by Clint Stoker
Her words hung in the air. She would have liked to say more but opted not to half-way through the sentence.
“What do you think this place was?”
“The truth? It was a village but everyone died, all at once.”
“How do you know that?”
“The other theories don’t make sense.” she paused. “My superior gives me the information about these sites. It isn’t my job to know where the ideas come from.”
“What?” Air was taken back by her candid responses.
“I really don’t know much else. I think you know more about this place than I do, Air. Why don’t you fill me in?”
“That’s ridiculous.” He hinged forward and lifted himself from the ground. “What would give you that impression?”
“Let’s be honest. The only reason everyone in the city has a volunteer day is so everyone can feel good about themselves. It’s just a self-righteous gesture.”
Air smiled crookedly. What kind of service guide would say such things? He laughed expecting it to be a joke, but Anna-Desi maintained a firm composure.
“I know why you’re here.” Her face tightened solid.
Air moaned inside, already thinking about reaching for his gun.
“Did the old man send you to jerk me around? I’m not going to play his games anymore!”
“Calm down,” She laughed, “I’m not good with subtleties so don’t get up-tight when I bring you up-to-speed.”
“Okay, so why did Fields send me here with you?” Air snapped.
“I know he sent you here to retrieve a memory. I do my part to assist the cause by taking people like you to retrieve those memories.”
“Well it isn’t working. I haven’t remembered anything.”
“You might not,” She smiled, “Memories come much easier when you sleep.”
“So that’s it? Fields sent me out here for another ‘you should really get some sleep’ speech? I’m not going to let him inject me again.”
“Actually, Fields couldn’t keep up with you the other night, so I’m the one who injected you in the theater.” She struggled to contain her laughter until she finally gave in. “I’m sorry for laughing, but you just look so perturbed about the whole thing.”
Air wanted to be mad, but Anna-Desi’s laughter seemed pleasantly disarming. She made Air feel too foolish to be upset. He unwillingly smiled.
“Okay, so tell me why I’m in ‘The Hole’, because other than rifling through garbage, I haven’t accomplished anything.”
“Things change a lot over time.” She suppressed a grin, cranked her head and made a mental head-count of the volunteers. “If you don’t want to see something, I can guarantee you won’t.”
“Sounds like you have experience,” said Air.
“Personally, no, but I’ve helped others like you.”
“You don’t remember anything?”
“To be completely honest, I’m a little different. I remember being told what happened before the city, but I don’t actually remember anything that far back.”
“This is just getting weirder.” Air folded his arms.
“Fields wants us to learn enough to make a choice. I’ve learned just enough to regret remembering anything at all.”
“What choice?”
“I’ll let Fields explain that. Like I said, I’m still not convinced.”
“What? I thought he sent you to help convince me. Whose side are you on?” Air looked down and shuffled through the sand with his feet.
“I’m on your side, Air.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. I trust Fields endlessly. I know he has noble intentions and he is trying to help us, but I want you to have the choice to leave the past forgotten. Ignorance is best sometimes.”
“What if I like what I remember? What if it’s important?”
They stopped talking as soon as they noticed a volunteer approaching with a heavy basket in his arms. Air bent over and continued working until the volunteer was a safe distance away.
“Anna-Desi, do you mind telling me what these are?” The man panted. He dropped the basket onto the ground and it made a muted metallic chime. Anna-Desi picked a small bronze cylinder from the basket and dropped it on the ground dismissively.
“This is definitely recyclable. Other than that, they aren’t worth keeping,” she said.
She escorted the volunteer, with the basket, back to a large blue bin where he dumped the glistening cylinders. A dull chime rang out as they spilled into the bin. Before Anna-Desi returned to where Air worked, he picked up the cylinder that had fallen out of the basket. He quickly identified it as a bullet casing. 50 caliber. He closed his eyes and concentrated on remembering something but nothing came.
“Does that seem familiar?” Anna-Desi inquired.
“I know what it is, but only because of my current career.”
“You’re a purger, right?”
“Only as of late.” He tossed the casing onto the hardened sand and started back sorting.
“I’ll help you.”
They searched for and pulled items from the sand like birds pecking for grubs. Air ignored familiar debris. He combed the sand looking for saucers to fill the basket. Anna-Desi picked up on Air’s intentions and scoured the ground for the unrecognizable little plates. They worked for over an hour in silence. When the basket was full, they brought it to a small tent. Inside were several disfigured objects and a small tub. She used a brush to scrub dirt from one of the saucers.
“Before I was a service guide, I worked in the administration building. I was in charge of a lot of people and I liked it for the most part.”
The water clouded with dirt and she traded for a stiffer brush.
“I was transferred to become a service guide when I had my first memory. I was in a hospital, in the city, and this guy was telling me about the terrible experiences I had been through.”
“What did he say?” Air tried not to sound too interested.
“I had a younger sister. We were close and I loved her. We had hardly anything besides each other.” Her lip began to quiver. She let the brush sink into the tub and she opened a green bottle and poured a chemical onto the brightening silver object.
“One day, men broke the door down and they took us. We were kept in cages like animals. Terrible things happened to us. The men traveled with us for a while but they needed supplies, so they traded us to other men for a barrel of gasoline. We saw the country from a cage.”
“I’m sorry…” Air started.
“Don’t be. None of it really happened,” she said, “everyone has a horrible story but I know mine was fabricated. It doesn’t jive with the histories.”
“Why would someone make something like that up?”
“I don’t know. Fields says I was different.”
“He said that about me too.”
“Well, that’s true actually. You’re in the histories enough to verify that.”
All of a sudden, Air felt uncomfortable with the topic.
“There is something that still doesn’t make sense. What’s in this for you? Why would you trust Fields when you can’t even remember anything useful? You said yourself you aren’t on board with the cause yet.”
She thought for a moment, then shot her blue eyes back at Air. “The guilt,” she said, “I worked in the administration building. I was the one sending service guides to cover up the past. I made plenty of those theories we talked about earlier. Once I was transferred to be a guide, I felt guilty for lying. My job is to cover up the past so others don’t even have the option to remember. Before the city, awful people did awful things, it’s all in the histories, but now, I am responsible for doing awful things. I need to do something about it. It’s the only way to stop the guilt.”
She rinsed the silver disk and lifted it to get a better view.
“This is certainly recyclable, but I don’t think we’ll need it for the archives. You can toss these all in the bin.” She handed the dis
k to Air and walked to the door of the tent.
“I need to help the other volunteers finish up. We will be leaving soon.” She left Air alone.
He looked closely at the polished disk. It had a circular emblem in the center with writing engraved.
For life, for hope, for freedom.
Chapter 8
The new legislation came into effect faster than Air had anticipated. A new celebration toga and mask were waiting for him when he got back to his apartment. Both the mask and the toga were white. Boring. The new law wouldn’t last very long. At least it would help him stay undetected for the time being. It seemed suspiciously convenient.
The sun was still setting when he arrived at the central library dressed in his new garb. Streets were vacant except for a couple workmen leaving a neighboring building late for celebration. The library stood out from most other buildings in the city. It had few windows and tall double doors with decorative carvings in a colonial style. The exterior was made with large granite blocks and it stood much shorter than the sky-scrapers that towered over it on either side. The doors were usually locked to the general public. Not that anyone ever wanted to go inside. All things considered, it was among the most boring structures in the entire city.
Air sat waiting on the steps when three identical white-clad residents walked toward him. As they walked closer he could see two were men and one was a woman. Apparently women were given more decorative masks. Farce white feathers fanned out just over the eye holes.
“It’s good to see you again, Air.” Anna-Desi mischievously lifted her mask and peeked just for the sake of disobedience.
“I thought I was just meeting Fields here,” said Air.
“He’s inside already.”
The two other men stood around her like body-guards poised for intimidation.
“Is this your entourage?” Air pointed.
“This is Fenton.” She touched the taller man’s arm. It was impressive – she had a way of doing just about everything gracefully. “And this is Ganton. You should recognize him as the transport driver from yesterday.”
“How many of you are there?”
“There are seven of us involved in the cause,” said Fenton, still sizing-up Air. “Eight including Eve. Nine if we include you.” His voice was deep and gritty.
“Don’t include me. I’m not joining your cause. I just want some answers,” said Air.
“You’ll change your mind after you get those answers.” Anna-Desi started climbing the stairs to the large doors. She tapped the wood with her dainty fist and the door peeled open. A grey-haired woman with a bright smile answered and embraced Anna-Desi like they hadn’t seen each other in years.
“Is Air here?” she asked.
“Right behind me,” said Anna-Desi.
“Why does everyone in your club know who I am?” Air complained.
“Follow me.” Anna-Desi ignored his last comment.
The library had poor lighting from cone-shaped hanging lights. Massive bookshelves filled the vast room. The strong smell of mold and dust circulated the air like smoke. The grey-haired woman introduced herself as Elena. Air was surprised to see that she, like Fields, was aging. She beamed with excitement as she led them to a large wooden table to sit. Everyone had removed their masks and after a few minutes of small talk, Air removed his as well.
“Where is Fields?” Air leaned back in his chair.
“He was just taking a nap. I was supposed to wake him an hour ago but I didn’t have the heart. He’s been so tired lately. He should be down shortly.” Elena adjusted a blue screen at the head of the table.
Air sat back in his chair and sighed. He looked around the table at his new acquaintances. They all looked pleasant, for the most part, except Fenton who sat at the edge of his seat grinding his teeth. Air waited a few minutes to allow a leader to emerge from the group. Nobody had anything to say.
“It’s Ganton, right?” Air inquired.
“Yes.”
“What’s your story?”
“My story?” Ganton looked at the others as if for permission.
“Yes, your story.”
“I am a transportation specialist,” he replied sheepishly, knowing the answer would only invite more questions.
“That’s a start. Why did you join the Cause? What kind of memories do you have?” Rapid fire questions might keep Ganton talking. Air pretended it was just small talk, though no normal person could answer those questions without breaking a sweat.
“I’d rather not talk about it if it’s all the same to you,” said Ganton.
“You don’t want to talk about…” Air started.
“Leave him alone,” grumbled Fenton. His face seemed a permanent scowl. He tensed up in an instance, expecting a fight.
“I came here to discuss these kinds of things with Fields. It only seems fair that you all talk about it too. Isn’t that what this is all for? A little support group? If you don’t want to talk about it, maybe you should both leave.” Air waited for the back-lash.
Elena swooped in to make peace. “Try to be nice, Fenton. Air is doing a brave thing being here tonight.” She smiled sweet enough to stop a war.
“I’m not going to pretend to trust him,” Fenton said, “He hasn’t been through the process yet and he said himself that he isn’t on-board with The Cause.”
“Please, Fenton,” Elena frowned.
Fenton sighed and stood up to wander the library where he could stew without being interrupted.
“Already making friends, Air?” Fields appeared from behind a row of bookshelves. His eyes were puffy and his hair was a wreck.
“You’re late, Fields,” Elena teased.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was up really late last night.” Fields smiled, breathing as if he was still in a REM cycle.
“Can we start?” Air tapped the table. His patience had been long forgotten.
“Yes, of course,” said Fields, “I’m sure your volunteer work sparked a memory today?”
“How can you be so sure I remembered anything? Anna-Desi said there was a good chance I wouldn’t.”
“But you did remember something, didn’t you?”
Air stopped to survey the rest of the group. All seemed intent on finding out what Air remembered.
“If Ganton doesn’t have to talk about his memories, I don’t think I should have to make mine public either.”
“I completely understand,” said Fields. “I think it’s best that we talk about the founding of the city first.”
“Sure, let’s start there.”
Elena’s eyes brightened as she heard her queue. She pressed a small remote and the screen displayed a man standing at a podium. He wore a beret and a navy-blue suit with gold pins fastened to the right breast. Air’s chest pounded. He had seen the man before. His memory was unclear, but he was sure he knew him. Elena pressed another button and the film began.
“The country has been divided by war and anarchy for far too long. Your homes and lives have been obliterated. Peace does not subsist in this nation any longer. We have digressed to the point that war is our only means to control the bloated population of the earth, and the nation is still over crowded. Many of you are angry because of the lack of resources. This only perpetuates the violence and degradation. There are some out there, religious zealots, who would have us blame ourselves for these misfortunes. Their solution is to continue populating the world and shorten our lifespans. They would have us feel guilty for living long, healthy lives.”
The Founder leaned in on the podium and balled his hands around the sides.
“I have spent several months alone to ponder our problems. Now, I come to you with a solution. I hold in my hand a document that outlines the plans and infrastructure of a new city, a perfect city. Science has already provided us with the ability to extend our lives much longer than we can, even now, comprehend. I come to you now with the realization that we are not the problem. Our longevity and resiliency as a species is
not the problem. Guilt is the problem.”
He knocked his fists on the podium to convey his passion. And, judging by the approving roar from the audience, they were feeling the passion as well.
“These documents are now only a plan, but they can become a reality in a few short weeks. Those guilt-pushing critics have been circulating lies about my plan. They say it can’t be done, that there are too many problems for one city to solve. They are wrong. Perhaps the greatest aspect of this city is its sheer capacity. There is room enough for all who are willing to make the required sacrifices. Come with me. Leave your flawed existence. Leave your starving fallible bodies. Leave your pains, your fears, your mortality and your guilt. Leave it all for the next step in human evolution. Come live in my city. Live in peace for as long as you desire. All I require is that you leave the past behind. I welcome everyone to read my plan for themselves. Read it and accept it as your personal invitation to a real utopia.”
The image paused and Fields stood in front of the screen like a general preparing for war. “This was a video of the Founder’s most famous speech. They played it over and over again for years over radio waves and television broadcasts. They said it was to make sure everyone had the chance to accept it.”
“So one man created the city himself?” Air puzzled.
“He planned the city. We created it over decades of labor. It was always a ‘work in progress’.” Fields set a cardboard box on the table and shuffled through it. “The Founder was a compelling speaker. Millions followed him.”
“Was there any other choice, really?” Air mulled it over in his head. “If what he said is even remotely true, the city was the only option.”
“Yes, he certainly made it sound that way. But what he doesn’t say is that the city requires each resident to commit horrific crimes. The city is a labyrinth of bureaucracy. Every job description is full of menial work, but there is always a necessary evil to keep things running properly. Usually, they’re small things that most people wouldn’t notice. It’s easy not to feel guilty. Nobody has enough responsibility to have any actual power to change things. Everything is a process. You know this better than most.