With a little assistance from the football stadium’s floodlights, the setting sun illuminated the mountain valley, illuminating the hundreds of students and the thousands of friends and family there for the ceremony. But most of the light was focused on one man on a podium at midfield. He had close-cropped brown hair and cornflower-blue eyes that matched the sapphires in his watch.
“The world may have changed a lot over the past century and a half, but sadly, these speeches have not. So I will do my best keep things brief. Milford High students, you are blessed to be where you are today, but not as blessed as we are to have you here. Tonight, we celebrate. Tomorrow—well, really the next two months, but trust me, it’ll feel like a day—you rest. The day after, you go into the world for two years, eighteen months if you’re born lucky.” He nodded and grinned at the girls’ section before taking a breath to gather himself.
“As I was saying, you are all so blessed to be here in Deseret, our very own Zion. Here, unlike the rest of the continent, we neither throw our children to the wolves the second they come of age nor do we coddle them until their thirties, if not later. Instead, we put them into the world with the support of our Church, our community leaders—of which I am exceptionally proud to be one—and each other. It may be a bit presumptuous, but I think you all deserve a round of applause for your future good works.” Everyone in the stands gave an ovation, while the students gave only an uncomfortable, embarrassed smattering. After a few seconds, the speaker continued.
“All of you will serve God and your new communities on your missions. And when your mission is done, some of you will go back home to work the family business, others will go on to Salt Lake, Provo, Logan, or even beyond to continue your schooling. Yet others will continue to preach The Word, both through their speech and through their actions for years to come, all over this continent and all over the world.” He paused.
“But even for those of you who don’t continue preaching The Word, your task, your mission, is still just getting started. There is so much to do. Don’t think that this world is done changing yet; I can assure you it’s not.” He chuckled, his index finger tapping the podium. “The only question is which directions you’ll all nudge that change in. Thank you all, and congratulations again to the class of 2121!” The speaker said, gesturing to the ring of white-and-navy fireworks being launched out of the stadium’s superstructure and into the soft golden sunset. He shook hands with the principal before leaving the stage to make room for the diploma ceremony.
Jaxon, the class salutatorian, made a brisk walk across the stage, his cap awkwardly perched on his mat of curly hair, which while unruly, was considerably less so than usual. He only paused for a few milliseconds, first to give the principal a handshake and then to give his parents a chance for an obligatory photo. But Jaxon wasn’t here for his diploma. Once he’d finished his walk he approached the speaker backstage.
“That was an excellent speech Mr. Wilson.” Jaxon said, his smile much wider than it was during his walk, let alone the miniature photo op. “Obviously, I was already excited to be part of your team for my mission trip, but listening to that made it feel like I just got accepted all over again!”
“Very happy to hear it Jaxon. Now let’s see if you’ll be able to keep that energy up for two years. Speaking from experience, this job is a long haul.” Mr. Wilson laughed.
“Of course. I know I won’t be this excited all the time, but I’m hoping to learn how to channel this energy, or store it? Still not totally sure on that.” Jaxon said.
“We’ll see what’s best for you. But what’s important now is that you enjoy tonight and, as difficult as it will be for you, rest up for these next two months. My mission group is a grind, and I want all four of you at your best when we start.” Mr. Wilson put his arm on Jaxon’s shoulder. “Have a good night son. But know it won’t be even close to your best.” Mr. Wilson smiled before walking to his ride out, a helicopter with its rotors already firing.
The next two months were a blur for Jaxon, just as Mr. Wilson had promised. They were made up of some mix of study, sports, sleep, and worship, with each day more nondescript than the last. The only thing worth remembering was the prep materials that Mr. Wilson had sent to him: Theology, History, Biology, Law, and most things in between. Jaxon had just finished reviewing all of the lessons by the time September 1st came. Ironically (or perhaps fittingly?) enough, it was Labor Day, and Jaxon was going to get to work.
But he wasn’t going to travel to work by car, nor the traditional biking nor even walking. Mr. Wilson had made sure of that. Jaxon bode his parents goodbye in the school parking lot, which was more than empty enough to accommodate Mr. Wilson’s helicopter for a second time, its glossy white frame in stark contrast to the pitch-black neophalt it was sitting on.
“Jaxon! You’re our last pickup.” Mr. Wilson smiled, extending his hand and helping Jaxon inside. The doors closed once he made his way in, their soundproofing erasing the rotors’ din.
Mr. Wilson gestured to the three people seated to Jaxon’s right. The boy sat directly next to him introduced himself as Taysom. Jaxon immediately recognized him as the safety who’d marked him in the National Quarterfinals. His green eyes were nearly as intense now as they were on the field that day.
“Hey Jaxon; it’s been a few months. I hope we grow close over these next two years, but not quite as close as you got to the championship.” He laughed.
“Don’t worry Taysom. I agree that we don’t want to get too close. There should be a comfortable distance between us, like you and the ball whenever you tried to bat it down.” Jaxon said, smiling back.
“Not on that 4th down.” Taysom said, knowing Jaxon had no comeback for that.
The next student—no, missionary—introduced herself before the silence between Jaxon and Taysom could become awkward, extending her coppery arm over Taysom. “I’m Anahera, but you can call me Ana. I’m from The City by way of Aotearoa. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She said, brushing her wavy black hair back in an-almost rehearsed manner, probably because Jaxon was the fourth person she’d introduced herself to today.
Last of all was Jaklyn, whose pin-straight blonde hair sheathed her pale, round face. “Very nice to meet you Jaxon. I have to say I’m still not totally sure what I’m doing here, but I guess we have plenty of time to figure it out together.” She blushed.
“Yes we will Ms. Detmer.” Mr. Wilson smiled. “And now that you’re all acquainted, we should start our preparatory work. Under your chairs are copies of Doctrines and Covenants. Yes, actual physical copies.” He chuckled. “Please open them to Section 119. We will discuss the text itself, which I am sure you have all ready several times over, as well as my annotations.”
After roughly an hour of discussion, the helicopter rounded a mountain to reveal their destination: the city of Covey.
Its dozen skyscrapers—half business, half residential—appeared suddenly out of the desert haze. Their rectangular bases nearly the size of a city block tapering away over dozens of stories into pin-prick satellite receptors. The skyscrapers were all connected by cylindrical glass tunnels, keeping the commuters inside protected from the desert heat. Nestled in the mess of steel and glass were a few Mormon churches; their stark-white facades and trio of spires were unmistakable once the new missionaries got their first glimpse of them.
“Mr. Wilson, what are we doing in Covey? I thought we’d be working out in the field where, well, the population isn’t 98-or-so percent Mormon.” Jaxon said, speaking for both himself and the group.
“Kids, I wish I could tell you, but all I can say is that this is your first job Consider it a baptism of fire. The world is going to throw you into situations you’re not fully ready for, but it’s by taking the challenge and doing the work that you’ll learn more about yourself and the world than you could have ever imagined. The real question is whether or not you’ll be able to not only adjust, but remain yourself in the process.” Mr. Wilson said. “But while I can’t tell you why you’re here, I can give you one more lesson before we start.” He turned to the window.
“Do you know what built this city? Potash. Scientifically known as Potassium Sulfate. While the land may not have been fertile—in fact, it was barren—it was more or less made of fertilizer. The tools were provided by God, but Man was needed to unlock their potential, and we were rewarded for it, not just financially, but spiritually and socially as well. And who directed us to this land of prosperity?”
“God.” The four said in unison.
“Exactly. And just as He wanted us . . .” Mr. Wilson gestured to the city “To be here, He wants you four, specifically, personally, to be here.” He said as the helicopter landed on the roof of the easternmost skyscraper.
The doors automatically opened once the rotors died down, and Mr. Wilson gestured for the new missionaries to exit. “This should be fun.” Taysom said as he got out. While some would think his near-comical smile was hiding his nerves, Jaxon knew that his excitement was genuinely winning out.
Jaxon and Ana were considerably more confused, but headed down anyway. Jaklyn paused to speak with Mr. Wilson.
“Thank you for the kind words Mr. Wilson. But I have to say, I really don’t know what we can do. Your reading materials were interesting but well, eclectic. History, law, religion, science. I just don’t know what you’re aiming at here.” Jaklyn said, her eyes glued to the floor.
“Ms. Detmer, I know it’s been a few generations, but if any person in this great nation was going to just let it rip in a high-pressure situation, darn the torpedoes, it would be a Detmer. Now go knock ‘em dead.” He said, his hands hovering over her shoulders as he looked her in the eye. A few seconds later, they both exited the helicopter.
The group were ushered inside by security guards clad in cerulean blue. A couple sets of stairs later and they reached a cavernous reception room. On the east side was a window which showed the remnants of the sunrise. Opposite the window was a reception desk made of marbled granite, manned by a couple of secretaries. The remainder of the west wall was lined with a row of gray chairs in stark contrast to the crimson paint on the wall. The room tapered to the North, ending in a lone copper door; it had long since turned green from oxidation. In fact, the door may have been as old as Utah-Deseret-Zion itself; its age was contrasted by the laser security scanner a few feet in front of it.
One of the secretaries looked up from her tablet as the group entered. “Ah yes, Mr. Wilson and his missionaries. Mr. Tavai’s 9:00 am meeting ended early, so he’s ready for you now. Please pass through the scanner one at a time.” She clicked one of the buttons in front of her and opened the door.
The scanner in front was a rectangular skeleton of gunmetal gray, with a dozen or so yellow lasers emanating from their burrows in the frame. When someone passed through the lasers turned red, then green upon being cleared for weaponry.
Once they were all cleared by the scanner, the group walked in as one; Mr. Tavai was waiting at his mahogany desk. His hands were folded, covered in twin labyrinths of veins and (assumably) pre-conversion tattoos, and his shoulders would have popped out of any normally tailored suit, instead of the custom charcoal gray one he was wearing. Jaxon and Taysom gave each other a knowing look; whoever else he was, Mr. Tavai was definitely a lineman.
“Always a pleasure Mr. Wilson. You do have a habit of finding the most exceptional students to become your missionaries, including a fellow Samoan perchance?” He smiled and turned slightly towards Ana.
“Sorry to disappoint you Mr. Tavai, but I’m Maori. My name is Anahera Tere, but please, just call me Ana.” She smiled at him and shook his hand as if she knew exactly why she was there.
After another rousing round of introductions, Mr. Tavai sat back down at his desk.
“So Mr. Wilson, you’ve brought your best prospects here again. Let’s see if this group can succeed where last year’s failed. So, Elders and Sisters, tell me why this corporation should donate its surplus property and one-tenth of its interest to the Church. It is my view that Doctrines and Covenants, while being a document that I faithfully follow, only applies to human beings. In addition, since Covey is a charter city, it is not officially part of Deseret, or Zion, whichever you prefer to call it.” He leaned back in his chair.
The group of four shifted in their chairs, exchanging glances while Mr. Tavai barely concealed a smirk. For his part, Mr. Wilson did not appear remotely concerned, lounging back in his chair.
Taysom was the first to speak up. “Honestly Mr. Tavai, I don’t think Covey being a charter city matters here at all. In Mark 12:17, Jesus says to give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and that’s what Covey’s status as a charter determines: what is Caesar’s. But in that same verse, he also says to give to God what is God’s, and that’s what tithing is. Who your Caesar is does not affect your obligations to God.” Taysom said, finally exhaling when he finished.
“A very good point, elder Taysom. And if this were just about my contributions as a citizen of Covey, I would fully agree with you. But I am not a corporation, despite what the sovereign citizen who sued me last week said. So allow me to ask again: Why should this corporation tithe?” Mr. Tavai said, still very much at ease.
“Because corporations are people, and have been considered so for a very long time. They have legal rights, like the ability to sue people in court, and even some civil rights regarding speech. Well, at least they do here.” Ana said.
“Another clever point Sister Ana. Corporations are indeed persons, but only legal persons, not natural ones. You have to go further west for that.” Mr. Tavai laughed. “Doesn’t that make corporations people only in Caesar’s eyes, not God’s? From what I hear, the distinction is rather important.” Mr. Tavai said. Jaxon bit his tongue. Taysom seemed like a good enough guy, but he was difficult as both an opponent and a teammate. After another awkward silence, Jaxon spoke up.
“With all due respect Mr. Tavai, I don’t think Section 119 splits hairs like that. Joseph Smith says that ‘All those who gather unto the land of Zion shall be tithed.’ That language is as broad as possible, so it seems pretty easy to read that he meant all persons, not just natural ones. Also, the church was really struggling when he wrote Doctrines and Covenants; do you really think he would have wanted to decrease the revenue coming in?”
“An interesting thought Elder Jaxon. It makes very good sense, but corporate personhood did not exist in the United States until a very long time after Joseph Smith died. While he was a visionary in almost every sense of the word, I’m not sure he was in terms of corporate law.” Mr. Tavai laughed.
“I have something to add.” Jaklyn said, her voice wobbly. “There’s another part of Section 119 worth talking about—the end. It says ‘If my people observe not this law.’ Even if a corporation isn’t a person to the Church—and I’m not sure it isn’t—and even if Covey isn’t technically part of Zion—and once again, I think it is—you, Mr. Tavai, are still very much a person, and one of Joseph Smith’s people at that. As such, you must obey Section 119 in all circumstances; there’s no exception in it for people making decisions in other roles.” Jaklyn said, her eyes going right back to the floor after finishing.
“And there we are Sister Jaklyn. Good work from all four of you, but your argument was the best. Clear and direct with minimal speculation, as well as directly challenging your opponent.” Mr. Tavai said.
“Thank you.” Jaklyn said, her eyes coming back up from the floor. She was sincerely smiling for the first time since Jaxon met her.
“Well done! Well done!” Mr. Wilson applauded, still leaning back in his chair. “I’ll let you all in on a dirty little secret, which you probably already knew. Last year’s group didn’t fail, and Mr. Tavai has already generously decided to tithe according to Section 119. Your real mission is to convince the rest of the corps we’ll be visiting to do the same; this was just practice.” He said.
“I’m sorry sir, but what? I . . . have some questions about how this fits in with what mission trips are supposed to be about.” Jaxon said.
“I understand Jaxon. Rest assured that I’ll explain everything on the way back. But please, enjoy your success for at least a few minutes.” Mr. Wilson said.
“Yes; all four of you definitely should.” Mr. Tavai said. “Your work will be invaluable in securing the future of our Church. I can assure you of that.”
Right as the group was commencing what they hoped would be their final round of handshakes for the day, a call came into Mr. Tavai’s intercom.
Mr. Tavai; security needs to speak with you. He says it’s urgent.”
“Let him in. Sorry to cut this about 20 seconds short.” Mr. Tavai laughed. The security supervisor, or whatever his title was, walked in before the group had left. He wasn’t much older than the new missionaries, almost looking like one with his perfectly kept uniform of cerulean with silver piping, as well as close-cropped dark brown hair.
“Bryson, sorry, Mr. Young, it’s a pleasure to see you again. I am glad that you’re doing so well. Already climbing the ladder just a couple years out from your mission trip.” Mr. Wilson smiled and offered the supervisor his hand.
Bryson ignored it. “Mr. Tavai, we have a massive problem here.” He inhaled. “Mr. Wilson has betrayed the Church.”
“Bryson, please, tell me what’s going on. You know how dedicated I am, how dedicated all of us in this room are, including you, to the Church.” Mr. Wilson said, so stunned that he’d forgotten to retract his hand.
“I thought I did too. Then I looked at the scanner data.” Bryson locked the door, then showed Mr. Tavai his tablet. “I’m pretty sure almost every piece of Mr. Wilson besides his brain has been alt-ed: Skeleton, joints, muscles, organs. I know the Church allows some alts in limited cases of unnatural failure, but this, this is full-on augmentation. Can you explain yourself Mr. Wilson?”
“Yes, I can. Every single modification to my body has been to serve God.” Mr. Wilson said, gathering himself.
“Do you not remember Corinthians 6:19? The body is a temple, not to be defiled by human artifices?” Mr. Tavai said, recoiling.
“You misunderstand. My body IS a temple. Moreso than any of yours. I have made—and remade—it to serve God. I have worked, for sixty years to expand this great country of ours, to spread our influence from sea to shining sea. And I will happily do it for centuries more. God gave us a world to save, and I can’t help but continue HIS work until the trumpets blare and He tells me I’m done.”
“That’s quite the story, but I would guess you did it for the 2% finder’s fees really add up for the tens of billions you’ve gotten the Church. That’s not only enough for all the body alts you could ever ask for, but get you say, a whole fleet of helicopters, a few dozen estates to bounce between, and who even knows how many other things? And even if you are telling the truth about wanting to save the world, having a good reason for your sins does not absolve you of them.” Bryson said.
“Wait, sixty years? Aren’t you only forty-eight?” Ana asked, confused.
“Officially, he is. Did he forge himself a new identity?” Taysom asked.
“Wait, isn’t Mr. Wilson supposedly a Jr.? What if he isn’t?” Jaxon said.
“I’ll look it up.” Bryson said, inputting some parameters into the tablet. “Yep. His dad was supposed to have died thirty years ago. Guess he found a new lease on life.” Bryson smirked. “Probably was able to pass himself off as his son to all the scanning tech because he used him as a model.”
Mr. Wilson smirked. “I see I taught you too well Bryson. And before you all get worried, my son is fine. Well, damned to hell, but physically fine. He schlepped off to the Northern Prairies at the end of several years-long disagreements with me about the Church the day before his mission trip, namely his lack of belief in it after what happened to his mother. I just happened to have his facial data from security cameras around my house, as well as the contact info for some surgeons out in Mojave. And since I couldn’t come back a new man, I made sure to keep the family name.” Mr. Wilson said.
“And if he signed off on documents pretending to be his son, isn’t that fraud? And fraud against the Church as well as the government.” Jaklyn said, remembering some of the reading material Mr. Wilson had given her for the summer.
“You’re correct Ms. Detmer. Bryson, arrest him. We have a lot to figure out, but he cannot be allowed to do any more damage.” Mr. Tavai said, his voice still trembling.
Bryson, taking advantage of the limited police powers corporate security in Covey enjoyed, handcuffed Mr. Wilson and read him his rights. But Mr. Wilson was from from done speaking.
“I have suffered, and will continue to suffer for the truth. I have become a pariah amongst my own people for breaking laws that were meant for the people of centuries past, and not only that, but I’ve been betrayed by one of those whom I taught. Tavai wouldn’t happen to be paying you all in silver, would he?” He said, his perfect teeth bared in a wide grin as he faced his young missionaries. Everyone else was too stunned to respond.
“All I have done is work to buy, yes, buy, the Church decades, if not centuries, of financial security, ensuring its existence until the trumpets blare and the heavens open up. Even if you think I have lost my soul, think of how many souls I have saved, and how many more I could save if I am allowed to continue my work? One soul in exchange for countless thousands, perhaps even millions. How’s that for a return on investment?” Mr. Wilson said, not even straining against the cuffs or Bryson’s hold on him.
Jaxon finally mustered the courage to speak up. “You know what? Going back to what you said on the helicopter, I wholeheartedly agree with you Mr. Wilson. Well, at least on two counts.” Jaxon said. “First, I’ve already learned more on this mission trip already than I could have ever imagined. Second, there’s no doubt that God wanted us to be here. After all, He’s just shown us exactly what it looks like to break the Second Commandment.”