The Entropy Sessions

by Novo Dé

  You can see an almost scary, burning intensity in Cohen’s eyes now, an expression I’d never seen before, clearly from a man I thought I knew, but can see now, I know nothing about.

  “I know I know. Not what you were expecting today. A real change of pace. You, for one, are used to doing all the talking. But now. The fact that you’ve qualified it. Finally. We’re here. There’s so much I want to tell you, that I can tell you now. Finally.

  Especially after that little fight you had with Juliet. She really let the cat out of the bag on that one didn’t she? We didn’t see that one coming. Bet you didn’t either. And we all told her she just needed to wait a little longer. Just a little longer. But…she didn’t listen,” he says, hanging with a pause. “It’s ok – we’ll deal with her later. Plus, we wanted you to watch her anyway once you activated your NCL, and made sure you could.”

  I don’t know what to say. What to do.

  “You don’t see it yet, but you will – now is our time Tybalt. Now we get to revisit a conversation we’ve had to put to rest for so long. So long. But I knew it. I knew we were close. I just didn’t think it’d be today.”

  “But I wanna hear about Juliet,” I finally say, not knowing what else to say really, my body, clinging to the chair, fear wrapping me in its web. What the fuck is even happening?

  “And you will, you will. But let me ask you this first…how long do you think you’ve had that NCL?”

  And my muscles tighten again.

  “I dunno, maybe, four weeks or so.”

  “What if I told you…you’ve had that NCL much, much longer than four weeks?”

  “I’d tell you to get off your fuckin’ meds again.”

  “Ah there’s the Tybalt I know,” he says laughing. “Ok. What If I told you…you’ve had that NCL…long before we even met?”

  And to that question, I had no response. The question simply making me think, making me retrace all my lingering deep memories for any kind of rebuttal, before my ‘denial’ takes over once more.

  “That’s impossible doc. I mean, I literally just had the surgery. I remember everything: the initial contact, the pre-op consultation, layin’ down, meetin’ the doctor, driftin off, dreamin,’ and then seein’ him again after the procedure with a fuckin’ black dot on my temple. It was clear as fuckin’ day—”

  “Did you though?” he asks almost immediately, a sure, inquisitive tone in his voice. “Think.”

  “I mean…” and I lose myself in thought again.

  I literally just had the surgery. I remember. Everything. It happened. I mean I think it happened.

  And Cohen’s is staring at me again, smiling.

  “Ok. Let’s approach this from…a different angle,” he presses, then stares, my mind at full attention. “Ever notice anything odd about our little chats?”

  And I respond merely with a displaying of the hands and a superior shrug of the shoulders.

  “Any strange breaks? Pauses? In our conversations? Like having an awakening in the middle of a session?”

  “I don’t, I don’t kn…”

  “But I think you do – I know you do in fact – you’ve seen it in others, for a long time now…”

  And I grow silent again, and I tip my head down, my eyes now peering at the floor, while Cohen just rambles on, a side I’ve never seen in him before.

  “Think Tybalt. Try to remember. Think of all our long conversations together. Think of those times when you seemed so scattered. Like you had to recalibrate after a long—”

  “Update,” I finally say, the memories beginning to trickle in, like a lock suddenly opening in my mind.

  And Cohen smiles, and begins to nod.

  “Exactly.”

  “My god,” I say under my breath, almost at a whisper, as I begin to remember a world once forgotten.

  “You never stopped to think how odd it was that you, acclimated, to the device so fast? How could that be Tybalt? I mean, how could that be?”

  I can’t answer him. I can’t seem to utter any words at all in fact, my vocal cords overcome with amnesia again.

  No words on his side now. He pauses as he sees I’m trying to bring myself to the reality of the situation, to process the past, as the memories begin to linger in.

  “Do you see it now Tybalt? That there was no operation a month ago. Just another fantasy. Because, because, you’ve always had that NCL…”

  I close my eyes, and take in a deep breath. And the memories return – A flood in fact.

  And I see myself. Before the trial. Before the incident. Before the drugs. Before anonymous. Before the depression. Before it all went to hell. With Juliet. Us trying to find each other again, saving each other again, going in hand-in-hand, on the operation table, together.

  And Cohen smiles, and begins to nod, allowing me time for it all to sink in.

  “But?” I finally utter, almost at a whisper

  “Why didn’t we address this sooner?” he quickly responds. “We did actually. But the delusion. The delusion you created after the breakdown, was, nothing like we’ve ever seen before. You rejected all constructs of the world that came after the NCL, trying to live in a time in your mind when you were more at peace, but still recognizing and living in the present to some extent.

  Even mentioning the NCL, any NCL, made you become violent, sometimes ill. Now add in the effects of Anonymous on your memory and its well known hallucinogenic effects on the psyche and—”

  “My god,” I say again, well above a whisper this time.

  “We knew we had to take a different approach in your recovery. We knew we had to help you help yourself essentially. Wean away from the drug and allow your mind to recalibrate, slowly, to reality once more, giving you time to come to your own realization, and face the one thing you had to erase from your world, as it stood, we could only assume, as a symbol, a marker, when everything started to go wrong.”

  ‘Jesus’ I then say to myself.

  “We knew that the acknowledgement of the NCL would be the key and that it would begin to help you come to terms with all the events that came after it – the depression, the incident, the breakdown – so you could begin to truly heal.

  So almost right away, we began to help shape your world for that purpose, knowing ultimately that the most important part was that you came to the full realization of your NCL on your own. And so began your journey, with the surprising twist that your mind began to use your hallucinations as a kind of guide almost, a beneficial return, in a parallel attempt to help you wake up again. Which brings us to…today.”

  Still no words.

  “Helping to shape your realization was an important part of the process. Ever wonder why Juliet was always sitting in front of that large stained-glass window? So you’d have a good view of her of course.”

  And now a feeling of despair washes over me, and then quickly hatred, hatred at thinking how much of my world had been manipulated since we met.

  “Don’t worry,” he says, reading my expression. “It was all for the process; we were only trying to help you. We did what we had to do.”

  My mind begins to race on that note: How much of the last year was real? How much a fantasy? How much of it manipulated?

  “I have, I have, so many questions…” I say almost with a stutter, still clearly shocked from what I just learned.

  “And I have your answers. By all means, when you’re ready…”

  “Well. I still don’t understand why you’re telling me all this so suddenly, like a fuckin’ Bond villain…so just? please? Just?”

  And Cohen laughs.

  “It’s the memories; they would’ve all come back, eventually, after your realization, but we needed to get ahead of it, so I had to act as a kind of catalyst, to your mind, because, because, we don’t have a lot of time, especially now that we don’t have Juliet, and quite honestly, we don’t know what you would’ve done once it all came back,” he says, pausing again. “Because Tybalt, the short answer is: we need yo
u.”

  “Need me? Why? And what’s with all this ‘we’ shit all of a sudden? And why do you keep talkin’ bout Juliet like she’s a fuckin’ – I don’t know – employee?” I say, now beginning to breathe hard, fear coming over me with each breath. There’s simply no way around it – I’m scared.

  And Cohen simply stares at me again, now with a wry smile, before finally uttering a word.

  “We’ve been studying you Tybalt,” he finally says, flatly.

  But I don’t quite process the sentence at first, the words initially sending my soul into a kind of, state of shock before settling in.

  “When I say ‘we,’” he continues on. “I’m referring to my team of course, my research team. And we’ve had quite a bit of difficultly with your case, in part because it was hard to track your DRI stream from day and day, especially after you had your little friends began to hide you in the system by hacking your feed. Hence our sessions together. But it was Juliet that was really the piece de resistance.”

  “What did you do—”

  “Don’t worry – nothing ill came of your little Juliet – we simply made a deal with her. We’d take care of everything, manipulate the trial proceedings, pay off the judge, keep you out of jail, and she’d simply have to help us keep tabs on you, help us study you, watch you, and report of course.”

  She really was trying to save me.

  But at what price? She must have given up her entire world for me. So many lies, so many secrets, hiding me from the truth, so I wouldn’t be put away. I can’t imagine what she had to go through.

  “The game was quite the balancing act. Y’see, you had your NCL simply locked in its ‘off’ mode this whole time, the updates the only operation that really got through in such a mode, so it was difficult to acquire your DRI on a daily basis for our research purposes. So we needed someone on the inside. And at the same time, we knew, eventually, you’d realize the reality of your delusion. We just didn’t know when.”

  “But why me? I’m, I’m nobody.”

  “Ah but there’s where you’re wrong Tybalt – you’re special – you’re so very special. The belief you had in your delusion was incredible, became your identity after you believed it, you’re everything. Something we’ve never seen before. And as it were, something we’ve been trying to find for quite some time actually. And understand. Something we’ve tried to data mine through all the DRIs of the world without any real success,” he says with a pause again. “Until we found you. And the fact that your mind used your hallucinations to…somehow better you…is simply incredible; that it helped you recalibrate, is also something we could really learn from,” and Cohen smiles that wry smile again.

  “You know very well that the world is sick Tybalt,” he continues. “The world is sick and all that information in your head could help change that. I know our methods may be a bit unorthodox, but think about what we’ve accomplished – you’re using less and less – you’re finding yourself again, you’re seeing reality once more, and your place within it. You’re happier. Healthier. More of the ‘old you’ you’ve talked so much about. Admit it.

  Sure, things have changed. Some not to your liking, but that’s also the reality of life. But you cannot deny you’re not in a better place now than you were a year ago,” he pauses, to let me think about what he just said. “Now think of that same kind of change on a larger scale. You could help change everything you’ve been complaining about in the last year…if you simply helped us. Just participate. That’s it. That’s all we’re asking. But you have to comply willingly.”

  He doesn’t have Juliet anymore. And now that I’m waking from the sleep of my delusion, he doesn’t have a subject independent from bias to observe anymore. He does need me indeed. But where we would go from here, I do not know.

  “What’s going to happen to Juliet?”

  “Nothing actually. Nothing has to happen.”

  “Did you put her up to it then? At the end—”

  “No, no, actually, that was all her Tybalt; we had nothing to do with that. It appears…she had a breakdown of her own.”

  And my stomach sinks.

  “She really is gone then,” I then say to myself at a whisper.

  “I mean surely you’ve got others. Other subjects, you could study. Because, I’m not sure I can do this, it—”

  “Indeed there are others. We have quite the large sample size these days actually. But there are limitations to what we can do right now. And there is…no one like you.”

  “Limitations? I thought a guy like you would have endless resources to—”

  “We did at one time, but we lost our funding a long time ago. And after that, with no additional financiers, we found ourselves lost. And it was at such a pivotal time in our research. And we just couldn’t stop then. Oh no. So, we got creative and knew we had to break some rules…to continue.”

  “I don’t kno—”

  “I know you don’t know what to say, so I’ll say it for you – we need you Tybalt – and my colleagues are convinced that the only way to continue forward with the project is with you coming back to us voluntarily. And to convince you that I, I’m really not the bad guy here, I want you to know that you have full power over that choice,” he says with a pause, allowing that idea to hang with a heavy heart. “So take your time. Take the time to really think it over. But keep in mind: we don’t want to have to retaliate if you decide to make a bad choice, so remember to keep this all to yourself, and know that there will be consequences if you try to reach out to the police or any kind of law enforcement – understand?”

  And I nod my head ‘yes.’

  “Good – now if you choose to come back, which we hope you do, know that you will be taken care of for the rest of your days, as long as you comply with the testing, the research, and the evolution of the research as it comes to pass.

  But.

  If you decide to walk away, you can sleep well knowing that we will never come to bother you again, that you will indeed be free to live anyway you want, and you will be released from the court order, of course with the constant need of your silence on what you’ve learned today, which we will inevitably have to monitor, easy now as long as you leave your NCL ‘on,’” Cohen says, staring. “So then…do you understand our little…terms and conditions Tybalt?

  And I nod my head ‘yes.’

  “Excellent – and from the look in your eyes, I believe we have an understanding – and I think I can say with some confidence that I look forward to our next session together my good man, with an answer I think we’ll both be happy to hear. So until then, think long and hard, and know that the answer that includes my happy ending may also include a reconciliation with your Juliet. The choice is yours,” he says with a piercing glare in his eye, to say that my retraction may have the opposite effect on Juliet. “As always, Tiffany will see you out. And until then, we’ll be watching. Good day.”

  And as usual, Cohen gives me a final set of non-verbal language, lowering his head to his tablet to type in notes, telling me again that our time is over. Just like that.

  And strangely, I find myself simply getting up with no opposition as always, simply gravitating toward the door again, subconsciously, accepting what just happened, a goodbye with my back to the doctor as I exit the white room, unsure what will come next.

  March 1st, 2052

  I am Ouroboros.

  March 2nd, 2052

  Feeling the sting of rope at my neck, I try to contemplate any other plausible option. And the noose hasn’t even been tightened yet. If I’m lucky, an overdose comes first, but, one can only hope.

  Couldn’t think of any other place to do it, but in front of that same fucking wall I always find myself in front of. That same wall I’ve stared at time and time again. That same wall that I’ve spent so much time with…with CHARLIE, with Juliet, with myself…now just another telescreen for Cohen to spy on me with.

  CHARLIE’s in his sleep mode, but I’ve carefully set him t
o wake after I’ve already kicked out the chair from under me, hopefully after a quick snap of my cervical rather than a long, drawn out strangulation. Better yet, if I’m lucky, that overdose comes first, but one can only hope.

  And when he wakes and sees me there, dangling from the ceiling, my head hanging low, the dead in my eyes, my mouth partially open, my face blank, cold, my body swaying gently to and fro, much like an update, I hope he shows the world.

  Take as many shots as you’d like CHARLIE. Upload them to as many sites as you want. Just make sure that it gets to Cohen, and most importantly, to Juliet.

  Show them.

  And then, maybe I can do some saving for once.

  You would think I still have a choice, but really, I don’t.

  Tightening the noose around my neck, the rope moves from a sting to that of something sharp like a blade. But it doesn’t matter; it’ll be over soon.

  But first, one last no-name, just a little more Anonymous, before the final kick.

  As I swallow that last, little piece of death down, it happens – the rush, the push of the drug – all of it.

  My head then slowly cocks back, and with a close of my eyes, I take in a deep breath, and begin to feel…everything…everything all at once.

  Opening my eyes, my head returns to neutral and I’m looking at the nothingness of the wall again. I reach for the noose to finish the job but I feel nothing. I look for the chair but I see nothing. All I see now is the blank wall, my body now motionless.

  My peripherals search for an answer, but all I see is the white of the walls, now on all sides of me, moving on to eternity. It reminds me of Cohen’s office room at first – how I hate that fucking room and now this room too.

  Where the fuck am I?

  The oceans then hit, a tsunami today, filling me with a sense of wonder, a cornucopia of sensations I’ve never felt before, and the white room becomes nothing more than a faded memory as if it happened years ago.