REPUBLICA

3. Even If Your Voice Shakes

Strange, Jenny thought as she walked up the stone steps of the Exeter Town Hall. The voter list was supposed to be released five days ago. She was sure she would know if she had passed the screening before this evening's Town Council meeting. Anyone could attend an open Town Council, regardless of voter status, but still...

Jenny stepped through the double doors and stopped at the registration table, which was draped in red, white and blue. She blinked twice and realized that the lady in charge of registration was her former high school teacher, Mrs. Entzel. Warm memories softened Jenny's nerves and distracted her from her desire to go home.

"Well, hello there, Jenny!" Mrs. Entzel smiled warmly, motioning toward a touch screen. Seeing Mrs. Entzel was always like stepping through a time machine; the retired teacher wore the same hairstyle, glasses, and pantsuit style she wore when Jenny was in her class. Even Mom had observed that Mrs. Entzel was old when she was in her class.

Jenny typed her name and Social Security number into the screen. Then she scanned her ID bracelet and waited for her confirmation ticket. She wasn't sure what the system wanted to confirm, but she wasn't worried. Finally, a ticket popped out. Jenny's heart nearly stopped, however, when her former teacher appeared to read the ticket over and over with a knitted brow. Mrs. Entzel finally looked at Jenny and smiled brightly.

"Well, this is good timing!" Mrs. Entzel exclaimed. "You can complete the final step in your voter application right here!"

Jenny thought she had completed all the requirements. "I don't understand. You mean there's more that I have to do?"

"We just have one little form for you to sign, and you'll be all set," the former teacher chirped, in much the same tone as the day she let Jenny see the school nurse for some Midol.

"Ok," Jenny sighed. Anything to be able to vote. Mrs. Entzel smiled and placed a different tablet on the desk. She tapped the screen with her glossy, pale pink fingernail and turned the touchscreen to face Jenny.

"Just sign this form and that's it!" she said, a bit too cheerfully.

Jenny leaned forward and read the print. The words "LOYALTY OATH" sent an uneasy wave through her core.

"What is this for?" Jenny asked, unsuccessfully trying to steady her voice.

"It's a pledge of loyalty to our President and acknowledging the Lordship of Jesus Christ." Mrs. Entzel said, appearing surprised that Jenny would even ask.

"I don't understand," Jenny said, barely aware of the crowd pressing in at the registration table. She was holding up the line, but her feet felt as though they'd been fused to the floor. There had been rumors of impending religious tests for voters. The President had promised to retaliate - even jail - "disloyal" citizens. But so soon? The retired teacher, her smile fading, held out the tablet. One word kept replaying in Jenny's mind.

Don't.

"I will not," Jenny said, her legs shaking on the verge of collapse. People who were waiting in line began to grumble and sigh at the delay. She felt as though part of her had stepped outside of time.

A bewildered look crossed Mrs. Entzel's impeccably made-up face. "But you have to," she said, "if you want to vote." But the resolve of previous generations passed through Jenny's veins. She felt held, cared for.

Don't.

"I won't sign it," she said.

No test.

Wall.

"I don't have to pass a religious test or pledge loyalty to vote. We have a wall of separation between church and state," she continued, leaning into the mysterious one-word cues and letting them carry her forward.

Mrs. Entzel squared her shoulders. "That's a lie, told by Thomas Jefferson centuries ago and the tainted news media for years. Fortunately, we have a President who knows how to fix that - to take control." Jenny shuddered. Indeed, the President and his allies had wasted no time seizing control of the Department of Justice and removing federal employees who were deemed disloyal.

The cues continued.

No problem. Keep going.

"May I have my ticket?" Jenny knew that she could still attend an open Town Council meeting, whether or not she was registered to vote.

Throughout the Town Hall lobby, people continued their conversations, oblivious to the high drama taking place. The people waiting in line grumbled about "that slow woman" at the desk. In stunned, silence, Mrs. Entzel stamped Jenny's admission ticket and handed it to her.

Jenny's mind raced as she found a seat in the back row, on an aisle. Prone to panic attacks, she always sat near an exit in public places. Jenny's emotions alternated between heartache for her country and puzzlement at her uncharacteristic courage. From her vantage point, she watched neighbors and acquaintances file through the auditorium door. All around her was chatter about sports, the weather, and the latest flu that was going around.

The ordinariness of the meeting agenda seemed absurd after the confrontation at the registration table. Topics to be discussed ranged from whether to add planting beds along the Town Hall entrance to proposed equipment improvements for the fire department. Jenny scoured the agenda for something newsworthy to report at the next writers group meeting. Then she chuckled as she realized that the juiciest news may have been her own actions.

How Jenny wished she could share her story at that very moment. She took out her phone to send a text to Jo. Then she changed her mind without even noticing the tall man in dark glasses whom Mrs. Entzel had called, who was now looking over Jenny's shoulder. He quietly backed away as the longtime town moderator, Sam Goodreau, stepped up to the podium and brought the meeting to order.