• I shift in my seat. The hard metal pew presses into my leg, nearly cutting off all circulation. I shift again.
    “And now a prayer.” The old preacher shuffles over to the large computer occupying the north wall of the church. He fiddles with the buttons at the bottom, selecting a prayer from the thousands of old texts displayed on the screen. At the signal, each row of people bow their heads in unison until the entire congregation is in the position of prayer and respect.
    “Our government, our people. Our ruler, our God. We pledge our souls to the greatness of this king and His legacy. We vow to follow our valiant leader for the greater good of all. Show us the path and we will take it, our lives are at your mercy. We give ourselves to you, we are your tools, your vessels, and we live only to serve our God of mount high. Our savior. Your humble servants are ready and waiting for our call of duty. We praise His awesomeness. Amen.” The ringing chant echoes back to my ears a few more times and then the church falls silent as heads are again bowed, this time for a silent prayer.
    I should being praying now, I know that. I should have chanted. But I don’t, or can’t. Either way, it never happens. I wonder how the Gazers can be herded like sheep so easily. Have they not, given every chance, been cruel and prejudiced to me? Or is that for the ‘greater good’?
    Each and every falls to His mighty power happily, while I sit here, silently mocking. Ha! As if there really is a God here. It’s the government putting a face to the religion. Oh yes, those silly Gazers are gullible enough to pledge blind faith into a nonexistent creator in order to justify their way of life.
    The most frightening part is that they truly believe. There are others, I think, that know the truth. People who have seen the face behind the mask. But what of them, where are they now? For certain they are not among the general public.
    My skin is chilled and a shiver runs up my spine as I grasp the obvious: resisters have always been destroyed. I am the last one. I am the silent one.
    A flash of steel catches the sunlight, and I watch as the knife comes down in an arc to slice into the throat of a small child draped over the altar. The scream lasts for mere seconds, until only echoes are left. In the silence I think I can hear the heartbeat of the dying sacrifice.Thump, thump... thu... ump... thump... thu... ump... thump.
    And then I realize that the heartbeat is my own.