Chapter Twenty-Two

In which our heroine learns way too much about the enclaves of the CCSA.

“Oh, there are lots more enclaves,” Ren said. “I don’t know about weirder —"

“The golf enclave!” Stimpy said, “where they worship Donald Trump.”

“I thought he died a long time ago.”

“Maybe he did,” Stimpy crooned spookily. “Or maybe that’s just what they want you to think.”

“Well then how about Little Harlem?” Lorinda said. “Is that an enclave?”

Ren shook his head. “No. It’s Confederal. The government built it and maintains it. The whole point of enclaves is, they’re private property.”

“And they force the people in Little Harlem to live there?” Lorinda said. “Wait a minute. What about ‘freedom’?”

“AHA!” Stimpy shouted. “DING! WE HAVE A WINNER.”

Lorinda tried to metabolize this information. They drove in silence for a minute. Finally, Ren said, “There’s also the conspiracy-theory enclave. Zone Z.”

“There’s Saucerville,” Stimpy said. “People who say they’ve seen UFO’s. Or been abducted by them.”

“It’s not called that anymore,” Ren said. “Last year they split into two. Now it’s called SaucerWorld, and the other one is called Reptilopolis. Folks who think that Lizard People live inside the Earth.”

“The Rapture enclave,” said Stimpy.

“I’ve heard of that,” said Lorinda, “but I didn’t know it was called an enclave.”

“But which Rapture enclave?” Ren said. “There are three of them. Oh, and there’s Civitas Dei. For Catholics.”

“Wait,” Lorinda said. “I thought all the Catholics moved to the USA.”

“Oh come on!” Stimpy exploded. “There are still Catholics here. And Jews. And Muslims. And Blacks and Latinos and everything else. Not everybody who wanted to was able to emigrate.”

“Okay!” Lorinda said. “Sorry! But … can I ask a question?”

“What.”

“Are Catholics Christians?”

Stimpy took his hands off the wheel to slap his thighs in frustration. Ren said, “It depends on who you ask. Ask Ollie Waldrip and he’d probably say no. Ask me, or any other sane person: Yes, of course. They believe in Jesus, they’re Christians.”

The drove in silence for a few seconds. Finally, sounding apologetic and conciliatory, Stimpy said, “Oh, and there’s Football Freehold. You can imagine what that’s like.”

“And The State of Swing,” Ren said.

“State of Swing?” Lorinda was lost.

“Everyone there is married, but they have sex with everyone else,” Stimpy said. “I think you get arrested if you refuse.”

“Ick,” said Lorinda. “Don’t they get …?”

“Yeah,” said Stimpy. “The hospital there is very busy. If there’s any venereal-disease research done in this country, that’s where they do it.”

“The UnVirs sued to be allowed in there,” Ren said.

Lorinda was utterly confused. “He just said you had to be married to live there.”

“You do.” Ren said. He was trying to play it straight, and suppress his laughter. It wasn’t easy.

“But,” Lorinda said, “I thought the UnVirs were all men. Aren’t they?”

“Yup.”

“So —”

“Two of them tried to marry each other so they could live there,” Ren said.

“But … that’s illegal.”

“Uh huh,” Stimpy said.

“So, wait.” Lorinda rubbed her eyes, as though that would help. “Two straight guys …who can’t get laid … wanted to be able to marry each other … so they could live in an enclave full of married straight couples … so they could have sex with other men’s wives?”

“You got it,” Stimpy said.

“And that … worked?”

“I said they sued,” Ren said. “I didn’t say they won.”

As Lorinda silently nodded in amazement, Stimpy added, “Then they tried to start their own enclave. Which is even more stupid, if you can believe it. If your whole raison d’être is to complain that you can’t get laid, why would you want to be surrounded by other guys with the same problem?”

“Maybe complaining is the point,” Lorinda said.

There followed a thoughtful silence as the two men traded approving nods at Lorinda’s contribution.

“And then there’s Noah’s Ark,” said Ren. “They have the world’s largest petting zoo. Or they say they do.” He looked at his partner. “Is the Penal Colony an enclave?”

“It’s privately owned,” said Stimpy, “so yeah. They have a really popular theme park. People get to pretend they’re in jail. You can book a cell for the night. And they have the Museum of Punishment.”

“Okay, that I know about,” Lorinda said. “My seventh-grade teacher talked about it. People go there to … I don’t know … experience something bad so they can value their freedom when they get out.” She sighed. “That’s what she said, anyway. I always thought it sounded like hitting yourself in the head with a hammer because it felt good when you stopped. But I never said anything.”

“You probably got good grades in school,” Stimpy said.

She looked at him with a combination of surprise, pride, defiance, and defensiveness. “Why do you say that?”

“Because that’s how schools work in the good old CCSA. Pay attention to what they tell you, tell it back to them, and don’t say anything too smart. Meaning, don’t ask anything.”

Lorinda wondered if she should take offense. Then it occurred to her that he was right: She had been a good student, and had always assumed that that entailed behaving in exactly the way he described. It was only over the past few days that she had begun to suspect that the world was far more complicated — and deceptive — than she had ever imagined.  

“Top of the Heap is produced in the Penal Colony,” Ren said.

“I saw that show once,” Lorinda said, shuddering. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen. How is it even legal?”

Top of the Heap was a long-running program in which, every week, a number of men who were described as future mass murderers — always men — fought to the death. The one left standing — or, at least, alive — returned the following week to take on the next challengers. Sooner or later he, too, would succumb. It was legal because it took place in an enclave, where there were even more forms of freedom than those guaranteed by the country’s, and the states’, ultra-libertarian constitutions.

Before launching the show, the producers, including a son of the vice CEO of the country, made a documentary in which they claimed that a program in which a few people died every week not only did not contravene the laws that prohibited any contribution to population shrinkage, but actually helped maintain the population by taking would-be mass murderers out of circulation.

The methodology the producers described by which they intended to identify these future mass murderers was a load of academic-sounding doubletalk, but it hardly mattered. People ate it up. And after the first couple of episodes aired, all talk of methodology ceased. To everyone’s astonishment (and the producers’ delight), the number of applicants was overwhelming. (It should not have come as a surprise: The CCSA had the fourth highest suicide rate in the world, behind three South Asian nations that were underwater.) Week after week, dozens, sometimes hundreds, of fame-and-death seekers from across the CCSA sent in audition vids or appeared at the studio door, begging for their big — and final — break.

“That’s the beauty of an enclave,” Stimpy said sarcastically. “If they want to do something, no one can stop them.”

“I had no idea,” said Lorinda. Then, abruptly changing the subject in an attempt to ambush them, she said, “What are your real names?”

“Okay, okay,” Stimpy said. “They’re not Ren and Stimpy.” He paused. “They’re Beavis and Butthead.”

“Really?”

“No.”

The car slowed down to pass under the flashing WELCOME VISITORS sign straddling the entrance to the Libertyville visitor-parking lot.

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NEXT: Chapter Twenty-Three. In which our heroine experiences liberty run amok.

PREVIOUSLY in THE SPLIT!

Chapter One. In which we meet our heroine and her dainty little gun.

Chapter Two. In which Lorinda demonstrates her bartending virtuosity.

Chapter Three. In which our heroine receives a promotion and prepares to celebrate.

Chapter Four. In which our heroine proves herself an immoral citizen of the CCSA.

Chapter Five. In which our heroine goes to church.

Chapter Six. In which Lorinda contemplates her future, ignores Pastor Doug, and gets something unexpected from Emmie.

Chapter Seven. In which Lorinda learns something that threatens her big dream.

Chapter Eight. In which our heroine freaks out.

Chapter Nine. In which our heroine says the forbidden word as an unwelcome visitor arrives.

Chapter Ten. In which two unpleasant men perturb our heroine.

Chapter Eleven. In which our heroine seems to have found a solution to her problem.

Chapter Twelve. In which that black truck follows our heroine all the way to Austin.

Chapter Thirteen. In which Lorinda lashes out.

Chapter Fourteen. In which our heroine gets a taste of life in the big city.

Chapter Fifteen. In which our heroine meets a fellow bartender and has a drink.

Chapter Sixteen. In which Lorinda once again takes a swing with her little pink gun.

Chapter Seventeen. In which our heroine prepares to escape.

Chapter Eighteen. In which our heroine gets in a truck with a couple of slightly scary strangers.

Chapter Nineteen. In which our heroine learns that she’s got a long way to go.

Chapter Twenty. In which our heroine spends a night in a gas station.

Chapter Twenty-One. In which our heroine learns about the enclaves of the CCSA.

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