The Free City

by Marius Pitigoi

  “If they wanted to teach animals how to speak, why didn’t they start with parrots? They can imitate sounds better than dogs,” asked Dylan.

  “Yes, but they are not as smart. Nor as easy to train,” said Lydia.

  “I beg your pardon. You mean as easy to educate.”

  “Laugh all you want, but these results are amazing. We already have at our disposal techniques by which we can teach dogs to speak.”

  “Speak what?” asked Dylan. “All they can do is bark in a certain way. That is all. When a dog is able to tell me why it likes wagging its tail, that’s when I’ll get excited. Until then, it’s just barking.”

  “It’s a language, however. You can communicate through sounds. That is the most important thing. If you don’t understand Japanese, for example, that means you consider the Japanese language to be just barking?”

  “It’s not the same thing at all. I could learn Japanese if I wanted to. And if a Japanese person wanted to learn English, they could learn it just the same. We have letters. There is a whole science dedicated to the study of sounds. It’s called phonetics.”

  “It’s true there are no letters in barking,” said Lydia. “Yet, we’ve just started to study this. There are sounds very similar to words. Let’s not forget that thousands of years ago people started writing by using pictographs that represented objects.”

  “Write, yes. Not talk. For humans, vowels and consonants already existed. The language as such already existed. The problem was representing those sounds.”

  Meanwhile, in front of them, an image displayed a scene of a dog walking through the woods. In the documentary, a label was placed at the top of the screen above the dog that told us its name: SURVIVOR. The dog looked confused as it would often turn around and look over its shoulder. From time to time, it barked. It wasn’t a special bark that might draw your attention. There were other ways through which the dog tried to express itself. At one point, it reached a glade where a second dog came into the picture: PILOT. SURVIVOR ran toward the second dog. It then stopped two meters in front of the other dog and barked. The barking now seemed articulated. PILOT barked back.

  The dogs walked together through the forest and soon reached a shelter. There were no people around. A bark different from SURVIVOR’s resulted in a door to the shelter opening, giving them access to a room with food. After eating to their hearts’ content, the dogs left that room and another bark resulted in opening another door to a new room where they could find water.

  PILOT left the first dog at the shelter and ran back into the forest. He returned followed by a third dog: BRUTE. The third barked but to no end. He kept running back and forth from SURVIVOR to PILOT and back, but nothing happened. Lydia explained:

  “All three dogs learned the greeting sound. As you noticed, when they met, they all barked the same way. Of course, the timbre was a bit different. But if you pay attention to the way the pertaining acoustic waves are represented, you’ll see they are very similar. In their language that means I’M A FRIEND or rather I’M A FRIENDLY. PILOT’s task is to bring back from that clearing all the dogs that know how to say they’re friendly. Even more than that, if you play it back a bit, you’ll see how the first dog shown in the documentary, BARBARIAN, who has received no training whatsoever, is taken by PILOT to a place in the opposite direction of the shelter. The dog recognized SURVIVOR and BRUTE by the way they addressed it. So it brought them both back to the shelter with food and water. As only SURVIVOR knew how to also ask for those items, it was the only one that received them.”

  “Okay. So if they bark a certain way, they receive food. Big deal,” said Dylan.

  “It is a big deal. A certain bark for food, another for water, and yet another for a greeting. It’s a start. They are capable to recognize another’s voice and understand basic messages.”

  “You know what would be cool? If they learned to ask for sex.”

  “You’re such a pervert! Animals go into heat and only during that period, due to physiological changes; the females are sexually active.”

  “Well, yeah. Only during that period. What if they knew how to ask for it?”

  “Stop fooling around! Who would be willing, in your opinion, to teach dogs that?”

  “Well, it’s science, dear. There’s no shame in it. It’s like saying it’s shameful to become a gynecologist.”

  “You don’t understand. Female dogs are not sexually active outside that time frame. It’s as simple as that. From a hormonal point of view, if you prefer, they are not able to perform. That’s one of the big differences between people and animals.”

  “Well, women have periods, too. Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Anyway, a conversation like that between two dogs would be so cool. “Bow wow… (friend)” “Bow wow (friend) bow (sex?)” “Wow (no) bow wow (not even oral?)”

  Dylan laughed himself into fits. He was delighted that he was still able to laugh. It took him a while to stop.

  “Do you think about anything other than sex?”

  “These days, not really.”

  Dylan hugged her tightly. He told her the truth. He had missed her a lot. All the recent events, all the tension building up, made him forget about sex completely. But he had been lucky enough to find a woman who loved him a lot. So much that she had left everything behind and followed him to this place—this prison that only created an illusion of freedom, but in fact, was a fantasy of sorts. At least that was how he perceived things.

  Chapter 13

  On the afternoon of May 31, in the afternoon, Robert Gomez let them know that the three of them were expected in Krugar’s mansion. There, Dylan and Lydia would have to take an oath of allegiance. That was the ritual. They both had to come because Lydia was also involved. Afterward, the mission would officially begin. Once again, they still didn’t find anything suspicious. In New Hope, many things were done differently.

  They held hands for the entire trip. They laughed and were in good spirits. Lydia was visiting The Island of the Rich for the first time, commenting about all she saw around her. Many of the houses were more luxurious than those even in New York. On the island there was no monotony, everything was done very tastefully.

  “Honey,” said Lydia, “when we met, this place didn’t even exist. Look how much they’ve built in just ten years. Do you remember how you were trying to convince me to vote for it?”

  “Yes, I remember. I would vote differently now.”

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t expect someone like Krugar to be in charge here.”

  As they entered the mansion, Dylan recognized Sarah Sanchez. He dared to make a joke: “No shootings this time, okay?” No smile from her.

  As the door closed, Sarah took out her Taser and shot them both. Two robust men picked them up as they were only half-conscious, placed them on some chairs, and tied them up. Duct tape placed over their mouths prevented them from talking.

  The curtains were drawn. No one could see in from outside. Dylan and Lydia tried to mumble, but finally gave up. For the moment, nobody paid any attention to them. Standing, there were at least six men, not including Krugar, and Sarah Sanchez. They were all waiting.

  At some point, Sarah Sanchez and another man went into an adjacent room. They returned accompanied by a fellow dressed in a suit, holding a briefcase. He looked at them and then took out a device to scan their retinas and fingerprints. Yes, it was all right, he told them. He handed the briefcase to Krugar, who opened it and briefly counted the money inside. It was all right for him as well. Neither Dylan nor Lydia understood what was going on. Were they being sold as slaves? Krugar stood up from his armchair and beckoned the others. They followed him out a secondary door. Only the two of them and the guy who had brought the money were left in the room.

  And then the harsh truth was revealed. Gabriel Hall entered the room, accompanied by other four men.

  “Finally! You bastard! Did you think you’d get away w
ith this?”

  Dylan had indeed thought he would get away with it. But now he realized only a miracle could save him. Lately, he thought a lot about how he would die. He tried to balance everything he had done. He considered the murder he committed an accident, just as automobile accidents used to be. He didn’t think he was completely innocent, but he also didn’t think his whole life should be judged based on that one occurrence. And everything else he had done in life, except for that night, told him he was a good man, who had accomplished his duty as a citizen. But now his time had come. And so what? Sooner or later, we all die. By being murdered, he would pay for his mistake. He would leave this world in peace.

  “How could you murder—kill your friend?”

  Gabriel flung himself at Dylan with clenched fists and hit his face as hard as he could. Dylan’s face was soon covered in blood. Gabriel Hall’s fists hurt him after so many hits. He ripped off the duct tape that prevented them from talking.

  For Lydia, this was a nightmare. She’d be forced to watch Dylan be murdered. Dylan had no doubt he would be killed. That way Gabriel would be punishing Lydia as well. He considered her just as guilty as Dylan. When the duct tape covering Lydia’s mouth was ripped off, she begged Gabriel Hall, tears streaming down her face:

  “Please, sir, don’t kill him. Don’t take him away from me. He’s everything I have in this world. Please!”

  Gabriel Hall watched her disgustedly.

  “Don’t worry, my dear. I won’t kill him.” Gabriel turned to his men. “Wipe away his blood, and keep his eyes open. I want this scumbag to see everything. To see and remember everything for as long as he lives—and to wish he had never been born.”

  Austin Perry and Wayne Sanders turned Dylan around on his chair to face Lydia. One held his head and the other his lids so he couldn’t blink. The pain he felt turned into horror. He feared that in his madness, Gabriel Hall would kill them both.

  “Please!” cried Dylan. “She didn’t do anything. Kill me…I am the guilty one…please…kill me, but leave her alone…”

  They were both begging, tears in their eyes. They each thought the other one would be killed. Through all of the Pleases and I beg yous and have mercys, he turned to Anthony Morris: “Do what you have to do.”

  Anthony Morris took out a knife with a fifteen-inch blade and, with a single move, he cut Lydia’s jugular. Blood gushed all over the place. Lydia could no longer speak. With her last breath, she managed to utter: “Nooo….I…..Dyla…”

  Dylan was screaming. “What have you done! Why her! She was innocent! What have you done!”

  “Look closely, you dirtbag. Now you know how it feels when someone you love dies! Look at what you’ve done. This is all your fault! Wouldn’t it have been better if you killed yourself? Now it’s too late. You’ll have to live with this forever!”

  Austin Perry and Wayne Sanders released Dylan. He watched desperately as the last drops of blood dripped out Lydia’s body into a puddle underneath. He was in a state of altered consciousness. He wasn’t even sure if he was dreaming or not.

  Dylan screamed.

  “NOOO…Why! This is not happening! What have you done??? Nooo…I need to wake up! This is not real. Nothing really happened. It will be fine, my love!”

  “He’s delirious,” Patrick Morris noticed.

  “Madman! It’s real. It’s very real. And remember, it’s your own fault. I told you in the courtroom that you would pay.”

  The show was too bloody for Gabriel Hall. He had never watched someone die before. Let alone like that. His revenge was now complete. The truth was, the image of Lydia with her throat slit would haunt Gabriel as well. He didn’t need to add anything else to the image.

  “Let’s go!” Gabriel commanded.

  They all left the room, leaving Dylan alone with Lydia. Her head hung to one side, her eyes open. It was more than a cry. It was more like a howl.

  “Nooo…nooo…nooo…”

  A short while later, Sarah Sanchez entered the room with a few men. They injected Dylan in the left shoulder with something that immediately knocked him out.

  Chapter 14

  When Dylan woke up, he was in his room, in bed, lying on his back. He felt Lydia next to him. He dreamed the whole thing! What a nightmare. He turned to Lydia and took her in his arms. Her eyes were wide open and her throat was slit. It wasn’t a dream! He remembered them cutting her jugular and her blood spraying over the whole room, including him.

  He started crying. He hugged her. She was so cold.

  “No…my love…what did they do to you???...why?...Why wasn’t I the one who died?”

  Dylan put his hands on his head, rolled over, and fell off the bed. He didn’t feel any pain at all. He lay squirming on the floor, refusing to believe what happened. So much perversity! What kind of people would do such a thing?

  Yes, he was guilty and he had to pay for that, maybe even die. But him, not Lydia! How was it fair that someone else could pay for you? Damned New Hope and those who had created it! A world with no laws! Wasn’t it obvious that when there were no laws the most terrible things could come to life? That you could be easily killed? And nobody would pay the consequence.

  When crimes are committed in New York, the offenders are exiled to New Hope, but once in New Hope crimes are committed with no fear of repercussions. Even more, they just return home as if nothing ever happened. There were probably lots of psychos who only came to New Hope to hunt and kill. New Hope is stupidity. It never should have been created.

  Dylan’s mind was desperately trying to escape reality. He spent hours lying on the floor, moaning and lamenting his fate. He was unable to get up. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Lydia like that again—torn. He felt no cold, no heat, and no pain—even though he was bruised from the blows he had taken to the face. He didn’t even know how long he had been lying there on the floor.

  Eventually, he looked at the watch on his bracelet; it was 4:00 a.m. He didn’t doubt those were his own bracelets. They had probably changed them back to his own while he was unconscious. He stood up and walked out of the room. He didn’t care that was dark outside. He headed straight for the ward. He didn’t see anyone on the way.

  Dylan went straight to the information desk. As expected, he encountered no problems entering the ward, which confirmed that the bracelets, in fact, belonged to him. A tall, brunette woman, who did not look older than thirty, listened to him without interrupting.

  “…scoundrels…cowards… they killed my Lydia...you understand? Do you understand? They cut her in front of me. As you’d cut a loaf of bread. No remorse, no trace of emotion…animals…can’t you see? In New Hope only beasts live…how can you be so blind?...I saw the blood springing out of her…life leaving her body…you do realize….they cannot be called humans…no way…”

  The employee listened to him. She saw he was in shock. She typed something and now just looked at him. Her stone-like gaze showed no compassion, which Dylan immediately could sense. However, after a few moments, a man in a white coat who introduced himself as being the doctor on duty joined them. He took Dylan to a separate room. Dylan went on with his story, although he didn’t manage to be coherent.

  “…the barbarians…do you know what they did? … They slit her throat…”

  The doctor gave him an injection and listened quietly. He had a very expressive face. He seemed to really care. During a second of silence, he interrupted.

  “Please, calm down. You are in the ward’s clinic. Be assured that we will help you.”

  Dylan didn’t resist the injection. He had already endured his worst pain. The sedative started to work, and his breathing returned to normal. His tears began to ebb.

  The doctor went on: “So Lydia’s dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know where she is now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “In my studio apartment.”

  “Hmm…in your apartment? How did she get there?�
�

  “I don’t know.”

  “Okay.”

  The doctor thought quietly for a few minutes.

  “Stay here for a bit. We’ll send a team to bring Lydia’s body to a safe place. I’ve given you a strong sedative. I want you to rest for a while. After you wake up and when you are ready, you can tell us everything that happened. What matters now is that you gather some strength. We will help you get through this.”

  The doctor made Dylan lie down and stayed with him until he fell asleep. However, rest eluded him, a recurring dream kept agitating his sleep. Lydia was walking alone in an alley, near the shore of a lake. It was a clear morning. Behind her, a cackle of hyenas could be heard; the hyenas were coming after her. On the other side of the lake, Dylan was watching the whole thing. He yelled as loudly as possible, “Lydia, run! The hyenas will attack!” But she couldn’t hear him. She was walking peacefully, playing with her hair. “Run…!” and when the hyenas attacked, he woke up. He would fall asleep again only to be jarred awake by the same dream.

  When he woke up more awake, a different doctor came in and gave him another injection. While lying down again, he tried to fall asleep, but the same dream kept haunting him. The next time he woke up, he was hooked to an IV. He couldn’t remember who attached it or why. Tied to the IV carrier was a screen on which was written “If you need assistance, press the red button” with an arrow pointing to a button. Dylan pressed the button and a doctor came to him. He couldn’t tell if he met this doctor previously or if it was another. He was still confused.

  “I plugged in the IV because you were getting dehydrated. It also contains glucose and sedatives. You will feel better in a short while.”

  “What happened to Lydia?”

  “She was found in your studio, just like you said. Unfortunately, there was nothing we could do for her. Her body is being sent to her family. Her relatives will take care of the funeral.”