C-Shapes

by Matthew Fish

  “Water…”

  When I return, I hand the glass to Cherie’s hand, which is still shaking. I place my hand over hers to help her steady herself. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Tell me about yourself.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Just tell me something random from your life.”

  “Well…” I say as I try and think of something interesting to tell her. “When I was probably around sixteen or so, I remember my parents were out of town—for work or something. They both worked jobs that took them away for weeks at a time. Well, I had just gotten my driver’s license a few months earlier, and I remember it was like a Monday and it was around two in the morning… despite the fact that I could have gotten in trouble, I got into my parent’s car and I just drove around the city at night. It was beautiful. It was so empty because everyone was asleep, but all the lights from the city were like it was awake… kind of like it was watching over all of us. While we slept, the city stayed awake and kept guard. It made me feel strange but in a good way. Like I realized the world was a much bigger place that day. I just explored for a few hours until I got tired and then I returned home. It was nothing huge—no big adventure. However, it was my first real taste of freedom. For the first time, I could go anywhere I wanted to. I could go and explore the roads that my parents would always pass by. It was a really good night. I mean it doesn’t seem so important these days, but it’s still in my memories.”

  “That sounded nice,” Cherie said with a heavy yawn. “I’ll nap now.”

  Without another word or warning, she closed her eyes and went to sleep. I have never been able to sleep so quickly or soundly. I searched around the apartment a bit until I found her bedroom and grabbed a small blanket that was folded at the foot of the bed. I covered her up and went to the kitchen to do the dishes. I finished cleaning up from earlier and took the trash out. A few hours went by and it got closer to dinner time. I figured after the hard day that Cherie had I would make her some dinner before heading home. I went through her fridge, it was fairly unusual. The contents were mainly just eggs, cheeses, bread, some French bread, some salad with a bottle of French dressing. I cut up some of the French bread and attempted to place it on the plates as neatly as possible. I cut up some variety of cheeses and made a small bowl of salad and arranged it on the plate with some French dressing. This seemed fitting.

  After setting the table, I went to the living room and I gently placed my hand upon Cherie’s shoulder. “If you’d like to get up, I’ve made some dinner.”

  “I usually do the cooking,” she said sleepily.

  “You seemed like you had a rough day, I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind,” Cherie said as she got to her feet and stretched her arms out wide and let out a long yawn. As she reached the table she got excited. “This is a perfect meal.”

  “I had a feeling you’d like it.”

  After dinner I cleaned up and put the dishes away. Cherie spent the time staring out the window. I looked around the room, noticing that she had no television. It seemed like such a cruel thing. Only Amnesiacs were allowed to watch TV. It was decided that the outside world was too much for all the other types. They were allowed music, books, just nothing current, and no television. Then again, if they saw how their kind was being treated, it would not make them happy. However, it did seem unfair to deny them the truth.

  “Do you need anything? I’ll be heading off for the night.”

  “Will you be back tomorrow?”

  “I’m scheduled for Thursday… I have another un… person to visit tomorrow,” I say, I pause before saying person, I start seeing that Unstable does seem rather harsh—even if it is the accepted term. Then I remember the caseworker stating that I should try and get Cherie out a bit more. “Would you like to come and visit with me?”

  “I don’t… I don’t know.”

  “I’m their Sitter as well. Only I knew this person growing up. I knew him for like eight years… all the way up into high school. He’s a good guy.”

  “He’s like me?”

  “Yes.”

  “If I can’t do it can I come home?”

  “Of course,” I say as I nod.

  Cherie nods in response.

  “Is that a yes?” I ask, not sure if she is nodding in agreement or nodding because I just nodded.

  “I think so.”

  “It’ll be good to get out and meet someone new, he’s a little odd at times but I think you will be perfectly fine.”

  “You will be perfectly fine.”

  “Right,” I said with a short little laugh. I thought the idea of repetition would be a little annoying, but the truth is that I find it slightly charming in a way.

  “Right…” Cherie replies as she laughed.

  “Well I’m off,” I say as I begin to head for the door. “I will see you in the morning.”

  “See you in the morning,” Cherie says as she quickly wraps her arms around me and hugs me tightly.

  “Thanks,” I say as she releases me. I feel extremely uncomfortable with the situation, but I allow it because I feel that it makes her more comfortable.

  “Thanks…” Cherie whispers as I exit her apartment.

  Back home, I kick of my running shoes and after a shower, I relax on my bed. I turn on the television just to see what is going on, I know to expect nothing good. The news, which is mostly what is on these days… has been that way for years, is talking about Texas seceding from the United States and enforcing a program where they either evict or kill all of their Unstables. They cite a loss of faith in the government and the C-Shapes program. Alaska is also considering a program and a new rogue group of Hunters is systematically killing any Unstables they come across. Hawaii has quarantined their Unstables to Maui, leaving the normal population to live on Oahu and the Big Island—a ferry now takes Sitters and other workers back and forth, but Unstables are no longer able to leave Maui. It seems that fear, and more incidents of Unstables going Aggro, is causing people to make more rash decisions. A C-Shapes spokeswoman appears on TV and attempts to assure the people that a cure will be found, that these things just take time. Whether or not people will listen is something that remains to be seen.

  Content that I have seen enough depressing news for one day, I turn off the TV and turn on my city noise machine. I feel accomplished having completed my second day with my other case. I feel much more sympathetic than I thought I would. I went into this thinking it would be just another job—however, maybe to my downfall, it is turning into something more. I already feel like these people could be my friends… that Noah could be my friend once again. However, that’s something that is looked down upon both heavily by society and my employer. I cannot let myself care about these people on an emotional level. It will end up costing me everything in the end. Maybe even my life. Still, I cannot see these people as anything other than human. As accomplished as I feel. I start to worry that I might not be cut out for this after all.

  4. Edible Stars

  As we drive out of town I look over every now and then to make sure that Cherie is doing alright with the trip outside of the city. She appears to be okay, whenever I ask she simply nods and smiles. Like the day before, she is dressed for cooler weather, so I have the air conditioning on so high that I regret not bringing a jacket. She seems to be much better today with her anxiety. Hopefully it remains that way.

  “You’re on time today,” Noah says as Cherie and I stand outside of his basement room.

  “Did you take your pill today,” Cherie says jokingly as she places her arms at her side.

  “See you brought another Sitter with you,” Noah adds as he looks confused. “Ready for my pill—just waiting for you to get here.”

  “She is not a sitter,” I say as I enter the room as Cherie follows right behind me.

  “Not a sitter…” Cherie repeats.

  “Holy shit, she the Mirror?” Noah asks as he grabs a
bottle of water from the ridiculously large stack. He pulls out the pill bottle from the drawer and shows it to me, and then he pops it into his mouth and downs the bottle.

  “Yeah, she’s a… Mirror.” I say quietly. It is common courtesy to not refer to any of the Unstables by their classification. They say that it is best they don’t know. Only the Amnesiacs know themselves by class.

  “A… Mirror…” Cherie repeats with a slightly confused tone.

  “Oh right, sorry,” Noah says as he begins to pace back and forth. “Name is Noah Williams, nice to meet you.”

  “This is Cherie Derry,” I say as I step to one side so that Cherie is not hiding behind me.

  “…Cherie Derry,” she repeats as she follows my step and hides behind me anyway.

  I turn around to face Cherie, and I lead her to have a seat on a dusty grey couch. “Just sit here for a moment, alright?”

  “…for a moment, alright…”

  I whisper to Noah, “Can we talk somewhere real quick?”

  Wordlessly Noah leads me out of the room and into an old storage room adjacent from his living quarters.

  “No changes,” Noah says as though he knows the question is coming.

  “No…” I object, “You don’t need to do that with me, I know it annoys you… it is not about that. She just needs time to reset. If we keep talking she is going to keep repeating things or mimic what we are doing.”

  “You brought another case with you?”

  “Yeah, I thought it’d be good for her to get out.”

  “Not necessary for your job, what does it matter to you?”

  “It isn’t just about the job. I just wanted to help. She had a rough time yesterday and then some asshole said something mean to her—she doesn’t understand why she can’t get out… so I just wanted to get her out. I hope it is alright with you.” I say as I try and explain the situation. I’m just glad I’ve caught Noah at an especially lucid moment.

  “Yeah it’s alright.”

  “So if she starts repeating, just take a break from the conversation and she’ll eventually be able to reset herself.” I say as I glance into the other room.

  “You an odd one, you know?”

  “Why?” I ask, confused.

  “Never mind,” Noah says as he shakes his head. “They were wrong about the rain again.”

  “It rained all day yesterday,” I say as I back away and head back towards Noah’s room. “Not here. It never rains here anymore.”

  “One day it will rain.”

  “You the same guy that came on Monday aren’t you?” Noah asks. He then turns his attention to Cherie. “Are you in training?”

  “It’s me,” I say as I grow a little upset at the drastic turn. “Ethan Chase, Remember? This is… Cherie, she is a friend that I thought would like to meet you.”

  “…a friend.” Cherie says as she looks down to the floor and bites nervously at her fingernails.

  Noah looks away to the TV set that is turned off. He gives it a good strike for no good particular reason.

  Cherie pulls her legs up to her body and wraps her arms around them.

  “She doesn’t like certain noises,” I say as I start to think that this was all a bad idea.

  “…doesn’t like certain noises.”

  Noah reaches over and grabs a bottle of water and hands it to Cherie. She nods as she takes the bottle. He then looks over to me and winks. He then spends a while looking down at the floor.

  My mind begins to change as I realize that I haven’t made a mistake. Noah is purposefully keeping quiet—he is more aware than I thought. After a short time he finally breaks the silence.

  “Good to meet you, Cherie.”

  “It’s good to meet you too, Noah.”

  “So Ethan here, he’s a pretty good Sitter, right?”

  “He’s much nicer than my last one.”

  “Thanks,” I add. Despite the fact that they are talking about me like I am not there—I still appreciate the gesture that they both think I’m doing a good job.

  “He carried me in during the rain when I couldn’t walk,” Cherie says as she continues to nervously pick at her fingernails.

  “Not a lot of Sitters would do that for anyone,” Noah says as he looks to me with an odd look in his eyes. “Even if it is their job, most of them are too afraid, or just don’t like… people like us.”

  “Not many do, not until we get cured.”

  I expect Noah to make a comment about how there is not going to be a cure or a conspiracy. However, to my surprise, he does not. Instead, he looks sad and just mutters, “Yeah.”

  Attempting to break the saddened mood, I clap my hands together and say, “Hey, how about some pizza—I’m buying of course… well C-Shape is.”

  “They’ll make you meet them at the road,” Noah says as he continues to stare at the floor sadly. “The delivery driver makes my mother roll all the way out to the road to pick up the delivery.”

  “I’m fine with that,” I say as I nod. Hearing that does make me feel rather bad for Mrs. Williams, it seems like such an unfair thing to do to anyone, let alone someone who has suffered a stroke. “I’ll meet them at the street.”

  “They’re afraid.”

  “They’re afraid…” Cherie repeats as she continues to fidget nervously on the couch.

  I place the order on my cell, and after a while I meet the deliveryman on the side of the road, just as he instructed. I swipe my phone over his and the transaction has been completed. I take the boxes of pizza back into the house. Right as I enter I am stopped by Mrs. Williams who stares at me and shakes her head.

  “It’s not right.”

  “A lot of things aren’t right these days,” I say in reply. “People are afraid and they act out of fear.”

  “What they’re doing to people like my son, everywhere… it’s not right,” She says as she begins to roll herself away without another word.

  I bring the food downstairs and place it on small clean spot on Noah’s table. The rest of it is covered in old newspapers, blank sheets of computer paper and an assortment of old pens and pencils that are neatly arranged in an order that I don’t quite comprehend. I go to the kitchen area and grab three plates, when I return I notice that both Noah and Cherie are just staring vacantly down at the floor. For a moment I wonder what they are thinking about, if anything at all. Perhaps this is some kind of drug induced state that happens, either way; I find it a little creepy and a little too familiar.

  “Hey,” I say, attempting to rouse the pair. “Let’s have some lunch.”

  As Noah reaches for a piece of pizza and places it on his plate, he turns to me and asks, “Was it raining outside?”

  “Not today, Noah,” I say as I shake my head. It appears that Noah might be going into an incoherent state.

  “In the springtime, in Paris, it rains every day—that’s when it is most beautiful,” Cherie says as she pecks at a small piece of pizza.

  “Are there stars in Paris?”

  “Billions,” Cherie says. “…more than anywhere else in the world,” she adds as she stares up to the ceiling with a forlorn look in her eyes. “I’ve been there a few times… Paris. In fact, I just got back this morning.”

  “How was it?” Noah asks as he reaches for a second piece.

  “A little disappointing,” Cherie says as she sighs heavily, but then turns to me and smiles. “We didn’t get to see the Eiffel Tower because of the weather, but… I think I’ll head back there on Sunday—and I did get to meet my new Sitter. So next time we go I think it’ll be better. So all in all, not completely disappointing really.”

  “Did you know that when we take our pills we are eating stars?” Noah says, as he pulls out his little white and blue bottle from the drawer. “Why do they call themselves C-Shapes, Ethan Chase?”

  “I don’t know…” I reply, I recall already having this conversation and how I assumed it was based upon the shape of the C, but that was at best a weak theory and how Noa
h believed that it represented the sea itself and its constantly changing, uncontrollable shape.

  “What kinds of shapes are in the sea?”

  “Why do you always assume that they mean the sea?” I ask, in a cautious tone that does not seem like it would sound offensive.

  “The bottle,” Noah says as he picks up his small container. It says Calm in the white here which represents the sky, and this little blue rolling design at the bottom are waves—sea waves. So, what kinds of shapes are in the sea?”

  “Starfish,” Cherie answers as she nods. “Stars are a shape.”

  “The pills are made from starfish,” Noah concludes.

  “Is that your new theory?” I ask as I let out a short laugh. “I suppose it’s possible.”

  “When is the last time you saw a starfish?” Noah asks as he places his bottle of Calm back into the drawer.

  “We’re in Illinois. I don’t think I’ve seen a starfish since we went on that school fieldtrip to the Shedd Aquarium down by the lake.

  “I’ve never seen any,” Noah says as he nods confidently and rubs his hands together. “Therefore I have proven my point.”

  “I’m convinced,” Cherie says as she nods in the same manner and rubs her small hands together.

  “Well,” I say as I pause for a moment to let that all sink in. “I’ve been outvoted, so I’ll just go with the majority rule.”

  “…go with the majority rule.”

  “Exactly,” I say as I smile.

  “Exactly,” Cherie adds as she smiles at me.

  Sometimes I have to laugh to myself at her timing when she mimics what I say. It almost seems deliberate, like she knows just when to mirror me at times in a way that almost makes perfect sense.

  Noah looks pale for a moment as his plate slides down to the floor. I get to my feet and pick it up, giving it a once over to make sure it is not damaged—it is fine. Noah buries his face into his hands and begins to sob uncontrollably.

  “Hey, Noah…” I say as I reach for the box of tissues and place them on his lap. “Everything is alright. There is no need to cry.”

  “No need to cry,” Cherie says as she places her hand on Noah’s shoulder.