“I feel it,” Haydon said. “This jerk, this itch in my legs, I know it’s there.”
“Well,” I returned, “maybe a call to the Number-5 clinic? That should help.”
“Nah, Wallace. Not like that.”
“Why not? I read just last week about a woman in an Illinois development that was talked through a gall bladder removal surgery. I mean, come on, Haydon. We can’t see doctors anymore. They have to show us these things anymore.”
“A different jerk,” he said.
“The other leg?” I just wasn’t getting it.
“You shit, listen! It’s metaphysical, almost paraphysical.”
Again, Haydon was very smart.
“This thing, Wallace, it’s something of a clue. Like there is something out there about to happen. Could be good, could be worse than the first of August. I don’t know. But I do know I felt the same jerk a week before the Ire. I chocked it up to stress that week, jimmy legs. But it was a sign.”
“You know, what happened to us the first of August was very mental, not supernatural or anything. Perhaps it was your brain preparing for the Ire.”
“The fuck it was!” he returned. “If my brain were going to prepare itself for the ten or so murders I committed those three days, it would have done something more than a goddamn leg jerk, Wallace.”
“I thought you said you murdered eight people.”
“Hard to keep count went I don’t remember everything. But that’s neither here nor there. The thing is, the jerk is happening again. It’s very subtle, very almost not there. I’ve not told you because I thought you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Well that’s a dumb notion, Haydon. We’re both way past disbelief in each other. I believe you.”
“Good. Because, my friend, I think it’s coming. I don’t know what ‘it’ is, but I know it’s on its way.”
“Are you afraid?”
“I am afraid, Wallace. I am fucking terrified. But I’m hiding it well.”
“You only talk to me. Why hide it? You saw me cry when I told you about my mother.”
“Different,” he calmly stated. “That was the past. This is the future. I have a fear of things to come. Always have.”
The conversation drew on well into the night past the blackout time of midnight. We were now officially inseparable.
The end of May brought about more information regarding my friend. It was about six in the morning when I heard the cell dinging.
“Haydon, it’s early,” I answered.
“What did I say when we first met, Wall?”
“I don’t know, something like hi?”
“No, you bastard. I said a gem can be found in an ocean of shit.”
I honestly have no recollection of Haydon saying such words. If anything, he thought he said it so his approaching revelation would have relevance. I pretended anyway.
“Right, yes. What of it?”
Haydon breathed deeply. He wore no shirt. This told me something was happening, as he always wore a shirt.
“I can’t believe it, Wallace.”
“Spit it out.”
“It’s...just unbelievable.”
“Haydon!”
“Diane called me.”
Stunned, the both of us.
“You’re kidding,” I said.
“Not even a little, Wallace. My wife is alive. She called me around one this morning once she found my information. We talked up until a few minutes ago. Like I said, I am in disbelief.”
“That is tremendous news!” I said, a more truthful statement never said by these lips. “Of all the bad things that have happened, it’s incredible to hear such a good thing.”
“I know,” he said.
“So, how did she survive?”
He recalled the story. It was as vivid as being there. Apparently, Diane was on the first floor of the Crown Bank building downtown when the Ire struck. She had gone to the ladies’ room and was in there alone when a commotion in the bank lobby began. Frightened by the certainty that it was a bank robbery, she remained in the toilet stall. Many minutes went by when one of the men in the bank entered the restroom to attempt to clean the blood from his body. She felt the Ire and tried to break free of the stall. The man did the same thing, scratching and pulling at the door. The saving grace was that the stall door extended all the way to the floor and almost to the ceiling with concrete walls to its sides. Also, the door had suddenly jammed.
After a while both parties became exhausted, with the man leaving the restroom in his Ired state. Diane was left in a panicked pyre of confusion, as this was brand new and terrifying. She remained in the stall until she heard nothing outside.
She left the stall to be greeted by a massacre in the bank lobby. Vomit and tears ensued, but she was still alive. She collected a bottle of water and a gun from the dead security guard and headed back into the stall in the restroom, a place where she now felt safe. She waited there until the next day when she heard the same thing I’d heard in St. Cloud. A man on a megaphone walked the street to give information and bags of food. Like the rest of us, she paid close attention to her cell and was now privy to the situation.
Eventually, Diane was part of a crew that left downtown Minneapolis for a new development along the Mississippi River a few miles south of the city. During this time she was repeatedly trying to contact Haydon to see if he still lived. But Haydon had lost his cell the day of the Ire, thus he was unreachable. Once the cabins were erected and accountability became increasingly visible, she found his name and information on the Succinct Figures Chart and immediately called him.
So I was happy for my friend. Not jealous that I wasn’t receiving a call from my dad, who I knew was dead, or from my old friends, who likely were dead or simply would be unreachable hence forth. I wasn’t angry that I did not feel the same jubilation as Haydon from a past voice reaching out to him. No, I was just happy. Happy that this man, meaning so much to me in such a short time, was rewarded greatly while swimming through the cesspool of maleficence.
Of course, the glee of the matter was limited. The capping factor was the probability that he would never actually get to see his wife again. He would never know her touch again, which, as a person who has never maintained a steady relationship, is a foreign concept to me. Nevertheless, it hindered what would have otherwise been a glorious reunion.
Haydon made me befriend Diane through my cell and for the next many months we had countless multi-tier calls between the three of us. I let them have their time alone, naturally, like a husband and wife should have. And based on what Haydon told me, they didn’t waste it through banal chit-chat.
While by October I hadn’t become as close to Diane as Haydon had desired, she was still a friend. She would occasionally call me up and tell me about something negative or nice Haydon said the previous day and I would guide her through my novella of advice. Haydon would do the same. In fact, I was quickly becoming their marriage counselor. I wasn’t bothered by it. Flattered, if anything.
~~~~
Chapter 4
Sad Wings
We’d been told about it for months. It was the news. Then finally, on October 15th, 2031, most of us got it in our daily packages at the front of our walks. And it changed everything.
It was not some medicine making us able to tolerate others. The Ire still ruled the world. No, it was a device, an electronic necklace, that did one thing, but it did it well. The necklace detected nearby human heartbeats-how it discerned between human and all other animal heartbeats remains a mystery. But it worked. The purpose? To allow safe distance in-person conversation.
Enough research had been done on the Ire in the year-plus since its start for scientists in Bern to know rather accurate proximities for Ire initiation. And it was almost always the same across the board. This was the letter that came with the necklace.
Dear Opting Survivor:
As you are very aware, our species is not the same as it was in July, 2030. No longer can
we converse in each others’ presence. No longer can we have intimate contact with another person. This affliction, the Ire to most but officially labeled Unidentified Sudden Human Proximity Mania Syndrome (SPMS for short), has changed every aspect of our daily lives. The earth’s population is now a fraction of what it was before SPMS. But you have chosen to survive, to preserve the humanity this earth has left.
The necklace in this container is a digital proximity monitor, an instrument to allow, safely, the semi-distant in-person interaction with another person while not instigating SPMS. Research has shown that the Ire symptoms begin within thirty feet of another’s presence, though it is within fifteen feet when action must be taken, i.e. the death of the offending human. All tests have shown this to not be the norm, but rather the absolute rule. Beyond thirty feet is what is referred to as the Calm Zone. For this, the necklace alerts, through flashing lights on its surface and a piercing whistle, if the Calm Zone is coming close to being violated. The light action and whistle both increase in intensity the closer the other human heartbeat reaches.
Your heartbeat requires syncopation with the necklace to rule out invalid heartbeat readings. Instructions for syncopation are wrapped around the necklace upon opening the box.
This is not a gift from the newly-formed Centralized Authority. This is a tool to allow some form of interaction with humans from a safe distance, thereby deterring the urge to commit suicide. We implore you to wear this necklace at all times, inside or outside of your respective cabins. It can be charged within an hour on your charging plates nightly. An extra battery is provided in the box, and more batteries can be acquired through permission. Also, just like with your cells, if a malfunction occurs you should contact your development Statesman to have another issued to you. There is a surplus of both necklaces and cells in Bern for re-issue purposes.
This is just one of many objectives the Centralized Authority is attempting to further maintain humanity.
The births of new babies across the globe is almost non-existent due to the Ire of the mother once the child is exposed from the birth canal and ultimately terminates the child. A program is being designed to remotely inseminate participating women. Upon time for birth, the woman will be in a mechanized facility, sedated as she gives birth, and the child removed by machines controlled by distant humans. The details, such as birthing locations, candidacy, and semen collection, are currently being developed in Bern. More information will come later. This is our only chance of seeing any new humans under the Ire.
No drug created in the past fifteen months has shown any signs that curb the Ire, according to tests. However, a small few have delayed reaction time by minutes upon introduction of another person, and these drugs are being strongly focused on during testing of willing participants. We are confident that with time we will synthesize a drug to keep the Ire
away long enough to produce interaction.
We are producing several self-hospitalization instructionaires of more ailments in order to keep you alive and healthy longer. In addition, we are adding more pain medications in the weekly medicine batches you receive at your walks. Antibiotics, though in short supply, are also being increased in your batches. And while we do not condone it, we have been asked by countless people to provide cigarettes weekly. It has been discussed and we have decided that until the world supply of already-created cigarettes has been exhausted, which is assumed to be around ten years, we can provide cigarettes weekly by the carton to those who request them.
We are tallying the numbers of remaining children on earth, although the number is most unfortunately small. If you are a child under the age of fourteen, we know and are working to better give you child-specific instructions and learning lessons. We realize this has been incredibly difficult for you. Know that we are here.
To all our fellow opting survivors, we ask that you have patience in the years to come. Perhaps the Ire will be gone tomorrow. But the likelihood is that the Ire will be with us for a very long time, and it is everything we can do to now allow it to remove us from this great planet. Religion has all but been forgotten since last year, but understand we are here for your every need in one way or another.
Your Loving Senior Statesman,
Johan Urwyler, CA Appointed
Some letter. Nothing bad, as the bad stuff we already knew thanks to constant news feeds. Frankly, it was an exciting time. I instantly threw on my necklace, syncopated it, and noticed no heartbeats. Ultimately, this little device kept so much of us alive throughout the years. I truly doubt the CA knew how very effective it would end up being.
So it opened us up. Haydon and I immediately set up a meeting. The road in front of our cabins was distant enough that we could traverse it, but with the necklaces we could ensure we weren’t coming into contact with other people.
It was early afternoon. Haydon lived seven cabins east on the road. With nobody else on the road at the time, I set forth away from my cabin for the first time since my arrival there in December. And then there he was. Smaller in person than he was on the cell screen, but that was expected. We talked roughly fifty feet from each other void of some electronic device. This was the way it was always meant to be.
“Haydon?” I shouted.
“Wall? You fucker!”
That happened every day throughout October and the first part of November, rain, cold, and snow be damned. It was easily the highlight of both our days. We eventually grew to become accustomed to yelling at each other so much that when we did chat over the cell it would start out in shouts by accident. We certainly knew how to amuse each other.
The middle of November brought about a mild change. Upon our daily meeting, Haydon told me about Diane.
“She’s coming here!” he shouted. “Here, Wallace! To actually see me!”
“How did she get that kind of permission? And how is she getting here?”
“Special transport trains for just this purpose, Wall! The CA approved it! Goddamn it, I’m so happy!”
And he was. It was scheduled for the middle of December. His elation was not hidden starting the day he told me. Every word was Diane this, Diane that. I’m quite sure her absence had reignited his love for her, and that is one of the rarest and most unanticipated side effects of the Ire. I find it beautiful to this day.
“One week,” Haydon said over the cell as I lay in my bed. “She’ll be here one week from tomorrow, Wall. I know I can’t touch her, but I don’t care as long as I get to see her. Can you tell I’m excited?”
“Obviously,” I returned.
“It’s my only—“
He was interrupted by a violent vibration followed shortly by the noticeable sound of a nearby explosion. I heard it and felt it just the same. I leapt out of bed, head-to-toe nude, to the window to see an orange light growing over the horizon possibly a mile away.
“What the hell was that?” I said to Haydon over the cell.
“Your guess is as good as mine. And Wallace, put on some clothes.”
“Shut up.”
I donned only some tight shorts and a thin jacket and went to the front of the walk. Luckily, it was an abnormally warm night for November in Minnesota. It was there, at the front of the walk where I typically received my daily supplies, where I saw people actually running toward me from the direction of the blast. And then another blast struck, this one closer than the last. About thirty seconds later came another. The cabin about ten down from mine was the target and it was destroyed. The cabin eight down from mine was promptly detonated. This was unquestionably an attack on us for some unknown reason.
I had fallen to the ground from the motion of the blasts. My cell lost contact with Haydon. I tried to call but got no response. My necklace then began whistling. The people running at me were too far in the distance. It didn’t make sense. I turned and saw what I feared—someone was not only in my yard, but also in my cabin. They had to die. The Ire, gone well over a year, had returned. I needed to remove this person from existenc
e.
With the same unintelligible screams as I rang out at St. Cloud State, I ran at the person, a man who plainly looked red. I jumped on him, bit deep into his throat, shoved my fingers deep into his eye sockets, and began punching him. He was dead in the matter of twenty seconds. That’s when the redness escaped my vision and I saw a man larger than me, perfectly dead. Blood wateringly poured from the gaping hole in his neck. I felt good, for I had fulfilled my duty. But regret soon set in. I knew what I had done.
As I instantly stewed in my own sorrow, another blast took charge of the atmosphere, this one occurring at the cabin across the road from mine. The power of the explosion knocked me back a few feet, enough to bang my head against the front door of my own cabin. It badly stunned me. I was losing consciousness. But it looked like my cabin was next, so I didn’t care.
But I remained awake, fighting the impulse to fall asleep. In truth, I needed to keep going in order to find Haydon, to see if he was well. He was all that mattered to me anymore.
As I stood, pieces of debris, such as foam from furniture, wood siding from the house, and many papers, began to rain down on my property. A roof shingle attached to a small board landed atop my head, sending me back down. Then, before I could get a grasp on the situation around me, I felt it again. Not a blast, but the Ire.
A woman, very heavy and short, almost blindly leapt at me, trapping me briefly to the ground. She called out madly as she placed strike upon strike on my face with her fists. I returned her power by pushing her off and instantly kicking her in the head as she was sprawled on my front walk. There was no worse person in the world, so she needed to be extinguished. I would be pleasantly rewarded by society if I removed her, which is what I did. With one furious stomp to her head, powerful enough to send parts of her brain through her nose and mouth, my job was done. Relief! And as redness evaporated from my eyes, so did the relief, violently replaced by sadness.
The Populace Page 3