janitor, Roger Johnson.
“I’m working late so Frank can go,” Roger said as he wiped a greasy yellow
railing. “You know, Frank never misses one.”
Roger was one of Luke’s only friends. Most workers ignored janitors unless
something needed cleaning.
Roger was also the only Black person Luke knew in Bibleopolis. Interracial
marriage was seen as liberal, so Roger had no eligible women to date. He
would be a janitor for life.
“It should be a good one,” Luke said, wiping the opposite railing.
“Yeah,” Roger replied without looking up.
Luke had only missed one exile in four years. Missing one could get you
labeled a heretic. Unless you were bedridden or working, suspicion would
follow. Roger missed the last one due to work and still spent two days
proving it.
Luke had spent last night perfecting his “JESUS HATES FAGS” sign. He
worked on it for hours. No one would mistake him for a heretic.
The rest of their shift dragged on. The railings were clean for now. By
tomorrow, they’d be filthy again.
During his final break, Luke retrieved his lunch from the fridge and sat
down.
Preacher John came over and blessed the food.
“Thank you, Father,” Luke said.
He unwrapped a bologna sandwich. Oscar Mayer was the only brand allowed in
Bibleopolis, thanks to its slogan: “My bologna has a first name, it’s
J-E-S-U-S.”