The Leader, The Sun & The Moon

The class of children called them Goggle Faces. They knew about the nickname given to them, but didn’t mind. Of course, when they were school children they too had a name for the technicians that visited their school, peering over clipboards with a kind smile.

It was harmless cultural residue, a by-product of the miracle they were creating. The Goggle Faces looked strange, but in state lore they were helpers to The Leader. By all means, the children could whisper about their strange appearance. In a way, they were lightning rods, deflecting any jokes about The Leader.

This particular teacher had done a great job this year of decorating the room for Wish Day. Gold, blue and brown streamers hung from every available piece of furniture. As the technicians filed silently into the back of the room, she extolled the virtues of the festival, amid the hushed voices of the children.

Like puppies, they fidgeted excitedly. They knew what Wish Day meant. One of them would have 20,000 bestowed upon their family, forever changing their lives. And like puppies, they had to be trained from a young age to have any chance of functioning normally in such a healthy society.

‘Our nation is kept alight by The Leader, the Sun, and the Moon’, the teacher recited. ‘There is no other order’.

‘Why do we choose to have a festival for The Leader, and not the Sun or the Moon?’ she asked the class, raising her eyebrows in anticipation of raised hands. A majority went up.

Bahrom jumped in first. ‘Because the Sun and Moon do not choose to keep our nation alight. We choose to have a festival for The Leader because He has chosen to do this for us all’. He intoned each syllable on its own.

‘That’s right! Thank you very much.’ The teacher grinned at Bahrom, her eyes quickly throwing a glance at the technicians in the back. Bahrom was a very talented student for 6 years old.

Outside the door, while two technicians fiddled with a small generator, the impersonator scratched at the collar of his uniform. His contact lenses were already stinging a little, but he could hardly adjust them right now. Instead, he compensated by tugging at the starched clothes.

A technician squinted at him. The Leader was rumored to be 70 years old. The makeup was extremely high quality, ageing the man by at least 10 years. The likeness was impressive. The only thing that seemed off was some loose hair falling down from under the cap.

‘Hold on Eldor. The hair, fix the hair at your hat.’

Eldor scowled a little. ‘The Leader is feeling a little relaxed today, in this hot suit. They will barely be able to see it.’

‘We don’t go to all this effort so that you make Him look untidy’, the technician hissed.

By this point the teacher had whipped the class into a frenzy: the children were buzzing with energy. They sat politely though, because wanted The Leader to see them choosing to be polite.

The teacher let herself out of the room. She did a little jig with her hands. ‘I love to see them so happy.’

‘You know’, she paused, looking Eldor up and down with wide eyes. ‘You do look just like Him’. She hung there for a few seconds, urging Him to respond in that voice, that voice he had perfected. Few of the impersonators could get the voice completely right. However, he didn’t do it around adults. He wasn’t paid for it.

‘We are ready in 1 minute’, said another technician, popping her head around the door.

Eldor breathed in and out deeply. He’d worked the last 17 Wish Days. Close to 150 school classes, and thousands of children. He was one of hundreds of Leader impersonators. Even though the work was shared, it was sometimes hard to convey His warmth under the heat of the lights.

An unwanted thought jumped in. The Leader was allegedly 70. What was fact, however, was his absence from the public for two months now. What happens when that light goes out? The children were easy to teach, but adults were already starting to feel, in some part of their minds, that their world was fading into darkness.

Each household held within it a little black book. Sometimes there was more than one, depending on how much a family wished to impress their loyalty on the furniture, walls, and on occasion the police. The defining feature of these little books was their emptiness. They served as powerful reminders of the little black book held up by The Leader at the start and end of each televised address since the start of His reign.

Some said the little black book contained the secrets of The Leader’s success, His teachings for the nation, and perhaps holding it transferred a healing power. Some claimed that the Book came before The Leader, meaning that He alone was worthy enough to own it. Others still, on the far end on the scale of permitted skepticism, argued that there were many copies of the Book, and that The Leader was wise enough to have a stockpile. After all, the wisdom transcended mere pieces of paper, they chortled.

What nobody dared argue was that, like their symbolic Books at home, The Leader’s copy was also completely empty.

The usual, weekly televised speeches had been handled by The Leader’s Deputy. The Leader was on a pilgrimage, he explained, a journey that only He and He Alone was equipped to take. At first, the television displayed The Leader’s normal podium, jutting out from Independence Hill. In these televised spots, it was empty. Most importantly, it was minus its usual high-contrast, golden sheen.

After a few weeks, whispers of foreign interference took root in the national psyche. The Leader’s Deputy took over the weekly speeches from a different location, providing updates on The Leader’s journey, cryptic and impenetrable as dead silence. On his third televised address, the decision was made to bathe The Leader’s Deputy, and 15 million rooms throughout the nation, in a harsh silver light.

It wasn’t long before a new nickname spontaneously took hold: The Dim One.

Those over 40, like Eldor, didn’t feel that much was fading. They remembered Him coming to power. For them, there was a world Before, and there would be a world After. For the under 40s, such a thought was nigh on impossible.

‘Go.’

Eldor opened the classroom door, letting a hot, blinding golden light flood into the school corridor. He instinctively winced, and relaxed his eyes, nominally protected behind the contact lenses.

He stepped in, slowly treading towards the children in his replica boots. Most were shielding their eyes from the specialized lights. Some were giggling, giddy with happiness. One child stared straight at him, jaw hanging open.

He stepped over to his ornamental throne in a slow, ceremonial fashion, and sat down facing the children. A small seat was placed at his right side. He raised his hands to the class in greeting, and fell into the well-worn tone that gave him the title of ‘best Leader’ among many technicians.

‘You and I are in light today. I want to thank you for choosing to make all these wonderful decorations. See how they sparkle and glitter.’

The children applauded, little hands clapping together jerkily like paws.

‘Alisher Latifi’, called out one of the technicians, looking up from their clipboard.

A girl’s hand shot up. It was soon taken gently by the hand of a Goggle Face. He escorted her ornately over to the little plastic chair, making sure she didn’t stumble out of blindness. She tried to keep her eyes straight on The Leader, ignoring her urge to blink as much as she could. The Goggle Face patted her shoulder, and the girl curtseyed before taking a seat.

The technicians gathered at the room’s far side adjusted their headphones, and readied their pen and paper. Bahrom was a wonderful student, showing real progress. They leant forward without considering that the conversation would be fed straight into their ears, hoping that his sister would make the right choices as well.

The Leader’s voice rolled into their ears like honey as Eldor began his craft, holding the girl’s hand safely in both of his. One technician grabbed another’s hand and felt a squeeze back. It had been too long since they had heard His voice.

‘It’s so wonderful to meet you again, Alisher. I have written down what the teachers tell me about your good work in my Book, and let me say that I am proud of your choices.’

The girl beamed with pride, all shyness obliterated by The Leader and his golden light. In the haze, she could just about make out a lock of white hair, rising out the rim of the cap to shine brightly. She leaned in.

‘Nobody knows, but I have been writing in a Book too. I choose to be just like you in every way.’

Eldor hadn’t expected to hear that. He paused for a second, frowned. Considered how to best make clear to her that this was a violation, not a veneration. And how to make this clear in a friendly, magnanimous manner.

Alisher had never seen The Leader look unhappy or frown before. Or with a lock of white hair. For a fraction of a second The Leader, sat before her, transformed into a stranger. And she was certain that for some reason, the golden light had dimmed. When she got home, she would write about it in her Book.