Post Nuclear 2 - Please Could I Have Some More?

Gordon had been working in the warehouse for six months, driving a goods van along a deserted road 3 times a day and filling it with cardboard boxes of tinned meat and vegetables. He had brought the van back to the warehouse, unloading all the boxes from it by hand into the hall, where others would come and take them away. The other people left it to Gordon to drive the van, to load it and to unload it, while they operated the trolleys and lifted the boxes up the step ladders, a job that Gordon refused to do because each sortie with the van took him an hour and a half. He had already done half a day's work and doubted that anyone else in the warehouse did any more than that. No one was around. No one would notice if he left a few boxes in the van. One box contained 50 tins of stewing steak, another a similar quantity of potatoes, and the third box, mushy peas. No one would notice if Gordon popped out for half an hour to deliver them to the community centre where his family would be having dinner that evening.

A couple of hours later Gordon sat in the warehouse drinking his final cup of bitter tasting economy coffee with unhealthy coffee whitener while he read New World News on his mobile phone. No one complained about the frivolous use of company time. People respected Gordon because he drove the van. He worked harder than most of the others. Gordon finished his shift and walked to the community centre, a converted 40 year old bus, where he would have dinner with his family. There was a huge air of excitement in the bus.
"Steak, chips and mushy peas," one of Anna's friends said excitedly. "Where did these come from?"
"Gordon brought them from the warehouse," said Anna. Anna was now employed as a domestic. She was standing in the improvised kitchen behind the counter, slicing the tinned potatoes into thin circles and frying them in a frying pan with margarine. This was the best food anyone had had for a long time.

The next day Gordon arrived at work at half past eight, before anyone else. A policeman and a police woman were waiting for him beside the main door signposted reception.
"What did you do?" asked the policeman.
"Some boxes of food got left in the van and forgotten about at the end of the day."
"Oh, and how did that happen? Who forgot them?"
"I did. I took them to the community centre."
"They weren't supposed to be in the community centre," said the policewoman. "If you remove something from work and take it home with you, that's stealing."
"Is it?"
"You'll get a court summons," said the policeman. "The magistrate will contact you in 3 months time."
"That'll be a letter," said the policewoman. "Expect a letter from the magistrate." Colin arrived at work. The two police officers followed Colin into his office. Colin should have sacked Gordon on the spot but had no intention of doing so. There were only two people in the warehouse who knew how to drive a big van. Colin was manager of the warehouse. Wasn't that enough responsibility already? If he had to drive the van as well, he'd have to work a 45 hour week. Colin had no intention of working harder than anybody else in the whole warehouse had ever worked. What was the point in making an effort if you got paid the same tiny wage no matter what? The two police officers left. Colin came out of the office and looked at Gordon.
"I know why it happened," said Colin. "Just don't do it again, or they'll all want to take a box home with them."
"The police said I'll be hearing from the magistrate."
"It's out of my hands."
"Do you think the magistrate will send me to prison?"
"Maybe. That steak was £3 a tin. How many tins did you steal?"

A few months later, Gordon sat with his wife in the magistrate's court in Barnsley. The taxi was waiting outside.
"That food was intended to be eaten if the rye harvest failed," said the middle aged woman magistrate who wore a red cloak and wig, as if she were a high court judge. "You stole food from the mouths of starving children."
"My children ate it, and they're just as starving as anyone else's children."
"Our diet contains all essential nutrients."
"No it doesn't. Before the war the recommended calorie intake was 2,000 calories a day for men and 1,800 calories for women."
"Our founders said you only need 500 calories a day."
"Our founders were wrong."
"Wrong? Wrong? You think our founders were wrong?"
"Osteoporosis had been almost eliminated by 2060. It was a disease of the past. Now it's coming back again. Old people have brittle bones again. Look, I know food is in short supply and it has to be rationed but think of all the food there is in that warehouse. Couldn't we all have steak and chips once a month?"
"We must make sure we have sufficient provision for an extended period of harvest failure. The rye harvest might fail for 2 years."
"Couldn't we just have steak and chips on Messiah Daniel Moses' birthday?"
"Mux Swift," said the magistrate, as nobody really used the sexist words Mr and Mrs anymore, "Mux Swift, you have absolutely nothing to say in your defense and you have accused the founders of making an error of judgement in their knowledge of nutrition. Please calm down and say no more, lest you incriminate yourself even further. I have no hesitation in passing the maximum sentence I can pass for this crime. 3 years hard labour in a re-education camp."
"Can I go home and say goodbye to my children and pack a little suitcase?"
"No you can't. You're going to prison. You're going there right now. Take him down." Two men in uniform handcuffed Gordon and led him out of the court. Anna returned to the taxi.
"Only one of you coming back?" asked the taxi driver.
"My husband's gone to prison," said Anna.
"Oh dear. I'm sorry to hear that. £30 please."

The black prison van drove hundreds of miles along the completely deserted roads. At least it felt like hundreds of miles. The journey was certainly several hours. None of the men spoke. They were all in the same state of shock and fear. They came to a farm. A large number of men and women in uniform opened the doors of the van and handcuffed the men, leading them into the farmhouse. The handcuffs were removed when they were all in the farmhouse kitchen. The officers left, locking the door of the farmhouse behind them. A middle aged man sat at a dining table. He wore a thick woolly jumper that had a few holes in it.
"Hello, I'm Brian, I'm the farmer," he said. "Sit down, everybody. Hard labour here is an absolute doddle. Honestly, it's not too bad, or I wouldn't do it myself. Those magistrates are giving everybody long sentences. Nobody wants to work on the farms. They've got millions of people in prison. That's the only way we have any food. Now I expect plenty of hard work from you when there's work to be done but if it's the middle of December and there's nothing to do, two of you can milk the cows and the rest can have a lie in, I don't mind. Harvest time and lambing season, we all have to work, but it's not so bad the rest of the time. We've got enough people. Now, I'm sure you'd all appreciate a cheese burger and a bowl of soup after such a long journey." They all ate together. After the meal they went and sat by the roaring log fire in the lounge. The men were still very quiet and not really talking to each other. It had been an extraordinary day. An old man in a grey suit came in and sat in a big armchair in the centre of the room.
"My name is Elliott Young," he said. "This is a re-education camp. I am your tutor." He turned to look at one of the men. "Why are you here?"
"I'd rather not say."
"That's fine. You don't have to tell me. We are all here for the same reason."
"I'm here because I borrowed a van from work and went for a trip to the coast on a sunny day," said one of the men.
"We are all here for the same reason."
"I'm here because I stole some food from a warehouse," said Gordon.
"We are all here for the same reason."
"I'm here because I punched someone in the street," said another man.
"We are all here for the same reason." There was a long silence. Gordon thought he would try to answer the teacher's hidden question.
"Are we all here because we have neglected the teaching of our founders and Messiah Daniel Moses?"
"Yes. That's what I'm getting at. We have neglected the teaching of our founders. We no longer cherish it. We no longer study it. I'm very concerned that, since the war ended, this country has become a secular state. The majority of people no longer know what our founders taught or fully understand why they believed it. School RE lessons are optional now. They used to be compulsory. People don't spend the whole day in church on the Sabbath anymore. They go for a walk in the woods. You only get occasional words of wisdom from the Blessed Messiah on New World News. You don't get hour long lectures anymore. People are forgetting the teachings of our founders. Their words should be a light to your path and a lantern to your feet. And if you learn nothing else at all here, you will study the teachings of our founders and of Messiah Daniel Moses like no one has ever studied them before." Elliott had a big box full of books by his armchair. "Now, I'm going to give each of you a copy of this book. I'm going to give you a physical hardback copy and not just email you an electronic copy. If people have an electronic copy of a book they will read it only once. I want this book to be kept beside your bed. I want this book to be your companion. I want you to read it every 3 months. Those of you who are here for a long sentence could read it 10 or 20 times. Then you will understand it. The book is the history of The Children of The Latter Day Christ. Peace In Our Hearts." Everybody came and took a copy of the book.

The television screen, when it was switched off, looked like a painting on the wall. The painting of small boats moored in a seaside village suddenly became the face of Messiah Daniel Moses. Elliott paused the picture.
"He's our Great Leader. Show him some respect. Lie prostrate on the floor." The men lay down on their fronts. It was a cold, hard floor with ceramic tiles. Worshiping the Messiah in this way hurt. "That's right, honour him. Some of you have never honoured him in your lives." Daniel Moses began speaking.
"People ask me why they should deprive themselves of legitimate pleasures. In a perfect world, full of perfect human beings, some pleasures would be perfectly legitimate and perfectly all right. If Adam and Eve had never sinned, we could enjoy these things with innocence. But because we are all born of such sinful ancestors, the original sin in us is very strong. We must be very careful what temptations we allow ourselves, of how we deal with seemingly harmless pleasures in our weakened fallen state. If people have too much food, they will become addicted to it. They will be unable to stop eating and they will become overweight. So food must be kept to the minimum level necessary for health and life. If we have too much money, money will become our idol. We will worship it."
"Sounds all right to me," shouted one of the men.
"There'll be an extension to anyone's sentence if they don't pass the multiple choice on this module," Elliott shouted, hitting the pause button again. He looked at the man who had made the remark. "You could spend the rest of your life on this farm." Daniel Moses began speaking again.
"We will forget God and live to accumulate. Our whole life will be about how much money we can earn, how much of it we can save and all the things we can enjoy with our money. So money must be kept to the minimum level necessary for health and life." The sermon ended. The screen returned to a painting of small boats in a village harbour. Gordon decided to make a contribution to the discussion.
"I think that the world was really poor because there had been a terrible war and a religion like that was what people needed." Elliott looked at Gordon with a concerned expression on his face.
"Oh dear, young man, you're not here to think."