The Birth of Dystopia

by A. Q. Moser

  Running water whooshed in the sink. Dishes and glasses clattered in the background.

  “Are you cleaning by hand?” I asked, wondering why Marie was not using the dishwasher.

  “It’s only a few dishes.” Marie placed the pot and frying pan into the sink. “I’m going to put the leftovers in the fridge and I cut up some watermelon pieces for later.”

  Yep, it was a nice treat to have Marie over. I certainly would not have had the energy to cook and clean. Refocusing on the television, I changed the channel passing over various sporting networks. They were showcasing bloopers and highlights of yesterday’s games.

  “When are you going to get your three-D TV fixed?” Marie realized that the television was set in classical two-dimensional mode.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Yeah, I got to call some repair guy. I tried to fix it myself but I can’t seem to figure out what the problem is with the layering effect for the three-dimensional images.”

  “Three-dimensional is better for your eyes," Marie cited some old wives’ tale like I was going to blind from watching television because it was missing some crucial dimension output.

  “That's probably not true. What about people who read books?" I defended back.

  “I guess so. I heard it from somewhere,” Marie submitted and returned to cleaning the kitchenette.

  All lazy and stuff, I left the television on the music channel hoping to be lulled to sleep. All the pressures drifted away as I listened on in a semiconscious state. Video after video allowed me to forget my painful thoughts.

  —mega band Tank ‘n’ Wind return to their hometown tomorrow to hold a highly-anticipated concert. To celebrate this we’re playing back-to-back music videos of Where are you going and their recent video Dolphins know the way—

  The titles of the videos greatly interested me. I rose up onto my elbows. “Hey Marie, did I tell you that the lead singer went to my high school?” My comment came as a result of a proud habit that I took to add a level of prestige to my old high school.

  “Yeah, I know.” Marie heard this account numerous times. “And I also know that he’s three years younger than you.”

  Billy Dangal, or better known by his rock star name Coax, appeared in the music video Where are you going. He was a lost teenager on an escapade of shenanigans and bantering against any authority figure that stood in the way. It was one of his first music videos and opened the door to being recognized worldwide. I have seen this music video a million times and it had a lot of spunk despite its low budget.

  Opening from a dark cloud, the sequence of the second music video flowed over a water scene in a dreamy style. Fading inwards, the images perspired to the inside of a brightly lit steamboat with a soft piano and guitar medley and no lyrics.

  Until now, I never knew there was a music video for the song Dolphins know the way. I have heard the song on the radio countless times.

  The luxurious banquet hall was decorated in exquisite crystal chandeliers and fancy gold linings on the walls and shiny hardwood floors. Each round table hosted a set of elaborate china dishware prepared for a ten-course meal on top of a gold-trim tablecloth. At the centre of the dining area was an open dance floor set before a disc jockey booth.

  As the camera continued to sweep across the luxurious hall, there was this empty feeling. The entire area was vacant. Not a single person was present to enjoy the ambiance. The music drifted to an eerie organ pitch. The camera panned outwards from one of the circular portholes of the old-fashioned steamboat and then heading skywards. A wide-angle shot showed a silver steamboat with an oversized paddlewheel at one end while the other end stretched out to infinity.

  Narrowing back down to the steamboat, a functional chimney stack spewed out misty steam. The condensed acid water collected on the outside of the blood red chimney stack causing the paint to erode away.

  A pair of bottlenose dolphins was frolicking in the clear water. The more acid water released, the darker the water turned. Like a mudslide wash of black soot was spilling in, the inky water depleted any existing life it may have had. The acidic water was also eating away at the hull of the steamboat. It was a cycle of destruction emanating from a single polluting source of the chimney stack.

  Retreating backwards, the camera view showed the steamboat to be docked to the wharf. Massive steel chains wrapped around thick harbour posts locked the vessel in place in case the steamboat somehow tried to escape.

  “That’s weird!” I exclaimed at the awkwardness of the music video. The symbolic nature of the video had the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  Concentrating on the images on the television, I used the remote control and raised the volume. The volume of the music increased to a virtual deafening pitch and sinking me deeper into the video.

  “Why so loud?” Marie shouted from the kitchenette.

  Having my full attention, I could not bother with outside distractions like I was watching a crucial sports play that could swing in either direction.

  Feeling ignored, Marie approached the television. “Volume to five,” she robotically ordered, in an effort to voice override the remote control. Since the volume was too loud to catch her commands, she lowered the volume from the controls on the television.

  “Don’t block the video,” I screamed horrified at the possibility of missing any image from the music video.

  “Sorry.” Marie returned to the kitchenette to finish cleaning up.

  I fell off the couch and on to my knees. I crawled closer to the television to be nearer to the music video.

  “Longing for a life of stability,” television Billy sang the lyrics of the song for Dolphins know the way.

  The camera filmed Billy marching along a narrow beach boardwalk constructed from wooden planks that ran parallel to the steamboat. The lead singer had his hands in his pants pockets and was shivering in his march. There was some notion that the lifeless water was drawing in the heat from the surrounding air.

  Emerald green lampposts lit the beach boardwalk. The lampposts were spaced out every five metres apart and were curved to face the waterfront. The old-styled beacons held a lit candle and seemed poised for illuminating the path alongside the lifeless water.

  Cloudy and ominous in nature, the music video was looking more like some depressing future for humanity. The lightning in the background flashed to the thumping of the drums. The waves drifted to the sounds of the guitar. Billy marched to beat of his song.

  The beach boardwalk was empty except for the three band mates sheltered under the light of one of the lampposts. In his melodramatic stroll, Billy approached the group. The band mates opened their circle to let Billy walk in. United again, the members of the band Tank ‘n’ Wind accompanied Billy in song.

  As the world around them disintegrated, the group continued to sing under the light of the lamppost. The camera zoomed towards the brilliance of the light. The warm radiating glow transformed into the glowing face of Billy. He continued to sing to the thunderous symphony of the music.

  Nothing left—Leaves carried by the wind—Deadwood following the river—Where do you think you’re going—Do you not know the way. Deep words sung by an emotional lead singer to close the song.

  Dreadful déjà vu. The imagery was so real to me. Almost to a tee, this music video re-enacted my first horrifying nightmare from twenty years ago. How was this possible? Was this a joke? Did I really see this on the television? I was so confused. My heavy heart sunk down to the pits of my abdomen. Something was wrong—wrong in the sense that the video delivered a painful feeling. I could feel my entire body tensing up. I was all sweaty too.

  “What’s wrong?” an alarmed Marie requested. She cupped my right shoulder in concern.

  “This can’t be happening,” I uttered as my eyes stood guard over the television. “How could this be?”

  “Joel, what’s wrong?” Marie questioned, apprehensive by how I was reacting.

  How could I make sense of something I did not under
stand myself? I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

  “Joel, you’re scaring me. I can see it in your face. Please talk to me,” Marie pleaded in an effort to narrow down my facial expressions into a verbose explanation.

  “I don’t know what to say.” I trembled in my feeble state.

  Marie dropped to her knees to hug me. “You’re all sweaty. What did you just see on the TV?”

  I furrowed my eyes in an effort to regain my composure. How could Marie understand?

  Marie held my face in her hands. “Please talk to me.”

  “Video,” I blurted without a clear thought to the word. I pointed and Marie followed my finger to the television.

  “I know that’s a music video but what about it? Why does it bother you so much?” Marie stared at me as if I were a ghost.

  “That video … was a … nightmare.” Even though I stumbled, I was making progress by even mentioning the word nightmare. Feelings of fear mixed with the hint of relief tumbled within me, circulating pain throughout my body like a malignant cancer would.

  Marie rubbed her face with her hands in desperation. “Joel, you’re losing me.”

  “That music video matched a nightmare I had a long time ago but … I … I can’t explain it.” I shut my eyelids so not to see Marie’s reaction.

  “Are you saying he stole your nightmare?” Marie concluded with a perplexing look on her face like an infant trying to understand why crossing the road was dangerous.

  I shook my head in disagreement. “I don’t know. All I know is that video … I had a nightmare that was almost like that video.” I somewhat stuttered my last few words, peeking through my eyelids.

  “Let me get this straight. You dreamt this video when you were eight years old?” Marie braced my hands within hers as if she were trying to comfort a hysterical woman with the everything-is-okay dictum.

  So I nodded though I probably would have nodded to anything Marie said at this point after all I was more confused than she was. I looked Marie in the eyes and then covered mine from shame. Somehow, it felt like this was my all fault. I was to blame for the confusion, the nightmares, and her pity. I was damaged without knowing how.

  “Don’t be down on yourself.” Marie picked up fast. “Did your dream have Billy in it too?”

  “No.” I needed to explain more. “The nightmare had a silver steamboat and a paddlewheel exactly like in the video. The steamboat also had a single chimney stack but the chimney stack was red-white-red not all red like in the video. The steamboat was floating in black water but was docked. Next to it was a beach boardwalk made of wooden planks and lit by candles in these old lampposts. The lampposts were curved not to the waterfront but curved over a group five strangers with a sixth as the light for the strangers. And there were no dolphins in the nightmare.”

  “It’s truly amazing to hear your recollection of a dream from twenty years ago. I can’t even remember my dreams from last night let alone from when I was a little girl,” Marie surmised.

  Letting out a deep sigh, I had no comment to Marie’s words. I was too deep in remorse for a life driven by pain from nightmares all stemming from my twisted mind. And yet Billy portrayed my first nightmare openly in a music video. Did we share a common nightmare or was it a bizarre coincidence?

  “I’m glad you opened up to me,” Marie acknowledged, sincere to my pain. “Would you feel better if we send an e-mail to Billy? Maybe try sending it first to his fan club and hopefully it gets forwarded to him?”

  Of course, this was a good idea and so I nodded it. I was receptive to any suggestion. Anything was better than nothing. I was tired of these bombarding pangs of guilt.

  “Great.” Marie hugged me.

  Seeing me to the couch, Marie retrieved the computer keyboard to the television and began to do an Internet search for Billy Coax Dangal’s fan club.

  Before I could digest Marie’s idea, I had another thought. “We could go directly to Billy and ask him about the video.”

  “How are we going to do that and how much is this going to cost?” Marie hesitated, the glow in her eyes diminished as if I was leading her down some rough intercity alleyway.

  5

  “We can go see Billy at his concert. The TV was playing videos of Bill’s songs because the band was holding a concert in Toronto tomorrow. We get backstage passes to the concert and we confront Billy about the similarities between his music video and my nightmare.” I was excited. “This is so perfect.”

  The idea bounced off Marie like she was made of rubber. I could feel her wanting to stop me from wasting my money on a frivolous endeavour. Who cared about the high cost of concert tickets and back stage passes? Action was more important than money. An opportunity to meet with Billy and talk to him was worth any price. This was my mission, to get answers.

  “I know what you’re thinking. I have the money for this. You bought groceries and made dinner tonight so I’ll pay for the concert. Don’t worry,” I tried my hands at bargaining.

  Sitting on the coach together, there were two different levels of emotion to the concert idea. Marie had come to my apartment to try to comfort me and make me happy. But if happiness and comfort came at a cost, like jumping off a bridge, was it truly worth it?

  “Let’s forgo the cost for now. More importantly, what happens if we can’t get tickets to the concert?” Marie tried to bring me back to reality.

  “Then I’ll buy them off scalpers.” It was no sweat for me. “Trust me.”

  Marie’s eyebrows perked up and then returned to their original place. “I trust you but—” She paused unsure what else to say.

  Offering me the keyboard to access the Internet, Marie allowed me to do what I believed I needed to do. Ticket locator Tank Wind concert—I typed in the search engine. A list of Tank ‘n’ Wind concert dates filled the Webpage.

  “Wow, these guys are busy.” I read in bewilderment. There was a Toronto concert tomorrow night. My heart jumped in anticipation.

  “Oh,” Marie exasperated. “It’s sold out. Wait. There’s a concert Friday night in Buffalo.”

  “Friday? Two days from now is too far. I’ll get the tickets from a scalper.” I could not wait another day for this matter. Scalpers were the only way to do it.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Marie implored. “We could make a trip to Buffalo. Maybe make it a weekend thing.”

  “Trust me, its fine with me.” Marie’s idea was very plausible but I was set in my way. I was willing to pay a hefty price to meet Billy. In some weird sense, her attempt to persuade me only spurred me on. I was almost driven under the principle of the matter.

  “Here we go.” I pointed to the screen. “$1700 for one concert ticket and back stage pass. And four tickets and passes are available.”

  Not even registering the exorbitant price, I found what I needed to find. Facing Marie, I forced a smile. I would not budge no matter what she said. I held my chin high forcing a smile.

  “Are you sure about this?” Marie worried, studying all the zeroes after the seven.

  “Don’t worry about it.” If I were in a poker game, I was all-in with a pair of fives. It was a big risk on my part.

  “You can’t trust these people,” Marie rationalized the obvious.

  I returned to face the screen, clicked on the purchasing section on the website lastminutescalpers.com. “Two tickets with backstage passes coming up,” I declared with two fingers held high.

  Concert: Tank ‘n’ Wind - Toronto

  Date: Thursday, June 6

  Number of tickets: 2

  Number of back stage passes: 2

  Contact name: Joel D. Taw

  Verification/contact #: T5150-2001-EMM20-13

  PIN: ****

  Email: joeldtaw@migrationmail.to.com

  Making my choices in the form, I was setting myself on a voyage to decipher my nightmares. It was this easy. Fearless I clicked on the Accept button and I was done.

  An icon flashed on the screen indicating an
email had arrived in my Inbox. Subject: Tickets for Tank ‘n’ Wind Approved For June 6.

  Subject: Tickets for Tank ‘n’ Wind Approved For June 6

  Thank you Joel D. Taw. Your two tickets and two backstage passes are reserved at the grounds ticket tent at the Music Grounds. The total cost of the purchase including taxes is $3400.00 ($2982.46 w/t). Confirmation number: #1123211-112358-132538B. Please show up at least half an hour before the main event with ID. See you there.

  “Done,” I proclaimed, proud for accomplishing something I have never done before.

  “I guess we’re going tomorrow,” Marie said with the enthusiasm of a three-toed sloth.

  New to buying tickets and back stage passes online, I felt like I conquered some Internet monster. There was a sense of jubilation. I jotted down the confirmation number and stuffed it in my wallet.

  With all the talk about Billy’s concert, I had this strong drive to play some Tank ‘n’ Wind music. “I got some music stored on my hard drive.” I set the files to play out on repeat mode.

  Crystal clear sounds of Billy’s dramatic voice accompanied by instruments of his band mates filled my apartment. Marie loosened up as the melody played on. I headed for the washroom. A sudden pressure in my bladder replaced all the excitement from the concert.

  Right before my eyes, the washroom mirror held a different perspective of my self-worth. At twenty-eight years old, I had deep circles under my eyes and little to show for in life other than my insecurities. I was taking a big risk going to this rock concert; it was way outside of my comfort zone. I closed my eyelids and wished I had not bought the tickets. My hands trembled. I was so tired of being scared. I felt so alone.

  One thing I was certain of, I really had to go. I moved to the toilet with my doubts. If life got any worse, I could just run away and live somewhere in the mountains. I could be a hermit surviving and adapting to the rugged terrain.

  Suddenly, the sounds of music stopped. Marie must have turned it off. I washed my hands and returned to the living room.