Chapter 147

“Not because of me. I’m just one person in a large group of people who said that they weren't going to stand by and watch the world crumble the way that it was. We weren’t going to let men be abused and women be lied to.”
“You did this!” White shouted, her eyes full of rage. “You! We all know that. You initiated the signal that started the Rebellion. You made your way to Quebec and convinced the largest, most powerful nation in the world to attack us, and now, you are leading the attack on the building that contains all of our secrets. Rain, you can deny it all you want to, but I know that you’re the one who has done all of this. I know! Maybe no one else does, but I do!
Whether the woman was attempting to make her angry by spouting such misinformation about her or if she was just out of her mind, Rain couldn’t say, but she knew one thing for sure--the Rebellion would’ve happened whether she was a part of it or not.
“Maybe it makes you feel better when you close your eyes at night to think that there’s just one person who you can blame for this, but you’re wrong. You can kill me, but that won’t stop the Rebellion. I think you know that already.”
Somewhere in the building, a large explosion boomed, rocking the floor and making the lights flicker for a moment, everything except for The Bridge. A few pieces of white debris fell from the ceiling.
As if the bomb was meant to punctuate her sentence, Rain continued, her chin in the air. “You can kill me, but you can’t stop what’s happening. Michaelanburg will fall, whether I’m alive or not. If you want to die along with the nation that you love, then so be it. I am more than happy to be the one to sink a bullet in your forehead.”
The smirk that appeared on Mother White’s face wasn’t a surprise to Rain. She fully expected the Mother to have that sort of a reaction. Of course, she would laugh at the idea that her beloved Motherhood was falling apart. After all, she was delusional, and people like her were seldom capable of seeing the world for what it really was.
So her next words caught Rain off guard completely.
“I don’t think you can kill me, Rain.”
Puzzled, Rain studied her face for a moment. “What are you talking about? I’d happily kill you right now and then dance on top of your limp body.”
Mother White laughed. Adam’s hands were wrapped around her arm, and as she jostled him, he flinched as if every jerk of her body left him in pain. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, little girl.”
“Little girl? You can call me whatever you want to, but I assure you, a little girl I am not.”
“You will always be one to me,” she commented, taking a few more steps toward The Bridge.
Once again, Rain found herself confused. She took a few steps, too, not closer because it was clear that White didn’t mind hurting Adam, and if she was to approach them, Mother White would most certainly put a bullet in his head. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on, Rain! You know, don’t you? I think you do. I know that you’ve seen the resemblance, that you’ve looked into my eyes and noticed similarities that cannot be a coincidence. You’re a smart girl. You don’t need me to tell you what you already know.”
Rain swallowed hard, not sure what she was getting at, but her words were alarming. Shaking her head, she said, “No, White, I don’t have any idea what the hell you’re talking about.”
White’s smile broadened. “You should be calling me Mother.”
“I refuse to recognize the Motherhood, so I will not call you Mother--White.” She emphasized that last word to drive home the response.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
Adam was clawing at her arm again, trying to keep himself upright. His mouth was moving--he wanted her to leave.
Rain couldn’t concentrate on Adam at the moment, though. What Mother White was getting at was finally starting to make sense to her.
She remembered seeing her that day in the hallway and immediately thinking that there was something different about this particularly Military Mother. She’d always been unsettled around all of them, but from her very first glimpse of Mother White, she’d known there was something even more menacing about this particular Mother.
But it seemed impossible. How could she know? Rain’s understanding was that there was truly no way to know the information Mother White was proposing she knew. If the records were closed to everyone, and all of the information one would need was written in numerical code that would be impossible to decipher.
Her name wasn’t actually Rain, after all. Not when it came to the official records of the Motherhood. Her given name wasn’t any more personal than the names the Dicks were given. Adam’s wasn’t just 24C. It was much longer than that, but he’d been called 24C by the Mothers because they didn’t care to give him a name. Giving him a name might make them feel that he was a person, and it would be more difficult for anyone with even the hint of a heart to treat a real person the way the Dicks were treated. Depersonalizing it by giving them a series of numbers and letters made it so all of them could sleep at night.
But the women deserved a little more care than the Dicks. After all, the women needed to be brainwashed and made to believe that the Motherhood was the most important thing in the world. She couldn’t possibly learn to trust the elders that were indoctrinating her if they referred to her as 8,253,309, which was her given name. Rain Gretchintown was a persona she’d adapted to. To the Mothers, she was just as inconsequential as the men, once she failed to believe in their cause.
So… Mother White, who was also just a series of numbers on paper, was trying to tell her that somehow she’d deciphered the code and come to the conclusion that at some point, she’d mounted a nameless Dick and became impregnated. Then, the fetus was removed from her womb and placed in a glastic incubator for nine months, watched over by medics who did what they could to ensure that the fetus thrived and wouldn’t have to be carried over The Bridge like so many other fetuses.
Once the fetus reached the age of maturity, she was removed from the incubator and given a number. Then, she was taken to the nursery, assigned a house, and given an appropriate name. In this case, the house had been Weatherhouse--and the name she’d been given, chosen off of a list of names that were rotated through by generation--was Rain.
Shaking her head, Rain said, “You can’t possibly know that.”
“Of course I can, Rain. I am the second highest ranking Mother in the nation, behind President Violet.”
Rain didn’t think that was true. What about the Vice-President and the cabinet members? She was still shaking her head, but tears began to fill her eyes.
“You know what I’m telling you is the truth, Rain. You know that it is! Or should I call you 8,253,309? My real name is 8,187,486. White Gretchintown. From Colorhouse. And you, Rain, are my daughter.”