The Birth of Dystopia

by A. Q. Moser

  “Absolutely incredible!” Wolfgang exasperated, wiping his hands on his knees. “You all know exactly what I dreamt of way back when I was a child.”

  “I can’t believe it myself.” May rubbed her eyes with her palms. “What do they mean?”

  “No idea,” Wolfgang said.

  I drew a blank too.

  Glazed look and all, Billy lapsed mentally, just stared mindlessly at the centre of the billiard table. He was in one of his trances again, unperturbed by any stimuli. His mansion could be on fire with him inside and he would not budge nor react. Was he thinking or just spaced out from mental overload?

  “Are we related somehow?” I posed, expecting an immediate response.

  Only silence sounded louder. Everybody concentrated on the billiard table in the centre of the room in unison. I wanted to break the silence but I had no idea how too. Should I bring up my experience with not sleeping properly?

  “If you believe this is not a cosmic event, could it be the water we drink? Water sabotaged?” May suggested, diving into conspiracy theories.

  Wolfgang reacted by making a funny face towards May’s idea. “Nonsense. This is like those conspiracy lunatics proclaiming that there was a plot to spread disease as air particulates through contaminated facial tissues,” he recounted harshly. “These theories don’t hold up and are so easy to dismiss without concrete proof.”

  “It was just a thought.” May sarcastically excused herself for trying and fixed her eyeglasses.

  Wolfgang looked annoyed at May. “Are those eyeglasses for real?” he probed.

  May’s right shoulder slid inwards as if she was not willing to answer any questions.

  “Let me see,” Wolfgang demanded, wanting to satisfy his curiosity.

  May shook her head in embarrassment. Wolfgang stretched out and reached out for the glasses with his hand wanting to test them out for himself. I sat back in my seat trying not to get involved in this squabble.

  “No,” May renounced, dodging Wolfgang’s prying hand.

  “I thought so.” Wolfgang appeased himself. “You girls just wear them for fashion.” A stereotype for girls as fashionmongers, he felt comfortable expressing.

  “So!” May flagrantly contended with Wolfgang abruptness. “So what?”

  “This eyesight problem has been fixed with laser therapy a long time ago. What’s up with this eyeglass fashion thing?” Wolfgang remarked.

  “You’re old school,” May rebutted childishly. “Old man Pop.”

  Wolfgang chuckled as if satisfied. “Sure thing, Missy.”

  “You’re a professor Wolfgang?” I tried to divert attention from May’s appearance, and back on to a worthwhile pursuit.

  “Yes, an assistant professor. I also work as a consultant for a pharmaceutical company,” Wolfgang acknowledged.

  “Didn’t we talk about this already,” Billy muttered with dissatisfaction. What there an ulterior motive to Billy’s awakening from his daze? Any attempt by Wolfgang to be personal and Billy was up in arms.

  “Do any of you ever have problems with sleeping properly?” I posed to switch topics. “If we stood on the same ground with the nightmare themes, age of the nightmares, what about our sleeping habits? Was there another common ground?”

  Wolfgang sighed while running his fingers through his beard. “Not getting adequate sleep was tough but it also gave me a slight advantage.”

  “Advantage?” I questioned in shock. “Not for me.” I realized that there was a third common ground.

  “The reduced sleep hours assisted me in school. I got my doctorate in philosophy and later on in Microbiology before most people finish university. I was one of the youngest assistant professors in the country,” Wolfgang explained, proud of his achievements. “Because of those extra sleepless hours, I was able to do more work.”

  “So you benefited from your lack of sleep?” I probed, trying to grasp why Wolfgang was satisfied with this inhibition.

  “Coffee helped too,” Wolfgang accredited another source.

  “Lack of sleep helped me too,” Billy added in order not to be ignored. “I learnt to play the guitar and other instruments. I wrote tons of music with the extra free time.”

  From May’s face, Billy’s musical talents were obvious.

  “It helped to accelerate my studies in journalism. I wrote hundreds of articles for dozens of newspapers.” May asserted, not to be outdone. “More time to work got me where I am today.”

  In some sense I had a deep misunderstanding as to what was going on here. I slept very little and yet I was unable to do anything other than hope to fall asleep. They have somehow used this sleep deprivation to their benefit. They made lemonade from lemons. I felt useless.

  “Character-wise, how are you as a professor? Do you get along with your students?” May asked.

  “I think I’m a fair person,” Wolfgang assured roughly.

  “What’s the worst think Mister Professor has ever done?” Billy demanded, expecting something boring.

  “That’s an unfair question Billy,” May defended. “We’ve all done bad things.”

  Billy pointed for Wolfgang to respond.

  “Fair enough. I dismissed a part-time student based simply on a personal level. Not a question of competence but of genuine dislike,” Wolfgang admitted with a straight face.

  “Oh, that’s nice.” May reversed her stance and sided against Wolfgang. “Your excuse to fire someone was inexplicable and very unprofessional.”

  “Remember I dismissed him not fired him.” Wolfgang insisted. “There are people who just don’t agree with me. And I don’t tolerate stupidity in people. Those are my dislikes.”

  “We don’t care what your turn-ons are,” Billy retorted triumphantly.

  The remark got a smile from May and a subdued laugh out of me.

  “So Billy or Coax, what is the worst thing you’ve ever done?” Wolfgang asked slyly.

  Billy downed three quarters of his drink in an effort to ignore the question.

  “Drugs, rapes, fights? Or all of the above?” Wolfgang snuck in.

  Billy wiped his mouth with the outside of his hand. “I could lie to you and you wouldn’t know the difference.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything more from you.” Wolfgang boldly demonstrated his lack of respect for Billy.

  “I could mess you up but knowink you, you’d go run to the paparazzi just to screw me over,” Billy replied, fearing a lawsuit.

  “I’m not a coward like you. To be quite honest, I really don’t care about your money.” Wolfgang scratched under his chin near the neckline where the bare skin bordered its hairy counterpart. It was a deliberate attempt to show his lack of concern.

  May and I exchanged puzzled glances. Why such hostility between the two of them? We were in the middle of a feud of sort.

  “How did you come up with the band’s name Tank ‘n’ Wind?” I inquired, wanting to divert the growing unpleasantness between Billy and Wolfgang.

  Placing the glass on the billiard table, thus detaching himself from his drink, Billy looked my way. “Hey, do any of you guys remember a TV show called Tank Rider?” he posed excitingly.

  I nodded immediately. It was a favourite television program from my youth. A band name from a television show, how incredible was that?

  “Oh yeah, I remember such a show. Twenty years later and watching the reruns, it just doesn’t make any sense. The idea that a band of warmongers won every battle was too unrealistic. An ideal war that was glamorized throughout the show with the soldiers that never died,” Wolfgang reminisced and objected simultaneously. “But back then, it was my favourite TV program.”

  “I vaguely remember hearing about it as a kid.” May appeared to loosely juggle the concept of the show.

  I turned to May. “The show consisted of a band of soldiers seeking out an evil, underground empire. Using its stealth tanks and advanced plastic armour—mixed with high level of patriotism—these soldiers were deployed to stop wicked t
yrants from conquering lands.”

  “Maybe girls don’t watch that stuff,” Wolfgang proposed, assured of its truth.

  “No, I remember it now. I thought you were talking about another show.” May thought back. “There were five main guys led by Dutch, the strong and intelligent leader. He was the tallest, oldest soldier who passed on his thoughts on freedom and what the sacrifices it meant. He invigorated the group with pep talks and basically controlled this younger generation of soldiers as puppets. There was Bulldog the crazy guy, Manor the radio guy, Visage the gung-ho one, Mavix the wild one and Ace the engineer guru. Pretty good memory, huh?”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty good memory for someone who can’t remember it,” Billy commented sarcastically.

  We all gave a hearty laugh including the object of the joke, May. She laughed too, someone tolerable of her own shortcomings.

  “Looks like we have another common link,” May identified a point of interest for four almost complete strangers.

  “I liked the TV show Tank Rider so much that I used the name Tank and just combined it with an episode in the show called Wind. Hence, the name Tank ‘n Wind.” Billy finally addressed my question.

  “Oh the intrigue of the rich and famous,” May reveled, sounding a tad in awe. Her eyebrows drew up displaying the excitement inside.

  Billy stood up as if he had more to say than all of us. “I’m goink to the washroom.” He left but not before passing by the bar stand for another refill.

  22

  May leaned over the billiard table towards Wolfgang. “What’s wrong with you two?” she whispered.

  Wolfgang was leaning forward too but after hearing May’s question, sat upright in the chair and shook his head. “Before the two of you arrived we’re discussing a few personal matters,” he explained in a normal voice without fear of any reprisal.

  “And?” May continued in her whisper.

  “Billy mentioned to me that the music video was some sort of release outlet,” Wolfgang explained. “I read about his biography before coming here, and so I referred to him by his first name Billy instead of Coax and he got all offended.”

  Puzzled by Wolfgang’s response, it was odd that we continued to address Billy as not by his preferred illustrious name Coax but what we knew him to be. There was a personal element behind this too, the sight of him so close so interactive was more normal to see him in person and that we would know him personally. Others knew him by the Coax name and we were not the other people.

  “He called us by our first name, why can’t we do the same?” I expressed my opinion.

  “And then he starts asking me personal questions. Where do I live, how much money do I earn, what my middle initial T stand for, how many children I have? So I refuse to answer any of his questions unless he starts answering mine. He flips out and takes off leaving me down here alone,” Wolfgang summarized. “Next thing you know, you two arrive.”

  “Wow,” May said stupefied.

  “It’s so stupid,” Wolfgang concluded.

  “What’s so stupid?” Billy asked, standing by the entrance.

  I was surprised to see Billy back so soon. My gut feeling was he heard our conversation.

  “I was asking Wolfgang if he ever sought help from a psychiatrist.” May casually switched topics, making it appear we were discussing another matter altogether.

  “I eventually did under the forceful commands of my wife,” Wolfgang jumped in on cue in a low tone of voice.

  Billy returned to his side of the billiard table, unaware of the previous conversation while he was gone.

  “Me too.” Wolfgang’s candid answer provided May with the opportunity she desired. “I sought the aid of a shrink for over two years hoping to grasp what was wrong with me,” she acknowledged. “Medication never seemed to work. And then one day the dreams stopped. How about you Joel?” Just as fast as she responded, she passed the issue onto me.

  “I contemplated it but never went.” I lied, embarrassed by my encounters with the doctors and psychiatrists. They never helped other to confuse me with their mumbo-jumbo.

  “Why?” May asked.

  I had a pain in the pit of my stomach. I lied and was being called to defend what I said. “Because it wasn’t doesn’t sound right. Please let’s switch topics.” Distracted I looked down at my shoes. “Let’s talk about something else.” There was not the slightest urge to continue and relive my mental abuses especially from over reactive psychiatrists. It was the past and I was over it.

  “Too many people know about the dreams.” Billy expressed his apprehension.

  “I don’t think it’s anything really that bad since they’re bound to the privacy code,” Wolfgang remarked.

  “Alright,” May sighed, understanding my pain. “Billy, why were dolphins included in your video? I never remembered dreaming about dolphins.”

  May had graciously accepted my intolerance and had brilliantly taken the burden off me. I wanted to hug her for knowing when to quit.

  Billy was silent, rotating his glass over a stain on the edge of the billiard table. He looked to be in a bad mood. He tilted his head sideways and peered at May. “What are you tryink to say?” he urged unnaturally calm.

  May and I looked at each other. Wolfgang crossed his arms in some sort of defiance.

  “Why … why did you use dolphins?” May repeated. “Just curious where you got the idea to use dolphins.”

  Billy once again returned to a silent stare—more defiant if anything. He then scratched the back of his head.

  “Good conversation,” Wolfgang interrupted with downcast eyes.

  I wanted to shout to Wolfgang to keep his opinions to himself. This was obviously no time for remarks like these. As much as Billy bothered me, he knew something that could be beneficial. Something crucial, something he was hiding.

  May indiscreetly rolled her eyes and seemed prepared to storm out of the room with a vengeance.

  “Don’t think you’re so smart,” Billy replied to Wolfgang in a surprisingly even tone. “You got nothink, remember that.”

  “What? Is money a measure of a man?” Wolfgang was being a terrible guest and was inviting a reaction from Billy. “Huh?”

  “You’re lucky to be in my presence and under the same roof. Remember that.” Billy leaned over the billiard table almost effortlessly staring Wolfgang down.

  “Funny, I don’t feel lucky.” Wolfgang stared back bored.

  May jumped to her feet, wanting to calm the situation down. “Let’s recap all the things we have in common. We’re from the same part of Toronto. We’re the same age except Joel is three years older. And strangely, we had the same dreams at the same time period.”

  “Do you think a nerve gas or a spiked drug did this?” I voiced my concern.

  There was a calm returning as we paused pondering up the idea of being administered a substance. I even had an immediate influence on Billy; I got Billy to chill in his seat. And then it occurred to me, they thought about this before. We had the same worries about our lives. A sense of relief passed through me, I was not alone.

  “Does it have to be something physical?” May suggested, sitting back in her seat.

  “What? Like something supernatural?” I considered, willing to believe in anything.

  “Supernatural!” Both Wolfgang and Billy laughed—together.

  I had no idea what to make of that reaction.

  May lit up as if she had an idea. “I know a psychic who may be able to help us,” she proposed, as if it were a cool thing to do.

  “Psychic?” Wolfgang repeated, perturbed by the very nature of the suggestion. “All psychics do is play on people’s emotions.” His voice switched from a satisfying laugh to the callback of a film director.

  “Are you crazy? We can’t trust those people.” Billy signalled his disgust by the thought by turning his back to us to refill his glass at the bar.

  “What are we doing now that is so important? Isn’t it worth a try?” May turned t
o me. “Right, Joel?”

  I was taken aback to the idea. I highly doubted psychics were legitimate. Psychics just seemed so strange. “Psychics, can we trust them?” I wanted to express my concern about this approach in the most unbiased way that I knew how.

  May was not happy. “What harm could there be in going? Best case scenario she helps us.”

  “She who?” Wolfgang immediately noted.

  May cleared her throat as one would prior to delivering a prepared speech. “I know this psychic who wrote an article on visions through the sixth sense. She has demonstrated to numerous people that her talent is genuine. Her visions do not require any information from the attendee. I already had a séance with her,” she stated, completely ignoring the backlash to the idea. “We’re stuck and we have no other avenues to go on. How about we try it? If she provides us with nothing useful then you can yell at me.”

  Wolfgang suspiciously peered at May, eyelids barely open. “How well do you know this psychic of yours?”

  On a deeper level, Wolfgang’s question implied a distrust issue. Had May discussed the nightmares with the outside world, not with a professional but a regular? There was a creepy pause. May told other people. Was May playing us? Or was this psychic playing May? She was on her own.

  “Well enough,” May answered, standing her ground. “She knew things before I told her.”

  “Are you goink to pay for it?” Billy asked May, leaning back on the bar stand for support.

  “I’ll pay for it only if it’s a waste of time, Mister Money-pants.” May smirked in return.

  “Hey! I spend my money wisely on essential fluids,” Billy advised post-humorously. “Joel, what do you say? Don’t tell me you believe in this rubbish?” He slurred a British twist on the word rubbish. “Trust cannot be handed to anyone!”

  “I believe we all have a link to each other in some sort of subconscious level. Maybe it’s worth a try,” May encouraged.

  “No way, girl.” Billy turned to face the bar stand again.

  “The psychic told me I would come back to her. I asked her about my dreams. Come to think of it, she knew my dreams just as well as you guys did,” May divulged.