Writing prompts 12

Could you give up everything to survive?


[WP] In the future robots with AI turn on humanity, however, they were programmed to not ever be able to enter Amish country. For now, Amish country is the only safe place left on earth. by dalcowboiz in WritingPrompts

 

We sat on plain wooden benches in a plain wooden hall. The faint smell of whitewash had many in the group blinking rapidly. The few surviving children clung to their parents. Haggard faces, gaunt from privation, thin limbs curled around loved ones, dull eyes avoiding the glance of others. We were a sorry lot. Many of us clutched battered bags and cases containing our most treasured possessions. One woman held a photo album to her chest. All of us had wounds and scars and grime encrusted our hair and skin. Making it this far past the A.I.s had taken all we had and we were glad for a moment of respite from the terror of the past year.
A group of elderly men stood in front of double doors at the opposite end of the room from where we had entered. They were dressed in plain white or blue shirts with braces to hold up their home spun cotton trousers. The oldest man with a puff of snowy white beard held up his hands to get our attention.
“It will be easier to drag my plough through the eye of my wife’s sewing needle than for many of you to embrace our lifestyle.” His accent was thick with Germanic highlights and glottal stops but we understood enough. “You must leave all vanities behind. All the things you carried here must remain in this room. You must let go your pride and embrace the joy of our lifestyle. We will not turn you out if you truly wish to stay but be warned, you have three turns of the moon to prove your heart is true. Our life is simple, the work of our hands is clean and in all things we dedicate our labours to the Lord.”
I could hear the capitalisation in his word. He truly believed there is a God. In a world gone mad with AI robots destroying their makers and all of humanity scrambling through rat holes to survive, this old man still believed in some higher power.
“Let us not belabour the facts. You must strip off your old life and put on the new. Those who wish to step through these doors must know we will not tolerate disobedience and pride, nor vanity in all its forms. You will be issued new clothing, one set only. If you stay, you will make your own clothing, if you leave, your old things will be waiting for you to take back out into the secular world you are running from. Come now and be welcome.”
Men and boys over twelve and women with younger children were corralled through separate side doors into change rooms and returned cleaner and dressed in plain cotton. Women fiddled with their new prayer caps, hats twisted unfamiliarly in the hands of the men. Everyone looked uncomfortable. Make up and jewellery including wedding rings were gone. No denim or spandex, no nylon, rayon or polyblends, no watches, no hair ties, no scrunchies or high heels, no wallets or handbags, suitcases or backpacks. No phones. No headsets. No computers. All of it stored in labelled boxes on shelves in the change rooms to collect in three months if we couldn’t take the change. We had no choice, stay and live, leave and die. Our rag tag group of survivors stepped through the double doors into our new life.