1.
Today was Max’s eighteenth birthday. Instead of feeling happy, he felt a growing dread beginning in the pit of his stomach and ending with a bitter taste in his mouth. He stared at the letter.
Name: Max Obershite
Birthdate: 13 December 2022
Registration Number: 1054074
You are required to attend the Rites of Passage
The Corner Stone Inn, 17 Gilbert Street, Adelaide, SA, 5000
12:30pm on the thirteenth day of December 2040
Yours faithfully,
Marcus Wilby
National Security Advisor of The Government
Max had been groomed for this day since he was born. His earliest memory was of his mother sitting next to him, a look of pride on her face. As she stroked his blonde hair, she explained that on his eighteenth birthday, he would finally become a man. He would receive an official letter from The Government to enter the Rites of Passage.
Men of eighteen and women of sixteen would meet in a designated bar. The men would have one chance to procure a woman through one pickup line. Failure to win her over would mean instant death.
“Your part in the game is an honour. A birth right designed to control the overpopulation of men,” she said.
The women were permitted to reject the men, but only twice. On the third pick up line they must accept their new mate for life.
“Procreation through natural means is the only thing that matters, son. It is the law, sanctioned by The Government. Anything that goes against this is punishable by death.”
When Max was fifteen, his father would make him practice pickup lines over synthetic sausages and mashed potatoes. Radiation had killed off animals, ocean life and crops, and now The Government controlled the supply of food and water.
Whenever Max had said something not to his liking, his father would hold an imaginary gun to his head.
“Bang, bang son, you’re dead. Now try again.”
2.
Max felt different to everybody else. He wanted more, he wanted to fall in love. When he was seventeen, he snuck into The Government’s certified quarantined dump, determined to find something that would make him feel less abnormal. Amongst a pile of contraband books, he secretly read a torn, dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice. The Government had banned all literature that included themes of romance, love or sex. Max was captivated. Darcy was intelligent, outspoken and devoted, qualities that he found alluring. Max had fantasised about him, imagining he was Elizabeth, his salvation due to Darcy’s strong will and devotion. Max would hide behind the generator, pleasuring himself, holding one hand over his mouth to stifle the sounds, afraid that if he were caught he would be shot on the spot. Max couldn’t tell anyone how he felt. But he longed to find someone that felt the same forbidden desires as him.
3.
It was now eleven-thirty, one hour till Max was required to perform his birth right. Throwing the letter onto his bed, Max gulped down a bottle of O-Protect and headed down the stairs that led to the underground transportation tube.
“Good luck son. May The Government be with you,” his mother yelled after him.
4.
Each high-rise building was connected to the tube. Citizens of The Government could no longer go outside. The ozone layer had been destroyed by careless generations before.
Max boarded the 180, waved his registration card across the scanner and sat down. The Horned God logo of The Government — a round circle with a crescent moon on top, was stamped in red on the walls.
We give life
We take life
Male potency, strength and protection
A message sanctioned by The Government
Just as the doors were closing, a tall man with jet-black hair slid through the gap, his satchel hitting the handle with a loud thud. Max looked up to see a Guard heading towards the man, his hand resting on the 9mm semi-automatic pistol hanging off his belt. In an attempt to look inconspicuous, Max read the message on the wall over and over in his head.
“Registration card.”
The tall man fumbled in his satchel for his identification.
“Come on. I don’t have all day.”
“It’s in here. Just wait one moment.”
The Guard grabbed the man’s bag and started going through its contents, tossing item after item onto the floor till he found a neatly folded up photographic print.
“What’s this?”
The man looked at the photograph and then looked at the Guard. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow.
“It’s, it’s nothing. Just an old photo.”
The Guard took out his pistol and aimed it squarely at the man’s temple. Nearby passengers moved away, their heads lowered towards the floor.
“Guilty for the act of homosexuality. By the law of The Government, you are punished by death.”
Max watched the man fall to the ground, his skin cold and sweaty, his pulse weak yet rapid and his ears ringing from the gunshot. He tried to avoid looking at the blood-splattered wall or at the dead body on the floor but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. The Guard dropped the photograph and walked off, sliding his gun back into his belt. Max looked down at the photo that was resting by his shoe. It was a picture of the tall man with his arms around another man. They looked happy.
The Clean-Up Crew scrambled to work, dragging the dead body away and mopping up the splattering of blood and brains. Max’s stomach lurched as he watched them. The smell of blood and disinfectant made him gag, the taste of stomach acid in his mouth nauseating. The dead man was a grim reminder of what could happen to him if anyone were to find out that he was gay. Slowly standing up, Max moved to the door and waited for the tube to reach his stop.
5.
It was now midday. The feeling of dread in Max’s stomach had now turned into full-blown panic. He thought of running, of hiding somewhere but he knew The Government would not stop till they found him. Neglecting the Rites of Passage was treason, punishable by death.
Max walked the connecting tunnels of the underground till he reached Gilbert Street. Staring at the street sign that would lead him to his destiny, he climbed the stairs, one heavy foot at a time.
Two Guards greeted Max at the door of the Corner Stone Inn. One patted him down for contraband, while the other demanded to see his registration card. The Guard punched Max’s number into the control system.
“Valid. You have one hour. Don’t waste time. The guards have itchy trigger fingers today.”
The sounds of their laughter echoed in Max’s head as he pushed the door open and walked into the bar.
6.
The room was dimly lit. Old-fashioned lamps hung from the ceiling, illuminating the dark mahogany wood of the floors and walls. A rectangular shaped bar stood in the centre, unattended. Alcohol was forbidden by the law of The Government. The irony of holding the game at a bar did not escape Max. In fact, he almost smiled, had he not been so occupied with his fear.
The men sat around the bar on wooden stools, staring at their hands or at the floor. Max wondered if they were feeling the same dread as he. Taking a deep breath in, he took his place between a red-haired man with acne scaring and a brunette with thick, caterpillar like eyebrows, and waited.
Max scanned the room. Official Guards of The Government stood in each corner, their guns gleaming under the light of the lamps.
The girls were lined up around the edge, according to height and weight. They were decked out in fancy dresses and jewels, their hair pulled back in French rolls. Max tried to picture himself with them — any of them, but couldn’t.
A man with a grey beard and moustache walked into the centre of the room. He was dressed in a black tuxedo with coat tails, a red bow tie and cummerbund, with a black top hat. The Horned God symbol adorned his jacket.
“Welcome to the Rites of Passage. On this day, every one of you will fulfil your birth right, a gift from The Government. Find your life mate or perish. I bid you good luck. Let the game begin!”
Max watched the men around him race to the women, blurting out their pickup lines, while the Guards sprang into action. Bang. Down went the redhead with acne scaring. Bang. Down went a short man with a receding hairline.
Max knew he had to get moving before the girls were all taken but his legs felt heavy, glued to the spot were he sat. He thought of running but how would he get out of here? And if he did make it outside alive, where would he go? Max’s stomach heaved, the all too familiar taste of acid lining his mouth.
Max looked around the room. The Clean-Up Crews were busy removing the bodies of men that had failed. Max tried to focus on the women. There were only twelve left. If he waited any longer, he would be too late.
Pick one. Anyone but for gods sake, just pick one.
Forcing himself off the stool, Max weighed up his options. He had to pick the right one. Too pretty and she could potentially reject him. Too shy and she would be hesitant to make a decision.
That’s when Max spotted her. She was tall but not too tall, slim but not skinny, and pretty but not stunning. She had honey blonde hair and was wearing a long, white dress, flecked with pink and apricot flowers. She had just declined a man, who was now being dragged out of the room.
Max took his sweaty hands out of his pockets and forced a smile. He tried to remember the pickup lines he had practiced with his Dad.
Breathe.
Max walked up to her, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Just as he was about to speak, his stomach lurched. Viscous streams of O-Protect erupted from his mouth, down his shirt and onto the floor, landing on the girl’s feet. The stomach-acid stench of vomit filled his nostrils. Max surveyed the mess with watery eyes as his stomach dry-heaved again. The girl looked horrified, her hand covering her wide-open mouth. She screamed.
“Help! He’s vomited all over me.”
Max put his hand over her mouth, desperately trying to stifle her screams.
“Shhhh. They’ll hear. Please be quiet. I didn’t mean to…”
She bit down hard. Max yanked his bloodied hand away, the throbbing pain making him forget about his queasy stomach. Then the girl kicked him in the groin, forcing Max to his knees in agony. He felt as though he would either defecate all over the floor or paint the walls in vomit.
“You seem to have gotten yourself in quite the mess.”
Max forced himself to look up. Standing over him was a burly Guard, his gun aimed directly at Max’s head.
Max thought about his parents and how disappointed they would be when they found out what had happened. He thought about the tall, dark-haired man on the tube, his arms around his lover. He thought about Darcy swooping in and saving him from his impending fate.
Max closed his eyes and waited.