THE MARTIAN SCARECROW

by IMAN K. F.

  “As soon as the positive test results came in, I was moved to the subsidized refugee center. It included capsule-style sleeping accommodations, modeled after Japanese concepts. Each capsule room was barely large enough to hold a tiny individual bed, and the ceiling so low I could barely sit up in it. They also supplied me with an outdated tablet and Compu-Glasses. Initially, I used the smart glasses every day to zoom in on our house and farm in New Persia so I could see my parents. I really missed them, but I was too embarrassed to initiate any interaction. Watching them was a constant reminder of what I had done, and led me down into a spiraling depression. After a while I stopped checking on them all together.

  “The common area of the refugee center was where I hung out most of the time with other refugees in similar situations. The center also had old-technology cleaning robots that, while ancient, still got the job done. We had relatively decent food choices, most often pre-packaged meals, but once in a while we’d get warm, homemade style gourmet food.” The thought of those hand-cooked meals had me salivating. A surprise, considering how little I now eat. “Speaking of food, let’s take that break.”

  Lucas agrees. “Sounds good, I had a light lunch, so I’m starving.” He glances at the digital clock on the wall. “Jeeze, almost 5PM. Time flies.” He picks up the electronic menu placed beside my bed and asks, “What’s good here?”

  “I haven’t tried much of the solid foods. It’s pretty tough for me to swallow that stuff these days, but their cheeseburger soup is pretty decent. Can you please order one for me, and order what you feel like for yourself.” I pause, purse my lips. “But I guess you can’t really eat it here. Unless you’d like to risk taking off your mask. Nothing will happen to you. Probably. I think it’s worth the risk, don’t you?” I ask with sarcasm.

  Lucas smiles and orders the food for me. “I’ll go to the cafeteria and be back in half an hour or so,” he says as he is leaving the room.

  Within a few minutes a drone delivers my meal. I use the controls, open the curtains, and turn the bed to face the window, and look outside as I slurp my food through a straw. And even though I’m staring outside, my mind is elsewhere. I think over my past again: how simple things were, especially compared to now. Even eating has become a challenge. Things that used to be a pleasure are now nothing but pain. I know it’s been said probably a millions times, but we truly take life for granted.

  Some time passes and Lucas hasn’t returned. Definitely more than half an hour. Where could he be? Maybe he got lost in the complex. I’m sure he is fine.

  Around 5:45PM, Lucas finally returns. He sits down, looks at me and says, “I hate to do this, but do you think we can continue right away, and possibly even speed it up a little bit? I’ve been advised that we should try to complete this interview in an hour or hour-and-a-half tops.

  I nod my head in agreement. “Yup, let’s do it. I was talking about my days at the refugee center. During my stay, I spent the first few days relaxing and recovering, but I had to re-focus right away on finding a job. A year might sound like a long time to find one, but in that economy it was actually a tight deadline. I met with the job counselors almost every day. They suggested the first two months should be used to focus on enhancing my ability to speak English. That again made me wish I had Brain-Link, because it would’ve been much easier. Of course, I’d still have to practice a bit, but everything I needed would have been embedded right in. I’ve heard Brain-Link is a life-changing device, but it’s hard to describe it; one needs to experience it to truly understand its capabilities. Anyhow, without Brain-Link I had to use more traditional ways to improve my language. I relied on the Compu-Glasses to enter virtual English learning programs. I was determined, and gave it my all, which helped me improve reasonably fast.

  ”Once they deemed my English fluent enough, with help from the counselors, I started my job search in earnest. I spent months looking. There were very few jobs available that I could take on, since most I qualified for had become automated, and the need for human participation significantly reduced. Plus, many jobs required Brain-Link, since that is the only way humans can provide acceptable performance and efficiency in comparison with artificial intelligence. For those few available jobs that I could take on, there were many applicants. To be honest, I think even those could have been done by A.I. as well, but thanks to the government intervening, companies had been compelled by law to create certain jobs for humans only. Most companies didn't want to risk their business performance with potential human errors, therefore, the only jobs they made available to humans were the less complex and non-critical ones.

  “I applied for many, but had no luck. Many months went by and I was more desperate than ever before. I was so stressed that I’d started begging counselors, and at times, even cried in front them. With less than two months left to my deadline, I had just about given up hope when l finally got some positive news. During my daily checks with the counselors, I was informed about a potential opportunity: A company had approached the refugee center and asked for fifteen candidates for three available positions. The candidates needed to read provided material and then go through various tests in a few weeks’ time. These tests were going to include physical, psychological, and knowledge based segments, and based on the results, the company would then select the three best candidates for the available positions. They wouldn't share job details upfront, instead would only provide the specifics with the selected candidates. This was probably my best—and only—chance to avoid deportation. I had to give it my all.

  “I studied the material over and over again. It got to the point that I had everything memorized word for word. At least the content of the provided documents was interesting. It included sections on the evolution of humanity, impact of the industrial world on the environment, the future of our world, and necessary action plans for humanity’s survival. It also included controversial topics such as needing to establish human colonies on other planets. It provided facts and trends on how we are making survival for life on Earth almost impossible for future generations.

  “Besides studying hard, I also worked out like a maniac to prep for the physical part of the upcoming tests. There were days that I ran for hours, regardless of weather conditions. At times I got so exhausted that I would collapse to the ground, but I would always force myself back up, and continue on. I used every ounce of my energy. But I wasn't sure how to prepare for the psychological part of the test. I read some random articles on psychology and watched dozens of videos, but they didn’t really help. Even so, I have to admit that I was pretty impressed with myself. I never thought I had it in me to work so intensely. I wonder how it might have been if I always worked that hard. It seems I have to be in a do-or-die type of situation, or in a competition, in order to utilize my full potential.”

  Lucas looks at me and says, “You know you are not the only one like that. In fact, the majority of us are the same way. We only work hard if we really have to.”

  “I know, but why?” I ask, annoyed by his matter-of-fact tone. “Why do we only work hard when we’re under pressure, or in a competition? There has to be a way to keep motivated, work that hard under any circumstance. Maybe instead of stressing about defeating others, we need to find a way to compete against ourselves, work on bettering ourselves.” A simple concept, but for whatever reason actually putting it into practice is some great ordeal. “Look, I get what I’m saying is easy in theory but hard in practice. How do we convince people it’s important to work towards self-betterment? In my opinion, the key is to stay motivated consistently. And in order to do that, we need to find our true inspirations, inspirations driven by our deepest beliefs and desires; things that we truly stand for. Or wish to stand for. Let’s face it: no one works hard on things that don’t inspire them, or if they do, it’s only temporary. In my case at least, I was fueled by a strong—but temporary—motive of avoiding deportation, so I was determined to prepare as tirelessly as possible.”

/>   “So you’d work as hard as you could to avoid being sent home, but were afraid that drive would leave again as soon as your stay was secure,” Lucas says.

  “Right, exactly,” I say, chopping with my hand to accentuate the point. “Anyways, after all that hard work, the test days arrived. That first day, we had face-to-face interviews involving theoretical questions on the previously provided material, followed by some behavioral questions. During the behavioral part, they wrapped a monitoring device around my wrist and placed an electronic cap on my head. ‘To monitor heartbeat and brain activities,’ they said. Supposedly, those gadgets would analyze whether our responses truly aligned with our actual beliefs. A not-so-subtle message that we should be honest and truthful, since they would know anyways. It wasn’t what I was expecting, and I’ll be honest with you—I’d been disingenuous countless times in the past to get what I want. Everyone is, but the interesting part is why we make that decision, since we’ve all seen that often what we achieve by being dishonest is not what we truly need, or not even necessarily something that would be to our benefit.” I twist my face, remembering how often I’d been dishonest in the past. “Needless to say, I’d never experienced my sincerity being monitored, so I panicked at the beginning, and only managed to calm down after deciding to simply be truly myself. After all, my name means genuine in English; at least I should act like it for short period of time.”

  “That makes sense.” Lucas’ eyes crinkle from his smile.

  “The first few questions were pretty easy, but they quickly grew more challenging. They asked me about my thoughts on humanity proactively needing to become multi-planetary, a subject I’d never considered very deeply. It’s not that I didn’t care, but I’d always been focused on… well, my own challenges rather than the entire human race. I started sweating; my hands were shaky, and I stuttered, ‘C-can I have a little more time to think?’ The fear nearly overwhelmed me—I knew this was my last chance. After a few moments of hesitation, I got my thoughts together as best I could, and started by explaining who I was: a young man from New Persia who had risked everything coming to the U.S. in pursuit of a better quality of life. However, I had to point out that this wasn’t the case for all the refugees. Others had fled mainly for survival reasons after facing a variety of harsh conditions. For instance, some had suffered from a lack of resources, some had experienced endless violent wars, lived in dangerously toxic and polluted environments, or faced extremely hot and cold weather due to global warming. These examples were a clear indication to me that the next generation’s survival might be at risk. ‘It makes sense to have a plan,’ I said ‘if we care about making humanity last.’ I emphasized that I wasn’t saying we should give up on this planet; in fact, we still need to do what we can to save it, but not having a backup plan is a risky and even irresponsible move. After answering with such conviction, I felt more comfortable with the rest of the test.” I catch Lucas’ eye. It felt important to me, for some reason, that he believe I meant it. “I tried my best to be genuine, and I thought it might have paid off.

  “On the second day, we all had to go through an hour of exercise for the physical exam. Much shorter than what I had expected. We ran, and lifted weights while our body performance was analyzed by workout monitors. I guess they just wanted to make sure we were at least reasonably fit.

  “The third day of testing was the toughest, at least for me. Without receiving any instruction, we were sent to individual rooms, empty except for a chair in the center illuminated by a dome of light. A bucket and a large bottle of water sat beside the chair.

  “As soon I walked inside, the door automatically slid shut behind me. So I sat on the chair for a good while, waiting for further instruction, but hours went by and nothing happened. The more time that passed, the more uneasy I felt. It was eerily similar to when the Vendettas had locked me in a room. After a while, I heard banging on the walls around me, startling me from my chair, until I realized it was the other participants growing restless, demanding to know what was going on. I didn’t join in. I can’t say why, but I was certain if I acted the same, it’d ruin my chances. It was tough sitting there doing nothing, and I admit banging on the walls and shouting started to seem like the best option. So I got up walked around a little bit, and drank some water, trying to distract myself. The bucket’s presence made sense at least; I had to use it once or twice to pee.

  “That doesn’t sound pleasant,” Lucas says, twisting his face in a grimace.

  “It wasn’t. But better than the alternative.”

  Lucas chuckles, and I smile.

  “A few more hours went by. More and more participants were losing their patience, until I was stuck in the center of what sounded like a metallic drum. I took this time to daydream. I tried to imagine what the job could possibly could be, after all this testing. Maybe working in a manufacturing company where I’d have both human and A.I. colleagues. Whatever the job, I promised myself I’d work hard to make it a success. Then maybe in a year or so I could afford Brain-Link, and eventually, save enough to pay my parents back. Then I would go back to visit them, and ask for forgiveness. Maybe I would also meet the love of my life, and perhaps have kids. Then we could go on vacation as a family. Explore the world together. The future opportunities were endless. I just had to get that job.

  “I was still lost in my daydreaming when suddenly, a hologram shaped like a semicircular screen appeared in front of the chair. I sat back down, facing the hologram screen. It started showing videos of beautiful places, world-famous monuments, cute children, human laughter, and countless other pleasing and peaceful images. Then it shifted to scenes of war, gruesome scenes—human torturing, children in pain, destruction of cities and homes. Painful scenes, and horrible, horrible sounds. This went on for hours. They’d switch back and forth, the contrast jarring between relaxing scenes followed by the most awful scenes you could imagine. As an example: in one of the scenes a bearded fellow was having his lips sewn shut. He was trying to scream, but every time he opened his mouth parts of his lips would rip. Utterly terrifying. I wanted so badly to close my eyes, to look away, but I assumed they were still watching me, so I forced myself through it. Believe it or not, the worst part was still to come.”

  Lucas shifts uncomfortably in the seat, doesn’t seem to want to meet my eyes. Maybe trying not to picture what I described to him.

  “They started showing an interview with my parents,” I continue. “I couldn’t believe they had gone through the trouble of finding them, and was extremely curious what this was going to be about. In the video, they told my parents that I was a drug smuggler, and that unfortunately I had got involved in a drug war with another gang, and had died. I couldn’t believe it. My mom burst into tears. My dad looked shocked, and fell on the floor with his hand over his chest. Mom began screaming, crying for help. Dad was having a heart attack.

  “I lost my mind watching it all happen. Tears fell down my cheeks, and rage struck, and before I knew it I’d picked up the chair and thrown it at the screen. But it was a hologram, so the chair went right through, bouncing a few times on the floor before it stopped. I kicked the bucket, urine splashing everywhere. ‘How the hell could you do something like that?’ I yelled. I bombarded them with profanities.

  “Finally, the lights came on, and a feminine voice spoke through the speakers embedded in the ceiling. ‘This is just a test,” the voice said. ‘The video with your parents is not real.’ She explained that that the video was produced purely by advanced animation programs. Lastly, she apologized on behalf of the company, and thanked me for participating in the test.”

  “I would’ve done the same thing in your shoes,” Lucas says. “What a terrible test.”

  “I was furious,” I say, “but after realizing my parents were fine, all I could think about was how I’d blown the test. I only had a few weeks left on my visa deadline—there was no way I could get a job now.

  “Both physically and mentally e
xhausted, I spent most of the next few days in my capsule, and only came out for food and bathroom breaks. About a week later, the test results came out and, as expected, I was not selected in the top three. And with only two weeks left, I’d given up on finding another job. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to happen. I’d have to go back and start fresh in New Persia, and hopefully my experiences would somehow help me in the future. If nothing else, the ordeal helped me realize what it felt like to fail and, more importantly, how hard it is to cope and have the strength to continue. After all, life would go on.”

  “Life goes on,” Lucas agrees, and presses a button on his recorder.

  “With about a week left in the agreement, I was asked to see one of the counselors. Thinking that they wanted to arrange my trip back to New Persia, I went down to the counseling office to meet them. Mary, the most senior counselor, was the only one in there. Mary was a sweetheart. Probably my favorite. Her short, greyish curly hair combined with her old school round, red-framed glasses gave her a unique look that I will never forget. Even more memorable, though, were her kind smiles.

  “As I entered the office I greeted her, and right away thanked her for all the help. I went on about how unfortunate it was that my time at the refugee center was over, but it still had been the experience of a lifetime. I was so busy describing my experience that I almost didn’t notice her trying to interrupt me. She looked excited, had her hand clenched near her chest, and sat with her knees semi-bent as if ready to jump into the air. ‘I have good news, if you stop talking for a second!’ she yelled over me. I stopped talking.”