast with real butter and peach preserves.

Wow, I can’t believe people still eat like this.

Well, Enoch, not all people do. We are trying to make your experience here as pleasant as possible.

Reaching back with my right hand, I feel the back of my neck. There is about a six-inch scar, starting just above the base of my skull and extending down the middle of my spine.

Lisa, did you perform my surgeries?

No, Enoch, those procedures were so delicate, there was no room for error. All your procedures were done through robotics by our very best surgeons.

I’d like for you to go into detail about my recovery some time.

Yes, we can do that soon. For now, eat your breakfast before it gets cold.

I watch Lisa leave the room. Damn, that is a nice ass. I wonder how I could have recovered so quickly. I dip my toast into the soft yolk, sopping up the rich yellowy goodness. Every time I do this, I think of my mother. That’s how she used to eat her eggs. I wish I’d had more time with her. Losing her at fourteen made life harder than it should have been. Dad was tough on me after that, but it made me strong. I think he knew that if he didn’t keep me in line and busy, I would have let my sorrow get the best of me and lead me down the wrong path. Getting my high school diploma at sixteen and then my engineering degree at twenty didn’t give me a chance to fuck my life off like some of my friends did.

I’m glad I decided to work construction after college. Getting that hands-on experience made me a much better engineer. I wouldn’t have met Billie Jean if not for that time. Damn, she was beautiful. She had soft mocha skin, long wavy light brown hair, and beautiful hazel eyes with a glimmer of mischievousness in them. Her smile, with those full luscious lips, would melt any heart or light up any room. And that body, my god, it put any Victoria’s Secret model to shame.

They made the waitresses wear tank-tops and short-shorts there at the Do Drop Inn, just south of Plano. I remember the first time she spoke to me. We were passing each other as I walked into the bar that Friday after work. I stopped in my tracks and turned completely around, staring.

Hey cowboy, you better put them eyes back in that head and close that mouth, or you’re gonna catch flies.

She grinned, then winked, and I knew right then and there, I was going to make her mine for the rest of my life. How wrong I was, how foolish. Sharon was good to me, but she knew I would always be in love with Billy Jean. I always will be. Fish tank again; that damn thing gets me every time.

How was your breakfast? Lisa asks cheerfully while collecting my tray.

My compliments to the chef.

President Glenn wants your reanimation to be kept top-secret on a need-to-know basis. Does that answer your question?

Next time, please let me ask the question. I like keeping my verbal skills in good working order, but yes, I was wondering why I’ve only seen two people. Do GABS still talk to one another?

We do, but it’s more for recreation. We enjoy talking at social events or in intimate moments. Verbal communication is too slow and cumbersome any other time, so we hardly ever speak while doing work.

While she’s talking, I notice how efficiently she moves around the room: cleaning, changing the bedding, filling my water, all at a vigorous pace.

Why do you move so fast? Do you have other duties to perform besides taking care of me?

Yes, I do have many things to do, but we all like to move at an invigorating pace when performing our work. It makes it easier to keep on task, and we take pride in all we do.

Who are ‘we?’

Citizens, the people of our country. You should watch the presentation. I think you will be delighted with how well your program has helped us realize your vision, even surpassing it.

Just out of curiosity, do all GABS live extended life spans?

Yes, all born in the last two hundred years.

I probably shouldn’t ask, but how old are you and Jackie? If I had to guess, I’d say thirty or so.

Ha, ha, well, Jacqueline is one hundred thirty-one, and I am one hundred fifty-six.

Damn, what is your expected life span?

With modern medicine, it could be indefinitely. No citizen has died of what you would call ‘natural causes’ in over a hundred years.

Will I be able to see daylight soon? I’m feeling trapped.

Soon, I think. We are supposed to contact President Glenn immediately after you watch the presentation.

Okay, I will.

As Lisa walks out of the room, I ponder what she said, surpassed my vision, oh how I hope It’s true. It was a bold step, but mankind needed a boost into the future. We knew something had to change.

Viewer on.

Welcome, Enoch.

There before me stands William Joseph Glenn, with a cascade of shimmering green light around him. He was a mischievous boy, always egging Ezekiel on, usually with Zeke catching most of the punishment. His dad Garret and I were best friends. Both of our son’s middle names were Joseph, named after my father.

Both of our boys were born in March of 2021, products of the Stargazer project. The first group of thirty children genetically engineered for life in space. They were resistant to space radiation, genius, athletic, and almost uncontrollable. I didn’t know they would have an extended life span, though. I wonder if they all did.

Play, I command.

Billy Joe smiles that cat that ate the canary smile of his.

"Hello, you old mule skinner, I bet you’re ready to tan my hide. I don’t blame you. I’m sure this is quite a shock to your system. Maybe almost as much as me seeing you fly headfirst into that rock. Damn near had a heart attack. Don’t blame Sharon. I’m the one who convinced her to let me freeze you like an old catfish.

Ha, ha, I still remember the time that hard freeze came late one spring. Me and Zeke had thrown a mess of catfish in that old tank by the barn the day before, and that next morning they were frozen in a block of ice. We both figured they were dead. Two days later, Zeke walks over to see and says, ‘Come look at this shit Billy Joe!’. Hell, they were all swimming around like nothing ever happened.

Anyway, I hope you can forgive me. I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you too. You were the last family I had left. I’m going to let the narrators take over now. See you on the flip side, ole pard."

A stunning redhead appears before me in a cream-colored pantsuit. She is walking down a long hallway. On the walls are portraits depicting what I assume are different points in history.

Hello Enoch, I’m Ann. I’ll be your guide through our history after your accident.

She walks up to the first portrait. It shows the main house where I lived as the director of the New Public Works project. Established after the Second Civil War of 2046, between the Freemen and the Democratic Socialist Party. President Glenn had commissioned me to run the project. I tried to argue, but he insisted. He always got his way.

Ann: This, as you know, is the Kindle House. Director Jacobson assumed your duties, with the specific instructions to ‘Maintain your vision,’ and run the New Public Works program ‘with your spirit.’

Ann waves her hand at the portrait. It suddenly animates and pans out. Jake Jacobson is standing there talking to Manuel Cisneros, the supervisor of logistics [the last I knew]. The scene pans out farther, showing the hundreds of people working on the farm. I remember the struggle to motivate all of these urban people to learn how to farm and accept a new way of living.

Male narrator: Our leaders knew that people living in urban areas had lost touch with reality. They realized the necessity for human beings to be close to the land, to be grounded, and have a better understanding of the rudimentary struggles of life. The people were trained and sent to start communal farms in those urban areas. The people living in these communities are required to work on these farms. To help grow, raise, and harvest their own food and the food of their neighbors.

Ann walks to the next image, depicting the construction of the elevated roadway project across Yellowstone, from Billings to Idaho falls. The plan was to elevate all major roadways, especially in wildlife areas. The Yellowstone By-way was the first project. We figured if we could engineer the EL across that wilderness, we could complete any challenge.

Ann: This project was completed ahead of schedule using NPW manpower. She waves her hand at the image as it comes to life.

Male narrator: Our leader’s plan was to use NPW workers to provide manpower for infrastructure projects across the country. Here, we see NPW workers employed by the contractor for this portion of the ‘EL’ across Yellowstone—Mountain Contractors Incorporated.

Ann walks to the next portrait. It shows the outside of a hospital. This is Via Christy Hospital in Wichita. She waves again, and there is a ‘Point of View’ scene showing someone walking down a hallway and entering a hospital room. It shows a pair of smiling parents with the mom holding a newborn baby. Just look at this happy couple.

Male narrator: "By contract, all participants in the NPW program must agree to be sterilized. Couples may apply to their community board for permission to have a child. If they can prove their readiness to raise a child, they may be granted special consideration. This is the first baby born under the new