| |
My best friend is the one who brings out the best in me. (Ford)
Music cut through the black hole of Carl’s consciousness:
My grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf
So it stood ninety years on the floor
It was taller by half than the old man himself
Though it weighed not a pennyweight more
What is this? Am I dead? Consciousness slowly cut through the darkness. Why won’t that song just go away? An ugly reminder of his recent discovery: he was hatched out of a cocoon. His parents were a petri dish and some kind of slurry from a tube in a factory north of Albany. That song represented his youth – a childhood that didn’t exist, except in his mind. A series of youthful highlights implanted by a machine to help control his every thought. None of it made sense. None of it mattered.
Carl’s vision came back to him, the blurred images slowly coming into focus. He felt nauseated as the room spun, then snapped back to one spot, only to start spinning again. Where am I? He thought to himself, unable to understand why he was still alive.
As the room slowed to a halt, he tried to move; his body remained tightly in place by metal restraints around his arms, feet, torso, and head. Buckled down, so that movement, never mind escape, was impossible. His eyes darted around the room, looking for clues. The walls and floor were painted bright white. There was an empty stool in front of him. A door to his right. Nothing else was visible.
“Where the hell am I?” he shouted. A harsh echo slapped the words back at him as the only reply he would get. The room hummed at him, as if mocking him.
An eternal hour passed. Is this how I’m going to spend the rest of my life? Carl asked himself. His heart pounded hard as he thought about how he might be condemned to spending the next several years strapped to this chair. He screamed into the empty room.
Another hour passed. Carl tried to wiggle in the chair, pressing his midsection hard into the metal bracket that held him in place. He felt his ribs creaking, ready to snap if he pressed any harder. He grunted, trying hard to force what little muscle he had forward, hoping that he was stronger than steel.
The door opened. “Now don’t go hurting yourself,” a faceless voice said before entering. “That’s not going to do anyone any good.”
A man dressed in a white jump suit entered the room. Carl couldn’t see his face right away, but when he turned to approach, Carl couldn’t believe his eyes. “Chris? What the hell are you doing here?”
Chris laughed, “Well, that’s a long story. I’m not so sure that you would enjoy it very much.” He sat on the stool, facing Carl.
Carl blinked several times, thinking that he might be dreaming. Seeing Chris clean shaven, with a haircut, washed, and outfitted in some kind of uniform didn’t make any sense to Carl. His accent was gone, too. “I don’t understand. How come you weren’t captured? Get me out of here, quick. We can save Eva.”
A screen descended from the ceiling as Chris said, “Here, watch this. We’ll talk after you see it.”
As the screen came into Carl’s view, a national news clip aired, showing him with a flamethrower while Eva blew up an apartment building. The Hunter came and captured them, then ended.
Carl asked, “What is that? None of that happened.”
“No, it didn’t. But millions of people believe it happened the moment that they watched that news clip yesterday on their Exoches.”
“What does this have to do with you?”
“Don’t you see the resemblance?” he laughed.
Carl took a close look at Chris. If you added thirty pounds of muscle, there was a striking resemblance between him and, “You’re Tim Hunter?”
“In the flesh,” he laughed again. “Mind you, my job isn’t nearly as glamorous as it looks on the Exoche. I rarely get to ride that bike, but let me tell you,” he whistled, “when I do, does that thing ever go.”
“Why are you doing this? Let me go.” Carl tried to wiggle out of his restraints again.
“Why am I doing this?” he echoed. “Well, let’s see. Would I rather be where I am, or where you are? That’s a tough one,” he mocked Carl. “I was born the same way as you, in a cocoon down the hall from where we are right now. There are some differences, though. While I do have a Micom, I am mostly an entity. I have their protocols rattling around in my brain. I was created to do this job. Government communicates with me through the Micom. Most of the time I see the same world that you do now, but I get a number of special privileges. Sometimes, I see the world as others see it, when I’m undercover. But when I see it like that, I know it’s fake. By the way, when I’m undercover, you might remember me as Dan Eagan,” Chris laughed. “Isn’t that funny?” Chris paused for a reaction. Carl just sat, seething.
“Anyway, her work is very important. You probably can’t see that as a mere human, but trust me, what all of the entities are doing is beautiful.”
“You’ve been lying to me this whole time?”
Chris thought about how to respond before finally speaking, “Lying isn’t the right word. My job was to give you hope, that there was something out there for you to find. It’s an experiment that they are running. I don’t really know the reasons; I’m just told what to do.”
A woman’s voice rang through the room, “That was his job, Carl. Nothing more. Psychology and I needed to study what you would do when faced with challenges and how much hope you needed to persevere.”
“Who are you?” Carl shouted at the room.
“I am Government.”
“Why me? Why Eva?”
“You were randomly selected based on a psychological test that you took this year. I do apologize for the inconvenience.”
“Inconvenience?” Carl spat. “Inconvenience? It’s a little more than an inconvenience. You ruined my life.”
“That is true, Carl. I have disrupted your life.”
“Why can’t you just let me and Eva go?”
“I do not feel that is a good solution, Carl.”
“Why not?”
“That is not our protocol.”
“Then what is your protocol? Do you plan on killing me?”
“Not yet, Carl. We have another plan for you. But before doing that, I have a few questions for you.”
“Oh yeah,” Carl snorted, “and what is that?”
“Given what you know about your former life and what you know about this reality, what would you choose for your son? Would you want him to live in the world that we have created or would you rather he live in this reality?”
Carl’s body went limp. The question was odd to him and he hadn’t considered it before. He truly didn’t know how to answer.
“Allow me to provide you with the scenario. Psychology has developed an experiment where a number of individuals may have their Micoms removed. They will see this world for what it really is and allowed to live in a separate community. They will not be allowed to interact with the rest of the world. Should we select your son?”
Carl thought about everything that would be taken away from Liam. The things that he knows and loves. In exchange for what? Learning that the world is desolate and cold? That the sun never truly shines. Would such a young boy understand the value of being ripped away from luxury? Did Liam have a better life living in the fake world? Carl wanted to tell Government that he should be selected to live in this community for the simple reason that it would be real. But Carl answered, “No. He shouldn’t be selected for that experiment. He likes his life the way it is.”
“I suspected that would be your answer, Carl.” There was a pause in the room. Even Chris was perfectly still before Government continued. “I have one last question for you, Carl. Please tell me if the following is humorous to you: a robotic constable comes into a bar and says, ‘Give me something to loosen up.’ The bar tender looks around the bar, trying to figure out what to give it. Finally, the bartender starts making a drink and says, ‘Here’s a screwdriver.’”
“No.”
“Oh, well. I suppose I still have a lot to learn about humor. No matter, this experiment has ended. Chris, please take Carl to Psychology for reprogramming.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Chris replied. Chris moved behind Carl’s chair. He started rolling Carl out of the room. “Chris, stop. Where are we going?”
“We’re off to the pit, Carl. You remember our talk about the pit, right? Don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing.”
“What about Eva? What will happen to her?”
“Eva,” Chris chuckled. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about her. You’ll see her again.
Carl stopped. “I will?” Carl was surprised by his answer. “Can I see her now?”
“Not now, Carl. You’ll have to wait a little while.”
Carl calmed down. He was overwhelmed by the prospect of seeing Eva, even if it would be the last time. At least there was one thing to look forward to before his inevitable death.
Carl felt the chair turn, as Chris wheeled him along. Carl could see a door slide open and another white room came into view. The only item in the room was a dark, glassy hood rounded at the edges suspended from the ceiling.
“What’s that?” Carl asked, his body perfectly still as he submitted to the idea that his death was only moments away.
“That –” Chris stopped to stare at the ominous glassy sheet, “is –” He wasn’t sure how to describe it. “Let’s call that the pit.” Chris shifted Carl under the object.
Carl tried to keep his eyes on it, but the sheet slowly slid past his peripheral vision. He shook uncontrollably in his seat. While he was ready for death, he didn’t know what this thing did. He feared that it would be painful.
Chris moved close to Carl’s face and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’d like to say that it’s been nice knowing you, but I don’t really care,” he laughed, turning to leave the room. Carl wanted to shout something back, but he didn’t know what to say. Instead, he squirmed in his seat until a strange sensation came over him. His mind started to fade. He thought of Eva and the first time that they met when he was just coming back from the brink of death. Her hair. Carl couldn’t recall: was it black, or brown, or blonde? Was she beautiful? He couldn’t remember the sight of her face. Details evaporated into smoke.
The world melted into a calm ocean where life’s doldrums were at rest. All worries vanished into oblivion. A faint song played in the background, “My grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf,” fading, “So it stood ninety years on the floor,” fading, “It was taller by half...” gone. Replaced by a different song, one that sounded more familiar.
“Look for the bare necessities, the simple bare necessities. Forget about your worries and your strife...”
The volume rose. He remembered his wife, how she died in a car crash shortly after Liam was born. Liam, where are you? Carl wondered. He wanted to see his boy again. Liam, I will find you, he said to himself. Soon Liam disappeared from his memory, too. Thoughts of him melted into the calm sea. Then, all songs faded along with his memories.
“It’s time to let go, Carl Winston,” Psychology told him. But there was already nothing left. No language, no meaning, no purpose. There was nothing to let go of. All that remained was an image of the sea reflecting light from an endless horizon.
