Then, an older woman shows up carrying a cake with six lit candles on it. It’s a chocolate cake. The little girl’s face lights up like a Christmas tree bulb.
“Ready everyone?” Mike shouts. “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday, Dear Miley, Happy Birthday to you . . .”
Of course, everyone cheers for the adorable little girl. Whoever is working the camera focuses in on her face, it’s so adorable, it just about tears my insides up watching her, knowing what I’m about to find out.
“Now, take a look at this home movie again,” Doctor Porter says, matter-of-factly.
The movie starts from the beginning. It’s the house party with the balloons and the kids, and even Tony in the background. In the foreground is Miley and she’s smiling that adorable smile. But this time, her father is no longer there. He’s entirely missing, cut out of the picture as it were entirely edited.
“Where’s Mike?” I say, a heavy sinking sensation overtaking my body. “Where’d he go?”
“Mike made a huge mistake,” Tyrel says, after a long beat. “He cheated on the Everest Primary Program. And because he cheated, he’s gone now.”
“Where?” I ask, my mouth going dry.
“You don’t understand, Tanya,” Tyrel goes on. “He doesn’t exist. He’s been wiped clean from humanity, just like his entire social media and online presence was wiped clean by a Bleach Bit application.”
I’m lying on my back, shaking my head.
“You don’t just wipe out an entire human being’s existence,” I say. “You can beat him, you can kill him, but you can’t do away with his memory . . . the fact that he once existed. That’s impossible.”
“Actually, Tanya,” Doctor Porter jumps in, “I’m afraid it is. You see, Mike had everything going for him when he joined the program, but then he got greedy and his entire family had to pay the price.”
“What the hell could he have done for you to erase him like that?” I beg.
Tyrel laughs.
“You mean what didn’t he do?” he says. “If you need to know, he went broke working the stock market in the days leading up to Everest’s takeover of it. He went into horrific debt and had no choice but to join Everest Primary in order to relieve him and his family of their obligations. But some weeks down the road, he figured he could make some serious cash on the side by dealing in black market alternative crypto currencies. Of course, he got found out and he was promptly terminated.”
I’m watching the home movie, listening to everyone sing Happy Birthday again. Everyone but Mike, that is.
“But how can you make him disappear like that?” I pose.
“That’s part of the punishment,” Doctor Porter explains. “You don’t just go away when you’re terminated. You disappear. And as for your family, they are no longer allowed to speak of you, or else face their own termination.” He raises his head, as if there’s a third person in the room. “Jacquie, perhaps you can explain a little.”
“Primary Termination is a process by which a member is expelled for reasons stated in the terms listed within the standard Primary Membership Program operating agreement,” Jacquie states. “Once signed by a willing participant, all terms of exclusivity must be adhered to or Primary Termination ensues. Once initiated, the former participant must volunteer to enroll in a re-education program, the location of which, I am not at liberty to discuss in this setting. Family members and/or friends and acquaintances who are also enrolled in Primary Membership must cease to discuss and/or acknowledge the terminated member in both private and public settings or else face termination of their own accounts. Does this answer your question satisfactorily?”
“You see, Tanya,” Tyrel says, “what you and Tony did was not only dangerous for the both of you as individuals, it also placed a lot of innocent people in danger.”
“The way the program was designed,” Doctor Porter interjects, “is for the actions of one person to affect those closest to him or her. That way, every primary member is better suited to following the rules of the program.” He smiles. “Ingenious, don’t you think?”
Me, pulling on the straps like they are about to come loose at any moment. And when they do, I'll be able to thrust my way past the two Everest Nazis and out the door to freedom. But I’m pretty sure at this point, freedom is a pipe dream. The commercial comes back online, the happy-go-lucky, stress free couple strolling together in Central Park or what I perceive as Central Park. Here’s the strange thing: I want to laugh. Because maybe . . . just maybe . . . if I had read the fine print on my Primary Membership agreement, I might be back in bed with Tony at his apartment in North Albany. But then, that’s as much a pipe dream as is my freedom. I know me, and no way is anyone going to force me to live like a slave, not an employer, not God, not the Everest Corporation.
“So, what happens now?” I say. “Do I get to eat anything? Drink something? Can I at least use the goddamn toilet?”
Doctor Porter, still smiling.
“Funny you should say that,” he says, glancing at his watch. “Because soon a team of specialists will arrive and take care of your dietary and nutritional needs. Also, your sanitary bodily function needs. And once that’s finished, we’ll be back to ask you a few simple questions.”
I’m biting down on my bottom lip so hard, I swear I’m about to cut right through it.
“Kiss my ass,” I spit.
“Please refrain from using vulgar language in the Primary Everest Re-education setting, Tanya,” Jacquie says. “I hope this serves as a satisfactory warning.”
“That goes for you to Big Sister Jacquie.”
The door opens, and two large people—one man and one woman—enter into the room. Tyrel takes a step back to give them room. Both of them are dressed in white, just like the support staff inside a nuthouse for the criminally insane. The woman on the left—my left—is pulling what looks like a mobile intravenous setup that contains two translucent bags filled with clear liquid. The man on the right, is carrying a bed pan and a plastic blue case with a red cross printed on it.
“We’ll take our leave now,” Doctor Porter says, going for the door.
“Oh, and Tanya,” Tyrel says, “make sure to cooperate with the medical staff. Their bedside manner isn’t nearly as gentle as Dr. Porter’s or mine.”
He gives me a wink and walks out. I would shout “Go to hell!” at him, if only the big white whale of woman wasn’t already sticking the blue vein on the back of my hand with a big fat needle.
Hooked up to an intravenous line. Brain spinning. Visions of two huge Moby Dicks inside the room. Or am I swimming in the ocean surrounded by white whales? Big White Man did something to me that made me empty my bladder and my bowels into a bedpan involuntarily. Big White Woman unstrapped me long enough to strip me of every stitch of clothing. I would love to have taken the opportunity to jump off the table and flee, nakedness or no nakedness.
But I can’t move.
Whatever the hell they are shooting me up with is making me entirely paralyzed on one hand, but somehow awake on the other. Just to prove it, when Big White Woman pokes me gently with a needle, I nearly hit the roof. The touch is that tender, the pain that electric.
“She’s ripe,” Big White Woman says with a smile. “She’s ready to go.”
That’s when the fear settles in. Real fear. I’m paralyzed, but my senses are so overly sensitive right now, what under normal circumstances might constitute minor pain or even just a slight physical annoyance, now feels like my skin is being ripped off my bones, bit by bit. Death by a thousand cuts. What the hell are these sick puppies up to?
When the door opens again, and Dr. Porter and Captain Tyrel re-enter, I know I’m about to find out. Find out the hard way.
Tyrell leans down, brings his lips to my ear.
“This is sooooo gonna hurt,” he says.
He stands.
Dr. Porter is no longer issuing that shiny happy smile. His face is all business. He makes his wa
y across the room, then comes back into view wheeling a mobile stainless-steel cart that looks like something a dentist might use. He’s still wearing his lab coat, only he places a protective plastic shield over his face, as though he’s guarding himself against anything that might fly into it.
I’m trying my hardest to pull and fight against the straps. But even something as simple as blinking seems to take a supreme effort. The television on the wall is still playing Kate’s commercial. I wish it would malfunction somehow. I wish this whole place would somehow catch fire and everyone inside it, including me, would burn up. Somehow, I don’t think my luck is that good.
“Tanya Teal,” Dr. Porter says in as clinical a tone as he can muster. A tone that would probably make Jacquie wet if she were in possession of real sex parts, “I’m going to ask you a series of yes or no questions that I would like you to answer truthfully, honestly, and thoughtfully. Blink if you understand me, please.”
I blink. What choice do I have? I’m lying here naked as the day I was born, strapped to a table inside a room in a building that might as well be on the other side of the world for all I know.
“Now then,” Porter goes on, “when you and Tony Smart decided to go to Gus’s Hotdog Shack this past Sunday afternoon after engaging in carnal relations, did you or did you not understand you were breaking your agreement with the Everest Primary Membership Program and that it would be punishable by Primary Termination? Blink if yes, or don’t blink if no.”
Naturally, I knew we were breaking the law. Everest law, that is. Tony and I even spoke about it and no doubt, Big Sister Jacquie picked up on it. I guess lying would be futile. But what the hell, why should I give in that easily just to please these two sickos?
“Your answer?” Porter presses.
I do not blink.
“Okay, then,” he exhales.
He glances at the stainless-steel tray, picks up a steel pick. Again, it’s an instrument a dentist would use. Reaching for my jaw with his free hand, he squeezes with his thumb and index finger, so I have no choice but to open my mouth.
“This is my favorite part,” a smiling Matt Tyrel says. “Bet you didn’t know Dr. Porter is a dentist, now did you Tanya? He knows where it hurts the most inside that pretty little mouth of yours.”
Heart pounding in my chest, I know what’s coming. Maybe lying was a very bad idea after all.
“Now let’s see here,” Dr. Porter says. He starts picking at my teeth, sending little spurts of pain up into my jaw and my head. “You could stand to have a cleaning soon. For certain, I’m spotting a cavity on rear molar number thirty. If you live through this ordeal and you are reinstated into the Primary Program, I can most definitely recommend a terrific Everest Corp. hygienist. Several dental offices are located within the city limits. An initial streaming face to face video can be performed right from the Everest video app.”
That’s when he strikes a nerve, quite literally. He jams the steel pick into the molar cavity. My body wants to jump off the table. But I can’t move. Electric pain shoots throughout my nervous system. I’m screaming. But no sound is coming from my mouth.
He pulls the pick back out.
“Gee, Tanya,” he says, “I fully realize how much that must hurt. The nerve is very, very tender. You don’t want to go through that kind of pain again. So, please answer the question truthfully. Did you and Tony Smart know you were breaking the terms of your Everest Primary Membership Program agreement when you decided to go to Gus’s Hotdog Shack?”
I blink. Blink several times.
“Okay, good,” he says, that pick still in his hand. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Next question. Did you or did you not have a discussion with Kate Simpson over rumors about the so-called termination of Primary Members who’ve faced said punishment in the past?”
How do I answer this? Is this something that’s going to get Kate in trouble, even if I do hate her guts right now? Okay, yes, I screwed up, and now I face the consequences. But does that mean Kate should also suffer? Sure she turned me in, but at least she’s going to bat for me, or so she says. Maybe by turning me in, it was her way of getting ahead of the situation. As much as it is going to pain me to do it, I don’t blink.
Dr. Porter turns, glances at Tyrel over his shoulder. Then, setting the steel pick back down onto the tray, he picks up a cordless dental drill. He thumbs the latex-covered trigger on drill and squinting his eyes, he brings his fingers to my face and forces my jaw open once more.
“That cavity is chuck full of decaying material,” he says. “Let’s get rid of it, shall we?”
He inserts the drill. I feel the solid sharp diamond tip entering into the cavity and I jump out of my skin. But I don’t really jump. Whatever drug their feeding me won’t allow it. It’s blocking all physical movement other than my ability to blink, breathe, hear, and pump blood throughout my circulatory system.
He turns the drill on.
The screaming drill excavates my molar and I am transported to a place where pain is more than excruciating. It’s a place where pain is so profound, so bone deep, and so overwhelming, that my soul exits my body, and I find myself looking down at my own body from above. He pulls the drill out and my soul drops back into my body. Once more, the electric pain fills my head. Searing hot nerve endings throbbing, jumping.
“Same question,” Dr. Porter goes on in his even, machine-like tone. “Did you discuss rumors of terminated members disappearing with Kate Simpson?”
I feel like I’m nodding my head while blinking, but I am only able to blink. Judging by my now blurry vision, I realize I am also weeping.
Porter exhales.
“Excellent, great, excellent,” he says. “We’re cooking with Wesson now. Next question. Is Gus Truman a member of the Everest Resistance? What will it be, Tanya? Yes or no?”
My God in heaven, how in the world can I expose poor old Gus and live with myself? What would Tony do if he knew the truth about Everest? He would resist. What would my father do if he knew the whole truth? He would resist. What would Scout do? Resist with every muscle fiber in her body. Even my mother would try to resist, bless her heart. What did my authors use to call it when you exposed someone with a pure soul like Gus? Ratting him out. If I blink, I am ratting out Gus. Oh good God in heaven, help me get through this.
Porter shakes his head in disgust.
“Make it really hurt this time, Doc,” Tyrel says. “Teach the bitch a lesson.”
Porter shoves the drill into my open molar.
He drills.
When I come to, the drill is not in my mouth. But instead, Porter is probing the gaping hole in my tooth with the steel pick. What was electric pain is now an inferno of pain that feels as though my lower and upper jaws are on fire and melting away along with the muscle tissue and skin that covers it. My tears are flowing down my face and, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say I am about to die.
Gazing at Tyrel I can’t help but make out his beaming grin. The way he’s tightly crossing his arms over his chest tells me he’s so excited and happy, he can hardly control himself. Porter removes the steel pick and stands. He walks to the opposite side of the room. I can hear him going through some drawers.
“Hell you doing, Doc?” Tyrel says.
“Trying to prove a point,” he says.
“We’re not done,” the Everest cop says. “We’re just getting started with her.”
“Listen, Captain,” Porter says, “if not for Tanya’s relationship with Ms. Simpson along with Simpson’s testimony on her best friend’s behalf, Tanya would already be on her way to total Termination and the upstate fulfillment center. I need to prove to her that if she makes a real attempt at re-education, she can once more be reinstated as a Primary Member.”
“You’re a pussy, Doc.”
“You are a crude and rude man, Captain.”
Seating himself once more, Porter forces my mouth open again. I honestly don’t think I can take any more of this . . . this torture. But t
hat’s when something wonderful happens. Porter reaches into my mouth with the tips of both his thumb and index finger. He’s holding something in between them. It’s a little ball of clay-like material about the size of a ball bearing. He shoves the ball into the hole in my molar and what had been seething, unbearable pain is now completely painless.
Removing his fingers, he takes hold of a tool that looks like a flashlight but that contains an ultraviolet bulb. He shines the ultraviolet light into my open mouth.
“I’ve just filled your tooth with a fast-acting mercury-based resin filling. The tooth is now as good as the day the God of earth and Everest created it.”
“Like I said,” Tyrel says, rolling his eyes in their sockets. “Pussy.”
My tears suddenly dry up. For the first time since these creeps entered into the room, I feel a small ray of hope.
“Just to prove to you that we mean it when we say we wish to re-educate you, not terminate you, I am willing to ease your pain in exchange for the truth. All you have to do is tell me if Gus Truman is a part of the Everest Resistance.” Porter forces a smile, while setting the ultraviolet light device back onto the dental tray. “Just tell me yes or no.”
At first, I don’t blink. He presses his lips together and takes hold of the drill again like he’s got no problem with drilling the filling back out. I blink. He smiles again.
“Excellent,” he says. “We’re making great progress.”
For long beat or two, he just sits there staring at me. My eyes shift once more to the Everest commercial being broadcast endlessly on the big flat screen. There’s the happy couple in the park, and then there’s a little boy seated in the dentist’s chair, and then a happy old woman being tended to by a medical doctor in brightly lit office. A young mother is grocery shopping with her little kids, and a family is viewing church services on a Sunday via a large high-def monitor broadcasting Everest live video. A big black Army tank, like the one that almost killed Tony and me, is being rolled out of a factory while a brand-new fighter jet screams overhead. Finally, the President of the United States is sharing a moment with John D. Rutherford, the CEO of Everest Corp., in the White House Rose Garden on a sunny brilliant summer’s day. The tall, white-haired, fifty-something Everest founder shifting himself to the podium where he is to deliver what will become a famous speech about America’s new strategic and financial alliance with the Everest Corporation. It was the day the CEO became more powerful than the President, and therefore, the most powerful man on earth. He was already the richest.
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