The Testaments(75)
Bringing in the Pearls.
They smiled and nodded at me: they seemed really happy. Maybe this won’t be so bad, I thought.
We all sat down. Then one of the older women went up to the pulpit.
“Aunt Lydia,” Aunt Beatrice whispered. “Our main Founder.” I recognized her from the picture that Ada had shown me, though she was quite a lot older than the picture, or so it seemed to me.
“We are here to give thanks for the safe return of our Pearl Girls from their missions—from wherever they have been in the world, going to and fro in it, and doing Gilead’s good work. We salute their physical bravery and their spiritual courage, and we offer the thanks of our hearts. I now declare that our returning Pearl Girls are no longer Supplicants, but full Aunts, with all the powers and privileges associated thereto. We know they will do their duty, wherever and however that duty calls.” Everyone said, “Amen.”
“Pearl Girls, present the Pearls you have gathered,” said Aunt Lydia. “First, the mission to Canada.”
“Stand up,” Aunt Beatrice whispered. She led me up to the front, holding me by the left arm. Her hand was on GOD/LOVE, and it hurt.
She took off her string of pearls, laid it in a big shallow dish in front of Aunt Lydia, and said, “I return these pearls to you pure as the state in which I received them, and may they be blessed to the service of the next Pearl Girl who wears them with pride during her mission. Thanks to the Divine Will, I have added to Gilead’s treasure trove of valuable gems. May I present Jade, a precious Pearl of Great Price, saved from certain destruction. May she be purified from worldly pollution, cleansed of unchaste desires, cauterized from sin, and consecrated to whatever service is allotted to her in Gilead.” She put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me into a kneeling position. I hadn’t been expecting this—I almost fell over sideways. “What’re you doing?” I whispered.
“Shhh,” said Aunt Beatrice. “Be quiet.”
Then Aunt Lydia said, “Welcome to Ardua Hall, Jade, and may you be blessed in the choice you have made, Under His Eye, Per Ardua Cum Estrus.” She placed her hand on my head, then took it off again, nodded at me, and gave a dry smile.
Everyone repeated, “Welcome to the Pearl of Great Price, Per Ardua Cum Estrus, Amen.”
What am I doing here? I thought. This place is weird as fuck.
XVII
Perfect Teeth
The Ardua Hall Holograph
46
My bottle of blue drawing ink, my fountain pen, my notebook pages with their margins trimmed to fit within their hiding place: through these I entrust my message to you, my reader. But what sort of message is it? Some days I see myself as the Recording Angel, collecting together all the sins of Gilead, including mine; on other days I shrug off this high moral tone. Am I not, au fond, merely a dealer in sordid gossip? I’ll never know your verdict on that, I fear.
My larger fear: that all my efforts will prove futile, and Gilead will last for a thousand years. Most of the time, that is what it feels like here, far away from the war, in the still heart of the tornado. So peaceful, the streets; so tranquil, so orderly; yet underneath the deceptively placid surfaces, a tremor, like that near a high-voltage power line. We’re stretched thin, all of us; we vibrate; we quiver, we’re always on the alert. Reign of terror, they used to say, but terror does not exactly reign. Instead it paralyzes. Hence the unnatural quiet.
* * *
—
But there are small mercies. Yesterday I viewed—on the closed-circuit television in Commander Judd’s office—the Particicution presided over by Aunt Elizabeth. Commander Judd had ordered in some coffee—excellent coffee of a kind not normally available; I avoided asking him how he had come by it. He added a shot of rum to his and asked if I would like some. I declined. He then said that he had a tender heart and weak nerves and needed to brace himself, as he found it a strain on his system to watch these bloodthirsty spectacles.
“I do understand,” I said. “But it is our duty to see justice done.” He sighed, drank up, and poured himself another shot.
Two condemned men were to be Particicuted: an Angel who’d been caught selling grey market lemons smuggled in through Maine, and Dr. Grove, the dentist. The Angel’s real crime was not the lemons, however: he’d been accused of taking bribes from Mayday and aiding several Handmaids in their successful flights across our various borders. But the Commanders did not want this fact publicized: it would give people ideas. The official line was that there were no corrupt Angels, and certainly no fleeing Handmaids; for why would one renounce God’s kingdom to plunge into the flaming pit?
Throughout the process that was now about to end Grove’s life, Aunt Elizabeth had been magnificent. She’d been in college dramatics, and had played Hecuba in The Trojan Women—a factoid I’d gathered during our early conferences when she and Helena and Vidala and I had been hammering out the shape of the special women’s sphere in the nascent Gilead. Camaraderie is fostered under such circumstances, past lives are shared. I took care not to share too much of mine.
Elizabeth’s onstage experience had not failed her. She’d booked an appointment with Dr. Grove, as per my orders. Then, at the appropriate moment, she’d scrambled out of the dentist’s chair, ripped her clothing, and shrieked that Grove had tried to rape her. Then, weeping distractedly, she’d staggered out into the waiting room, where Mr. William, the dental assistant, was able to witness her dishevelled appearance and ravaged state of soul.