by Chaim, Moran
The guards passed before me.
“Is everything ok?” I asked the last one of the line.
“Just routine maintenance.”
“What maintenance?”
“Sorry,” he said, walking faster to avoid me.
“Outside?”
“Excuse me kid I have to…” and he ran off with the rest of them.
Kid? I could be his grand-grand granddad. I kept following the guards until they took a turn into the inner circle of the city. They went up the dark staircase into another room. Their guns’ rattle echoed in the narrow corridors. Then they started dressing up in these weird camouflage suits made from thin metal fibers. First they put on the pants, than the vests, then the sleeves and then the head pieces. They got dressed up pretty fast, and then stepped on a platform that lifted up into the surface. The hatch dilated like a camera’s shutter. The light from above was so bright that my eyes shut automatically until they readjusted to the light. When the platform elevator pushed them up it looked like an alien spaceship was abducting them. The metal grinding sound was unpleasant and when it was over I felt a relief. I searched around and quickly found another suit that was left hanging. Was it damaged? Did they not have enough guards to do maintenance? I had to try it on because it was my opportunity to see the outside world, so I dressed up the way they did. The thin metal fibers were so spiky that I had to stop and readjust it every few seconds. It felt like little thorns pierced my skin. How did they do it so quickly? When I finished dressing up, I realized walking in that thing wasn’t pleasant either. I made sure no one was coming near the room and went next to the platform, yet nothing moved. A voice from an intercom on the wall barked at me.
“Where have you been? Everyone’s already out,” she said with judgmental tone.
“Bathroom stop,” I said quickly.
“Where’s your gun?”
Shit, my gun. What was I thinking? That they will just let me out?
“Someone else took it for me.”
“Scan your eyes please.”
A red light under the intercom speaker flashed and I hesitated.
“You know what? I think I still don’t feel well. Stomach issues.”
I turned away and started to remove the suit’s parts. By the time I finished and ready to leave, two other guards were already there to intercept me. They weren’t holding any guns, just unfriendly bats.
“Hi guys,” I said while raising my hands in the air like I was about to be arrested, wondering whether I could take them in a fight. Probably not, I hadn’t fully recovered yet, but in a few weeks, no problem. One of them took out a pair of handcuffs.
“You must come with us.”
“Ok,” I said and extended my wrists. I shouldn’t cause more trouble on my first day. Or was it the second day? It’s not like I actually did something wrong, I was just touring the city and stumbled upon this room.
Before one of the guards cuffed me there was another brief power outage, but before I could escape in the dark, a red light started flashing above our heads. A quiet siren sounded as the platform was lowered, letting the light inside. One guard was holding two wounded guards who were moaning in pain. Blood was dripping off the platform. I could hear gunshots echoing from the outside. The two guards that came for me rushed to take a stretcher off the wall. It wasn’t the first time I saw gun wounds.
“What happened?”
“Stand aside kid!” The stretcher holders shouted.
“Fucking Purists!” said one of the wounded guards. The other one was already unconscious, and they rushed him out of the room.
The wounded guard looked at me like I was an alien and I immediately jumped in and pulled him off the platform. The platform shot up and the room became dark again. I pulled apart the suit around his wound, cutting my hands and mixing my blood with his. He was holding his pain, releasing a little bit of it with every breath. He was in great danger if the bullet hit a main artery. I tried to tear some fabric off my overalls but I was too weak so I just put pressure on his wound with my both arms.
“Don’t leave me!” He commanded. Lucky for him, I knew the procedures. A gunshot in the future was still a gunshot. And a gunshot to the thigh can be lethal. I had a chance to do something good, and I liked it.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” I told him, but I could see he was lost in the pain. I believed my own words though; if they could resurrect people they could treat gun wounds.
A few seconds later the doctors came and took him away on a stretcher. I noticed their whole crew was looking at me with surprise, so I looked back with fiery eyes: Yup, it’s me again. Same guy who kicked your ass and escaped yesterday. And I’m here to stay.
I was detained in that room for another half an hour before the guards started coming back from above, all dirty from desert dust and sweat. A cleaning crew dressed in green overalls also came by to wash the muddy blood off. It was then that they finally sent someone to talk to me. She was a slim elegant woman, wearing white overalls with silver threads woven into it. Her hair was short and neat and her features were strong but welcoming.
“You must be Roy,” she said, extending her arm for a shake, which I apprehensively returned.
“I’m president Padma, and I wanted to meet you in person but I didn’t think it would be this way.”
She didn’t sound welcoming at all.
“I wanted to thank you for saving a man’s life but you did try to dress up as a guard and go out.”
“I did what I had to do.”
She didn't seem to care.
“I consider you a child of mine. I try to keep all my children safe. I get disappointed when they disobey the rules, and I get angry when someone puts others at risk.”
“I couldn’t stay inside, I had to see—”
“—I realize adapting to this place will be hard for you, but you could’ve gotten yourself killed or kidnapped.”
“By whom?”
She paused and studied my face. I studied hers and could feel my old skills come back, though sluggishly.
“I must continue the investigation of this.”
I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to ask her permission to go out anyway, and I also wanted to know things about this place and about whoever shot the guards. Yet timing matters.
“I won't fail you again.”
She smiled like she didn’t buy my honesty.
“You need to realize something. You have your old habits and traits still alive in you. But it doesn’t work like that here. If you do anything that might put my children at risk one more time I'll have you assimilated.”
If that wasn’t a threat I don’t know what is.
“Get your skills tested tomorrow; we’ll find you something productive to do. Or at least acceptable,” she added, and then left the room before I could reply.
When Isaac came back to our room that night I was afraid he’d start lecturing and preaching, but he said nothing, like he didn’t even care. Maybe nothing could surprise this old man. Or maybe he was just disappointed in me.
“Tell me about the Purists,” I said, trying to break the silence.
“I’m tired. Do you still have your balls attached?” He asked.
So he knew about what happened.
“Tell me about the Purists. I was right there when they shot those guards.”
“It’s too long.”
“You told me you’re a storyteller but you sure didn’t tell me the whole story about this place. Tell me the truth: the power outage didn’t happen out of nowhere, did it?”
This statement got on Isaac’s nerves. He sat down on his bed and stroked his knees like he was trying to avoid something that’s uncomfortable.
“What do you want to know?” He asked.
“Everything.”
“The Purists began in my time. The world’s temperatures rose and hunger started to spread because it was harder and harder to farm crops. Climate change was the faceless enemy that turned every
one against each other. Bigger groups looted from smaller groups. So what the Purists first did was teach people how to farm in those extreme conditions. And people started to get dependent on them.”
Isaac paused, clearly appraising his fatigue and frustration. But I could tell he really wanted to convey this.
“The Purists gave people seeds and also arranged the bartering between families and groups. They controlled the market place and the knowledge in a world of growing chaos and looting. People knew that the Purists would take care of them and keep them safe while all they needed to do was let them handle the exchange between different farms while taking a commission. It all worked well for awhile because they were too small for anyone to supervise, and especially because the world governments and police were crumbling. There was too much going on. No one cared about a bunch of farmers talking about how technology corrupted mankind and how any development is a sin against humanity.”
I started feeling heavier in my bed. I was involved in something even bigger than I thought.
Isaac sighed. I could tell he knew he had to tell it all as it was, no more half truths.
“The world split into two: the few who had and the many who hadn't. The poor were the ones who fought each other like savanna animals. When it became impossible for the Purists to farm, they had to find another way to provide for the people who were depending on them. So they used the sin card and started to raid technological institutes in the name of Purity. When they could steal green technology they claimed it was only for survival means, and that once the atmosphere changed again they’d dispose of it. Every other technology was destroyed and with it the people responsible. Their food was of course looted.”
“So they started killing scientists?” I asked.
“Scientists, technicians and associated investors and businessmen.”
“And no one stopped them?”
“Who? By the time they started to cause trouble there was no real governing force to deal with them.”
“And you still wanted to go under the freeze knowing that they’d try to destroy this place?”
“It was the only safe place to be. They hadn’t even finished building it but I knew there was no other place.”
He paused for a moment.
“It’s not that I was defrosted here by accident. I care about this place. It saved my wife and me. I won’t just assimilate without knowing that I can trust who I leave behind.”
He went inside his bed and closed the lid. I felt my eyes go heavier and heavier. The burden of knowing too much wasn’t as heavy as my tired body.
I entered the simulation and had to relax. I wanted a beer. I immediately had a perfect pint of amber beer in my hand, which I didn’t even have to specify. Cold and refreshing. I thought about the simulation shooting bug juice or recycled pee in my mouth. I resisted the urge to vomit and got used to blocking the idea. After I chugged the beer, I wondered where to put the glass, but it just disappeared. Then I wanted to get some air. I looked at my feet and saw them rise above the ground inch by inch. I was hovering slowly, just like I did with Isaac. Now I was the one controlling it. I looked to my left and hovered left. I looked to my right and hovered even faster. I looked up and launched myself 10 feet in the air. It was so cool. I could actually feel the wind in my face. Then I took off again. I flew up as fast as I could through the clouds, diving into and circling them, creating new shapes with every pass. I wanted to scream out of joy. What if somebody was listening or monitoring my brain? I screamed anyway. I felt such a relief. I didn't care if I died or not. I could fly. I could shoot a rainbow out of my belly and ride on a flying unicorn if I wanted. Shit. It actually happened. I forgot that it wasn't just a metaphor in my head. I found myself riding unicorn with a rainbow coming out of me. I stopped that idea immediately because I didn't want someone to see it.
I wanted to go on the ground somewhere. It's easier to control the situation with a sense of gravity. I looked down and saw how the sea was far away. So I thought What if I imagine myself there without flying’. After a beat, I was there. It was like turning your head sideways really fast. Your eyes follow slightly slower and suddenly you find yourself standing on a beach. The weather changed a bit; it felt warmer. The waves crashed on the shore. Seagulls flew over my head. I could see some people from afar but they felt like part of the setting. So I sat down on the beach and imagined myself in a bathing suit. There I was, watching the waves on my own private beach. It was so peaceful, but I had one thing missing so I changed the color of the sun to be redder, like the sunset. I took a deep breath. Waves are the kind of things you could look at for hours. Just hearing the soothing sounds of them recede after they lost their energy is meditative.
Fire-gazing is the same. I used to love having campfires outside with my friends. What happened to my friends? I started to remember my last day before dying. I was on a beach like this one, with my two friends. We were sitting on a blanket drinking cheap beer and venting about the army until the beach tennis ball hit me. Beach tennis is a common Israeli activity and a very boring one if you ask me. Instead of trying to score point against each other, you're supposed to bounce the ball to each other and keep it from dropping. Pointless. I turned in its direction and saw a beautiful blond girl running towards me with a smile.
“Sorry, did I hit you hard?” She was tanned and sweating. She had colorful Indian beads tied to her hair.
“No, I'm ok.”
I threw the ball to her and she bounced it with the racket and turned away.
“Idiot, you should've asked for her number in return for the ball.”
I turned toward my friend Noam, who was looking at me disappointed.
“She should have given you her number in return for YOUR balls,” said Dan.
Noam and Dan were my best high school friends. I knew them for four years, after I had moved to the new school. Now we barely saw one another because we each had different weekends off from the army. Sometimes you stayed for two or three weeks straight and your parents came to visit. Sometimes they were not allowed. Sometimes you were there a whole month until another unit came to replace you.
“Screw it,” I said. “I don't have time for a girlfriend anyway.”
Was it me saying that? Was that what I said on that actual day? I couldn't remember but I let the simulation lead me. It must have dug into my memories and was showing me how I remembered it.
“You’re such a pussy, always with those excuses,” said Dan.
“Dude, did you even get laid since you broke up with Hadar?” added Noam.
Hadar, she was my ex. I didn't want to think about her at that moment, there was too much anger and regret involved in that process. I just wanted to relax on the beach.
There was a moment of silence. We all sipped on the beer and looked at the waves. We also looked at the blonde girl. Then Noam said something. I can't tell if he really did or if he was just saying that in my head, but it felt like a memory.
“If I die I just want you to know you were my best friends.”
“Shut up, you're not going to die,” I interrupted.
“Let me finish,” he stressed. “If I die, I want happy music at my funeral. Like reggae or something. I don't care if it's against the army rules. You're going to play reggae and people are going to dance.”
Dan and I looked at each other.
“I'm serious; you have to promise me that. And if a news crew comes to interview my parents after the funeral, I want you to play Reggae there too. I don't want those terrorists seeing my mom crying on TV.”
“If you die, people are allowed to be sad,” said Dan.
“Not at my funeral, I'm sick of sad funerals of dead soldiers. Everybody is crying like it was a big surprise that soldiers die in this country. They prepare us from kindergarten to acknowledge that death is possible. So I don't want hypocrisy at my funeral. It was my life and it ended so I want you to celebrate my life. I don't want the terrorists to see you cry and feel that
they have won.”
I might have said something back to him on that day but suddenly it felt like he had a good point.
“And one more thing,” he added.
“What else, you freak?” said Dan.
“I want you to fly to Amsterdam together and smoke a giant ass joint in my memory.”
“Let's just say that we’ll be here after we're finished with the army, ok?” I said. But I felt like I couldn’t talk anymore. My eyes started to get wet and I didn't want them to see it. So I stood up and let the wind dry my eyes. I will never fly to Amsterdam with them. Not in reality at least.
“Sit down, you're blocking the sun,” said Noam.
“I'm going to pee,” I said.
“Go pee in the water.”
“I don't feel like it, do you want another beer?”
“Sure,” they both said.
I took my wallet and headed to the bathroom. It smelled as if it hadn’t been cleaned for days. I should have peed in the water. It’s filled with other people's pee anyway. It's like a common fact that you're allowed to pee in the sea because the salt disinfects your pee, or maybe because pee is salty anyway.
Then I realized I can't pee in the simulation and that I'll have to change my memory and go straight for the beer. I remember being pretty drunk that day and it felt similar in the simulation, that tipsiness. I bought three more beers. Even in the simulation's beach kiosk they ripped me off. When I got back Noam and Dan looked worried. I could see them arguing and packing our stuff.
“What happened? I asked.
“They just kidnapped two more soldiers in Lebanon,” Dan said.
“First Gilad Shalit and now these two; we're going to war.”
“Stop playing with me,” I replied. Little did I know, back then.
“Dude, you had like three calls since you left.”
I took out my phone. I had three missed calls and a text message. Before I could open it, the phone rang again. It was my commander.
In the simulation, I jumped forward in time to when I drove to the Wiseman Institute where my father used to work. He was a scientist researching genome stuff that I didn't understand. So If I had anything to do with cryogenic freezing it must have been his idea. I called my mom, who was an officer in the nearby air force base.