The Arbiter's face is on the screen.

"Thank you for tuning in tonight," she begins.

As though they have a choice.

"Today is the anniversary of that Great Flood. We here on this island, The Ark, are God's survivors. This island paradise has flourished under the careful guidance of our Priests and our law-abiding citizens. We are the chosen ones! God, in his infinite wisdom, saw fit to purge the earth of sinners and demons alike, and we alone are the great inheritors of the Earth. We have made great strides in matters of equality, stability, and prosperity. Crime is a thing of the past–"

Crux sighs as he stands from the couch. Crux chooses dinner from a screen with options like imitation beef stroganoff, nine-vegetable curry, plant-based chicken wings, or canned fish sushi.

He reluctantly chooses the stroganoff, hoping it's not grainy like before. Food rationing limits his options. A hot tray emerges from the counter. He peels the film and sits back down to watch the Arbiter's address.

"Have a good evening, and remember: the individual dies; the collective thrives–we are the Chosen!"

The screen turns black. Crux eats his grainy stroganoff in the dark. As he finishes his meal, the door swings open revealing Crux's wife, Faith. She grins broadly when she sees him until her eyes fall on the dish.

"Oh, Crux! We're to have dinner with the neighbours tonight!"

Crux withers inside at the thought. "I'm sorry, it slipped my mind."

"Is something the matter?" she asks, crouching in front of him, her hand on his knee. The air is stifling, and Crux can't breathe.

"No, nothing's the matter. Just slipped my mind."

"Have you been taking your, HA-p pills?"

"Yes," he lies. "I think I'm just tired. I think I should go to bed early."

Her hands trail up his face to rest on his forehead, and a crinkle between her brows carves a valley into her otherwise perfect face. "Your temperature is fine... at least... I think that's how you check. Do you need a MedBay to scan you?"

"No, really. I just need to sleep. You go on ahead without me. I'm sorry."

"Well, if you're sure," she says finally, standing. She looks to the screen which is fuzzy now that the broadcast is over. "Did you watch the Arbiter's speech too? So inspiring," she says, her eyes retreating as she zoned out to some dreamland that Crux has never been privy to. She snaps out of it. "Well," she says, walking away to their bedroom, "I'll just change and head out then. I hope whatever's wrong with you passes."

Crux isn't sure it ever will.

* * *

Crux gives it ten minutes, but after tossing and turning in his bed, he can't relax let alone sleep, so he dresses and leaves his state-assigned home.

His rebellion had started small. About a year prior, he'd been playing a game and as he'd been standing in the living room with the headset, something jammed his toe, repeatedly. Cursing, he'd ripped the headset and goggles off to glare at the offender, but it was just the vacuum bot, and it had already turned away beckoning him to follow while he was standing there.

It was as though he'd pulled more than just the headset and goggles away. He watched the bot clean the same spot over and over. The bot didn't care it was doing its job over and over again, and for the first time, he saw them as wrong.

He followed it to the front entrance closet where it bumped continually into the door until he opened it. Inside was a swarm of ants. He watched as the bot started sucking them all up, but without thinking, he lifted the bot to save the ants. They might not belong in his home, but that doesn't mean he wants to see them disposed of in the incinerator, which is where the bot dumps the waste.

Crux flipped the bot upside down so it couldn't move.

He watched as the ants stumbled over one another. He couldn't say how long he'd stared, but Crux got it into his head to keep watching them, and by the end of the day, he'd set up a little ant farm to observe them with the clear crisper drawer from the fridge. The fridge was ornamental because no one cooks.

He'd learned a lot from watching them. His first instinct was to be mildly disgusted by them. They worked for the colony only to die. They were slaves.

About six months into watching them, he realized something. They weren't slaves. They had impeccable habits and structure, and each ant had a purpose; surely, there was some amount of happiness that went along with purpose.

And isn't that just it?

Crux has no problems, which, he suspects, is his problem. All he'd accomplished was a soft ass, a soft middle, and a soft mind.

The views used to be vivid and bright, particularly when he'd been taking his HA-p pills, but they artificially simulated his happiness. If he couldn't achieve it without them then was happiness a lie? Ants aren't free, but neither is he.

He needs to break the monotony of this "perfect" life. Everything is dull, and he needs something sharp.

What is Crime, sadness, loneliness, work, or struggle? Things of the past, they'd been assured.

But is that the case, or is that the result of a doped-up population too weak to see that they had nothing but acquiescence? Machines run the world. At one time, the people held power, but the machines took over when they saw humans doing nothing but destroying themselves. At least... that's what they'd been told.

Crossing the street without looking, a delicious tremor soars through his veins. All the buildings look the same in their gray, concrete boxes – nothing like the pictures of the architecture of the ancient past.

He peers around, looking for someplace to perch where he isn't supposed to; those are his favourite places. Climbing up the side of a squat building with relative ease, he looks over the street.

No one is physically fit anymore.

The first time he attempted to scale this wall, he'd fallen and broken his wrist. His excuse had been that he fell down the stairs as he'd been coming home from observing a town hall meeting. He hasn't attended one since before raising the ants.

The second attempt, once his wrist had healed, brought him scraped knees and a healthy dose of fear when he was nearly caught. It had taken him three months of trying to successfully climb the wall.

He does it easily now, the movements ingrained firmly in his memory. If there had been no windows or vents and trim outside doorways, it would have been a smooth wall, unscalable by complacent humans who sit and eat and atrophy, but it's possible for him.

Perched on the square roof with his legs dangling precariously over the ledge, he looks out on the night sky. As he stares at the moon, something drops into his eyes, and involuntarily, his eyes slide shut. A slight drizzle falls from the heavens.

"Trying to wash away my hope for something more?" he asks the sky, but the sky does not answer. It just keeps weeping like it can't help itself.

"Hey! You're not supposed to be up there!"

Jerking in surprise, Crux peers over his knees to the ground where a man is standing there, pointing at him.

"Where's the sign?"

"The what?"

"The sign that says I can't sit here?"

"Everyone knows."

"I don't."

"Everyone but you knows, then."

"So not everyone."

"Get down!"

"Make me," Crux taunts, rolling his eyes as he resumes his peaceful perusal of the sky. Crux knows damn well the man has no chance of climbing up the wall. Crux can't help the vindictive smirk that twists his mouth when he hears the man try and fail to follow in his footsteps.

"How did you get up there?"

He doesn't reply. The man is silent for a moment, and he leaves, but it's to enter the building. After a few moments of unsettled silence, the door to the roof behind him bursts open.

"Get down from there," the man says, gasping as though even the stairs were too much for him. Crux sneered.

"No. I'm minding my own business. If anything, it's you disturbing the peace." The man's mouth drops, gaping at him. He takes a step closer, and Crux slowly stands.

"Try it," Crux says. "I dare you."

The man is a bloated thing – a creature of comfort. Crux looks at the man, the symbol of who he used to be. He used to spend his time like everyone else.

Now, Crux ignores the mandatory news broadcasts and the media. Instead, he works out. He reads books. Crux has worked all the softness out of his body and mind.

When he'd stopped taking his neon yellow HA-p pills, his vision dulled, but he saw the truth. The pills had been colourful artifice, a film over his eyes that lied perpetually to him about everything. Even his wife was no longer a draw to him.

It made him wonder what the pills were designed to do.

They were told it was an essential vitamin. The human system does not properly release endorphins leading to an increase in stress, so they had to increase the dopamine in humans to counteract the detrimental effects of their flawed design.

But what if it was more than that?

Crux now questions if anything is real while under the influence of HA-p. Is it truly necessary to drug the entire population for it to run in harmony? If that's the case, then is it worth it?

The man before him quakes but moves forward despite his fear. He seems to steel himself, and he reaches out and yanks Crux, but Crux doesn't move an inch. Digging his heels into the ground, he pulls his weight in the opposite direction, and the man pales.

"You really can't be up here," he says, stuttering.

"Why not?"

"It's not safe," he says.

"You know what's more unsafe? Starting a fight on the edge of a cliff."

The man balks. "Is that a threat?"

"No. It's an intelligent observation since you seem to be a bit of a knob," Crux says, gesturing to the ledge behind him.

"Do you know who I am?" the man shrieks, spittle spewing with his every word.

"No," Crux says. "Should I?"

"I am the High Priest of The Ark! I have authority, and I say you cannot be up here! Now come down this instant or I will get the Arbiter involved!"

"Go ahead," Crux says.

A sound Crux has never heard before claws out of the man's throat, an inhuman screech.

"You have no respect for authority! I think you should face a public tribunal and disciplinary action. You need a HA-p pill. You haven't been taking them, have you?"

His meaty palms shove Crux, his face splotchy with rage and brown eyes wide with unhinged fury at not being listened to.

"Don't touch me." The man shoves him again, and this time, Crux nearly loses his balance.

"The individual dies – the collective thrives!" The man shouts, but Crux has had enough. Grabbing the man's head, Crux drives his knee up into the man's face. There's a vicious crack and blood drips down Crux's pants like a trickling stream. Howling, the man cradles his face and falls to his knees.

"You have assaulted a government worker! I'll make sure you go to prison!"

"And you laid hands on an unarmed citizen minding their own business."

"I will personally see to your rehabilitation. You are a menace to society!"

The man pulls out his watch, but before he can contact anyone, Crux kicks him in the stomach, and the man coughs brutally. Breathing hard, Crux stares hatefully at the man.

"You will do no such thing. I just wanted to be left alone, but you just had to meddle," Crux says, walking to the door to leave, but before he reaches it, the man leaps from the ground and attempts to strangle Crux. His fat, meaty arms wrap around Crux's throat.

Crux gurgles and chokes as he leans precariously forward to dislodge the parasite. Stumbling around, he swings his fists wildly. The sky above them grumbles, and the man laughs long and loud.

"You see? God is watching! He is with me to ensure my righteous victory!" His breath is sour.

Enraged, Crux drives his elbows back to gouge the man's belly. The man squeaks as he lets go. He screams, but his voice is drowned out by rumbling thunder.

Breathing hard, Crux looks for the man, but he's nowhere to be seen. The rain falls in earnest, and the night sky is impenetrably dark until a flash of lighting forces cracks into the firmament. It's only just a moment that Crux can see the man's broken body on the street below. Crux crumples to his knees, as he fights to breathe.

"I just wanted to fucking sit in the rain by myself!" he shouts into the sky, allowing his dissatisfaction, rage, and desperation to boil over.

Realizing he can't just keep the man in the street, he scrambles to his feet and runs for the door.

Bursting out into the street, he keeps his face down as he rushes to the man's side. The man's watch is broken. In the street, a baggie of HA-p pills has fallen from his pocket and beside that is an identification card. Crux puts everything in his pockets.

He stares at the dead man, head bludgeoned and limbs bent at wrong angles.

"Or, God is on my side, and he was loud enough to conceal your folly because he knows I am on to you and your corruption," Crux says before staring up at the sky in gratitude.

* * *

Hauling the dead body is a difficult feat – one that wouldn't have been possible without his training in the past year. The body quickly grows stiff during his walk, and Crux finds himself dragging the body, thankful that the rain is concealing their path. The blood swirls in the water on the streets before draining to the nearest sewer.

There is only one solution, but he must get home before his wife does.

Dragging the man feet first up the porch steps of house seventeen, block four, Crux drops him on the stoop and goes inside to verify it's empty.

"Faith?" he calls gently, but there's no answer. He runs to the room, turns the light on, and breathes out a sigh of relief. She's still out.

Rushing back to the covered porch, he drags the man into the house and locks the front door. It is an unusual thing to do, but it will buy him time if Faith comes home early.

Bringing the body to the kitchen, he sighs and looks around. The bots are already cleaning up the front entrance, erasing the tracks. Whether it is mud or blood, the bots don't discriminate, or, more importantly, don't ask questions.

The garbage disposal chute is a wide slot with a metal cover beside the sink, and three times a day, the contents are incinerated; all the evidence would disappear.

Picking the man up, Crux slowly feeds him in with his arms above his head. Once his front half is in, the process becomes much easier. Crux cringes at the sound of his body hitting the metal sides before slamming into the basin below the street.

By his feet, the bots clean the last of the floor up, and Crux strips his clothes, shoving them down the chute too, but not before collecting the baggie of HA-p pills and the ID.

Stuffing a pill into his mouth to relax, he stores them in a random, unused kitchen drawer and showers away the evidence of the first crime on the Ark in a century.

* * *

The next week passes without incident. The disappearance of the High Priest has yet to be mentioned in the Daily News. He only uses the remaining HA-p pills when Faith is around, but failing that, he makes an effort to appear normal.

He attends his gaming group as per usual, appearing chipper and put together.

In the moments of solitude, where there's no one around to dictate how he should behave, he sits in the closet and watches the ants. The colony is thriving, and the more he watches them, the more he realizes he has more in common with them than any human on the island.

The screen in the living room flares to life and the anthem echoes in the vaulted room. Covering the ants with the blanket as per usual, he closes the door and sits on the sofa, excitement building as he wonders if today is the day they'll broach the topic of the high priest.

"Thank you for tuning in," The Arbiter says, her voice sounding more drained than ever. "It is with a heavy heart that we inform you that our High Priest, Glut, beloved citizen and member of the Ark, has gone missing."

He pops a HA-p pill to watch the screen with composure and prevent himself from doing something foolish if he's just being paranoid.

"He was last seen last Friday leaving the town council meeting at around nineteen hours. Any information regarding his possible whereabouts should be reported immediately."

The Arbiter doesn't say anything else of any worth, so Crux moves to the kitchen, the High Priest's card heavy in his pocket. There was no way Glut had gotten so large with the food that Crux ate. He wants to test that theory.

Stomach growling, he presses Glut's card against the opening screen.

He wants to say he's surprised, but he isn't.

Crux angrily swipes through the extensive menu. While he and other citizens were given scraps with options that frequently run out, these government workers are taking all the best food and drink with no limit.

Ordering a whole bottle of brandy, he waits with bated breath and in seconds, the bottle and a glass are delivered. Pouring an absurd amount, he takes a sip and spews it out. Grimacing at the bottle, he raises his eyebrow at it.

"This is what the wealthy drink?"

Suddenly struck with a keen sense of injustice, he wants to give them a taste of their own medicine. He orders the steak, sauces, sides, and gorges.

He shoves the fancy dishes into the incinerator chute. He dumps the brandy down the sink.

He orders and orders, and as fast as it arrives on his kitchen counter, he throws it into the abyss.

Time for the rich to starve and eat scraps too.

The screen informs him scallops are off the menu. Then the chicken. Then the fois gras. Then the bone marrow. Smiling to himself, he slips the last dish into the garbage and pockets the card as someone knocks on his front door.

He takes a happy pill, anticipating his wife.

Smiling as weightlessness courses through his veins, he peruses the cheap beer for the 'plebeians.' Grabbing an Average Joseph, he delights in the hiss of the can.

There's another knock at the front door. Frowning, he takes a sip of his beer as he opens the door wondering why Faith hasn't entered.

"You're not my wife," Crux remarks, looking at the man in his entryway.

"No," the man says, chuckling. "I'm Pert. I just have some questions for you. May I come in?"

"Of course," Crux says, swinging the door open wide. "How can I help you?" he asks, gesturing to the living room. The screen shows the symbol of The Ark, a ship with a palm tree as a mast with a halo around it.

"Ah, well," Pert says, sitting down with a gruff sigh on the end of the couch. "Some sad business, I'm afraid." He crosses one leg over the other. "Did you watch the news tonight?"

"Of course," Crux says, nodding morosely. "Very sad news."

"Indeed. Well, I'm just going door to door to check in with everyone to see if we might discover what has happened to our High Priest."

"Of course. What would you like to know?"

"Where were you last Friday night, say, seventeen hours?"

"I was home all day and night. I had a strange headache and stayed in. I was supposed to go over to the neighbour's for dinner, but I went to bed early."

"Yes," Pert says, looking down at his tablet in front of him. "That's what your neighbour was saying. Well, when was the last time you saw the High Priest?"

"I can't say I have ever met him," Crux says, "so the last time I saw him was on the screen."

"And when was that?" Pert asks, and Crux tilts his head.

"Goodness, maybe... a week and a half ago?"

"Not a fan of Moon Times?" Pert asks, laughing. Moon Times was the High Priest's station. Crux loathes it, but he keeps that to himself.

"Not a fan of when it airs. I'm an early riser."

"I'm more of a night owl myself," he says. "And your wife..."

"Faith," Crux supplies.

"Of course, my apologies. When will Faith be home? I had thought to ask her too while I was here."

In all honesty, his wife should have been home by now. Crux has an inkling of where she might be.

"I was under the impression she was with the neighbour," Crux says simply, drinking from his beer.

"The neighbour..." Pert says, slowly. "No, she wasn't there." After a pause, Pert continues. "I suppose I'll come by some time tomorrow to speak with Faith. Thank you for your time," Pert says, standing after he clicks some buttons on his screen.

Brushing off his grey slacks as though Crux's couch was dirty, Pert moves to the front door.

"Say..." Pert says, but he trails off as he looks at something in the kitchen. "Wait, was is that?" he asks, pointing to Crux's kitchen counter. Crux turns to look as well, and he closes his eyes slowly when he realizes he hasn't disposed of the brandy bottle.

"Oh!" Crux says lightly, moving into the kitchen. Lifting the bottle, he displays it higher. "This little old thing? It's an antique bottle of brandy! I won the bottle at a tournament with my friends. They said something about finding the empty bottle in the street. We of course have never seen such a thing, so I played my very best hand to win it."

Pert approaches the kitchen counter slowly, his eyes narrowed. Passing the bottle over, Crux allows Pert to inspect it.

"I'm going to need to conduct a search."

"Is something the matter?"

"This is banned paraphernalia. I don't know how any of you might have gotten your hands on it, but I must get to the bottom of it." He puts the bottle on the counter to conduct his investigation.

Pert stoops and pulls open drawers and cabinets. Crux brings the bottle down on Pert's head, hard. Pert crumples, cracking his head on the counter as he falls.

"You mean it's banned for us citizens. You government workers drink this whenever you want. Have it. It sucks."

Crux brings the bottle down again. He looks at the disposal window, and he grunts when he realizes the incinerator is on. He pulls on the door.

"Please wait four minutes and seventeen seconds for the current incinerator cycle to complete."

"Override," Crux says, and to his astonishment, it obeys.

"Overriding."

The door opens, and heat instantly swarms the kitchen. Pert groans from the floor. Crux wastes no time in picking Pert up and shoving him into the opening. The heat is blistering, and Pert's fingers clench around the metal opening to prevent his fall.

"What are you doing?" Pert shouts, his voice echoing through the metal incinerator shaft.

The scent of burning flesh is overwhelming.

Crux heaves hard and forces Pert through. Crux can hear the howls of pain, even as he slams the door to the incinerator shut.

"Standing against corruption," Crux says in response when the screaming subsides.

* * *

Crux, for the first time in months, finds himself glued to the news station. The Arbiter's face is drawn.

"This is an emergency broadcast. This month has presented us with unprecedented hardship. Two weeks ago, our beloved High Priest went missing. It has now come to our attention that another government official has been reported missing. We will be conducting door to door interviews to determine the meaning of this."

On the screen, side by side, are the faces of Glut and Pert.

"We ask for your complete compliance in this matter. Please be in your homes by the newly instated curfew at fifteen hours. All public events are postponed until further notice."

The screen goes dark but for the symbol of the boat.

Faith has seven minutes to get home.

It had taken him over an hour to clean the flesh from the rim of the incinerator when Pert's fingers at clutched at it for dear life, but the smell was gone with the liberal use of vinegar.

Now, he sits on the couch with an Average Joe while he waits the arrival of the authorities and his wife. He hopes the authorities gets there first. It would bolster his alibi.

Was he going to frame his strumpet of a wife? Hopefully. Faith's very name is an insult. Her true name should be Faithless.

There's a knock on the door.

Crux puts his beer aside on the coffee table, not bothering with a coaster, and gets the door.

This time, two men are present. "Good evening. Please," Crux says, opening his door wider. "Come in."

"Thank you," they say, and they follow him inside.

Crux leads them to the couch, and he takes the far superior armchair. He grabs his beer and squeezes it between his thighs as the two men get settled.

"This is grim business, but it's got to be done," the first man says, his voice deep and rough. "My name is Luni, and this here's Flux," he says, indicating the man at his side with the bushy moustache. "Flux will only be observing today."

"According to our records, you live here with your wife, correct?" Luni asks, looking down at his tablet.

Crux nods. "I do."

"And do you know where she is?" Crux shakes his head solemnly.

"I do not."

"We know that this was the last residence that Pert visited. He uploaded a report for each house he visited and this was the last one that went through. Please explain how this meeting went."

"Well, I was here alone, and I went to the door, expecting my wife, Faith. It was Pert, and so I invited him in like I did with you gentlemen. He asked me questions about where I had been on that Friday in the evening to determine if I had any knowledge on the whereabouts of the High Priest, and I didn't."

"And where were you on the Friday?" Luni asks.

Crux recounts the night, sans murder, and the men nod. "Yes, that's what Pert reported. Very well. It says here your wife was not here last time either and that he was going to touch base with you again to ask her questions?"

"Yes. We were expecting him, but he never came."

"And your wife is still missing," Luni says. "It's a bit suspicious."

"I'm sure she's on her way. If she was at town council, then it would take longer than the warning to get back if she is walking."

"Is that where she said she'd be?"

"Yes, why?"

"She was not in attendance."

Crux allows shock to appear on his face.

"We see you are not aware of this. Do you have any idea where your wife might be?"

Crux shakes his head, but then the door opens, and Faith walks in. Her face is flushed, and her hair is askew.

"Faith. Please sit."

Like a scolded child, her chin drops and she scurries into the living room to take a seat on the armchair opposite Crux's. She must know about the curfew now.

"Please explain your absence on Saturday last and tonight."

Her gaze darts to Crux, and she crosses her arms as she chews on her lips.

"I was next door."

"At the home of Min?"

"Yes."

Luni consults his tablet. "And yet, when Pert visited, you did not show yourself. Why not?"

She doesn't speak.

"If you don't answer, we'll have to take you and Min in for further questioning."

"Please," she murmurs, her eyes flooding with tears.

"Answer the question."

Still, she remains silent and refuses to look at me.

"Very well," Luni says. "You give us no choice. If you'll come with us, Faith."

Silently, she stands and wordlessly, the trio leave the house.

Crux waits for emotions to hit him, but they don't. He simply stares at the screen, and his mind reels.

The Arbiter stands for lies. Everything they seem to say is inverted truth. Even the high priest was named after one of the deadly sins, and yet Crux was the only one who seems to have realized it.

He stares at the boat logo and all it symbolizes.

"We're not the last people," he says, staring at the iteration of Noah's mythical ark. "We can't be."

The beginnings of a plan form in his mind, and as he sips his beer, he plans his escape. He can't break The Ark, but he can possibly wake some up before he leaves, come what may. He begins his planning.

* * *

He awakes at the third hour. Everything is quiet and the island sleeps. His bag is packed with food, water, and some basic supplies. He is ready but for one last task.

He approaches his front entrance closet. Inside, the ants are in the drawer. He will free himself, and the ants too. Stealing into the night, he brings the crisper drawer with him as he runs across the street, cognizant that patrols might be out.

He moves to the wall where the High Priest died. From his bag, he grabs black spray paint.

He writes out The Ark's motto, and crosses it out.

Below it, he writes his own message.

When THEY fall, Eternity rises.

Everything they have told you is a lie.

There's more food.

More joy.

More purpose.

More land.

More people.

JOIN ME. YOU'RE NOT ALONE.

He leaves the scene. He'll never know if it works, but now there's hope.

Once by the shore, Crux tucks the ants by the tree, giving them a chance at freedom. Stealing an unguarded boat, he pushes it across the beach. Shin deep in water, he hops inside. He'll be gone by dawn.

The ants can be free, and now, so can he.