The Birth of Dystopia

by A. Q. Moser

  Are we a society with the odds against us? How could we have begun with mere chemicals mixed together to form a protein soup? What were the chances of the ideal chemicals on an ideal planet?

  If you ask me, our odds were near zero. Yes, near zero. And now, look at us, all high and mighty. Ready to destroy anyone who comes in our path? So sad—

  A drifting was occurring as the tension in my mind lifted. My eyes slip closer together till they slid shut. I plunged into nonsense.

  * * *

  24

  A gush of blood flows hard towards my feet. My feet throb to the increase in blood pressure. The floor revolves around as if I am in a centrifuge, a strange twilight zone like a spacecraft spinning on a planetary orbit. I am able to exhale but there is nothing to inhale. For each attempt to inhale I produce a scorning sound as if I was being tackled in the chest. I must be in space, somehow.

  I can move and so I move forward, pushed down a dismal hallway lined with faded chestnut brown wallpaper and matching carpeting. As I move onwards agonized by each step, I scrape the sides of the walls because the width of the hallway is smaller than the width of my shoulders. A thick carpet cushions every involuntary step I take. Illuminating my way, above my head are round yellow lights positioned at every step I take.

  My peripheral vision is only what lies ahead of me as cups on the side of its face block a street horse’s vision. In the same way as a rider controls his horse, I am controlled to do someone else’s bidding. I am only to concern with things before me and not behind me.

  I approach a set of three uncarpeted steps acting as an obstacle in the way like a giant boulder on a hiking path. I do not want to continue this journey but I am pushed up the stairs. I feel like a plastic doll in a toy house, shifted about at the whims of a little girl playing house.

  I feel a draft and I realize I am drenched from perspiration. The path ahead is mysterious and perilous; it requires my full attention. The passage changed, it is lined with numerous doors painted in a bright white. Each door appears to be inviting me in enticing me with unspoken mysteries. I want out of this nightmare but I dare not open any of them.

  I sense a voice calling out and so I listen.

  “The way out is straight ahead.”

  A few more steps forward.

  “The way out is straight ahead.” The proclamation is louder.

  My lower torso responds robotically. I no longer control my movements. Doors pass by me quickly; I am sprinting down the corridor. The relentless pain increases as the walls rub harder against my shoulders.

  I follow as being led, pushed involuntarily forward unable to hold back. I am not sure if anyone is behind me, as I cannot check.

  Suddenly, the end of the hallway journey appears out of nowhere. The hallway opens up to twice its width for two doors lie before me, centimetres away from each other. There is nowhere else for me to go—returning back is no option.

  A peculiar presence of eyes are watching me, watching and studying how I conduct myself. I feel them, not see them as if the walls are one-way mirrors where a team of scientists are observing my decision.

  I do have a choice but it is only between two doors. It is not much of a choice. It is an unfair choice. I feel like I have missed something. As if someone took a piece of my life away. I am angry.

  Both doors appear exactly the same in size and colour except the left door has a protruding doorknob in the shape of a goat’s horn while the door on the right side has no door handle but has writing on it. Across the front of the door are three sentences but all I can make out are the first letter of each sentence—P, A and M inscribed in a western calligraphy.

  The three initials penetrate my mind, searing the image as a brandied calf is marked for life. In a flash, I am floating in space, lifeless like a tossed doll. The view of the letters diminishes into obscurity. A second force tugs at me stretching my body as if I were elastic. Everything around me is dark and void. The narrow hallway and the letters are only meant for a glimpse like a child sneaking a peek at a partially unwrapped gift on Christmas Eve.

  * * *

  I awoke gasping for a breath of cold air. My undershirt was drenched especially around the collar. I scanned the area in a dazed confusion desperately trying to gather my bearings. Staring intensely around the room for any malevolent beings, the figureless shadows faded and I recognized my familiar bedroom. Feeling a drenched pillow, I tossed it aside.

  Another nightmarish night. I had another confusing nightmare that resembled the same intensity and fear of every nightmare before it. What could it mean? What could the initials P, A and M mean?

  I could turn to May. She gave me her cell phone number. I immediately had to call her. She would understand.

  Retrieving May’s telephone number from my wallet, I picked up the home telephone and dialled out. “May!” I called out, expelling a compounded exhale.

  “Joel, is that you? What’s wrong?” May’s voice trembled on the other line.

  “Sorry May for calling in the middle of the night. I had another nightmare. I needed to know if you had the same thing.” I sought an answer to the nightmare.

  May sighed in relief. “You scared me. Whenever I get a call in the middle of the night, I’m always thinking that something bad has happened.”

  “Sorry May, I didn’t know what to do. I felt I had to talk to someone about the nightmare,” I excused the late calling. “Did you have another one of those nightmares?”

  “No Joel,” May eecked in disgust. “I can’t remember having any dreams since I was nineteen. I can kind of remember dreaming of a phone ringing, maybe subconsciously hearing it.”

  “This nightmare was so intense and real. I was thrown into this crazy hallway in outer space and with all these doors calling for me. And then there was a door but only the first letter of each sentence is readable. P, A and M.,” I ranted insecurely.

  “That sounds weird. Maybe it has to do with some place you visited? Joel, these bad dreams never made sense to me. Anytime I tried interpreting them I just end up more confused.” May switched in mid-sentence from being comforting to being outright abandoned. “My shrink said not to dwell on these things too long otherwise you’ll start to lose your mind.”

  I could not believe what I was hearing. Here I was pouring out my deepest nightmare and all May could respond with was to forget about it because it might make me go crazy. It became clear that I made the mistake of calling May and asking for advice. I was wrong in believing she would understand. I deeply regretted my actions. Not a single person could ever understand the ramifications of these nightmares. My hands trembled.

  “Maybe you know someone named Pam,” May offered some advice, grasping how agitated I was becoming.

  I paused, settled down and contemplated whether to continue this discuss about the nightmare. “No, I don’t know anyone with that name.” My mind was flying everywhere and I could not hold down the words to talk about it. I wished I had not called May. My senses were heightened but they served me no purpose.

  “If it makes you feel better, my dreams were like that too. You know that feeling of being controlled by someone else. It’s as if you were watching someone else but you know full well that it was you. And then you do something or see something that was incredible or unrealistic,” May expressed my sentiments with the assurance of a psychiatrist fitting into the shoes of their patient.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” I was done talking.

  “Did you open any doors?” May asked, intrigued for some reason.

  “No,” I mumbled disappointed for trying on my part.

  “I don’t know then. Maybe we should let the others know about this?” May suggested ill advised.

  “No, please don’t. Please keep this between you and me. Please promise me,” I pleaded, uncomfortable with where this was going.

  “I promise Joel,” May spoke sincerely, soft and delicate—definitely genuine.

  “These nightmares are not mine. I just
know it. It’s like someone implanted them in me somehow.” I was anxious and deliberately trying to focus. “You need to believe me. It’s just not natural.”

  “Joel, try to take it easy. Just relax and get some sleep. Let’s talk about this tomorrow. I can’t think straight right now.” May yawned in my ear over the telephone. “Tomorrow we can talk more when we’re more relaxed. Okay?”

  A thick mucus formed in my mouth forcing me to swallow hard. “Okay.” My only choice of action was to agree.

  “Tomorrow for sure,” May promised, her voice mellowed down.

  “Sorry to have bothered you,” I pardoned my actions while still staring at my trembling finger. “Don’t worry about this. Maybe I’m just too nervous about things. Just forget about it. Goodnight May.”

  May yawned rudely again. “I’ll see you tomorrow Joel. Cia—”

  I hung up the telephone before May could finish. The conversation had to end it was too one-sided.

  With my eyes closed, the room became alive and I grew fearful of my bedroom. In a fully aware state, I jumped to every creaking sound. Fear had a hold on me. I reacted to each sound through the concerted effort of focusing my ears and eyes at the possible origin of the sound until my heart felt it was safe again. It was always a struggle to return to sleep. All I could do was toss and turn about.

  The bedroom brightened as trickles of light reflected out from under the drapes covering the window. I rolled into a ball and wrapping the blankets around me. A new day was dawning and I was not ready to greet it.

  I felt May let me down. I thought she would understand my pain. I wanted to recount every nightmarish detail to her, every forced heartbeat and tense moment that my uncontrollable body experienced. But instead her interest lay in returning to sleep. Billy was no better; he would insult and mock me. And I barely knew Wolfgang, let alone I did not have his telephone number. I struggled because I was alone, alone with my thoughts and nightmares. Why were nightmares referred to as dreams? Billy and Wolfgang did this too. They were more than bad dreams, but nobody understood this.

  All the pain of facing the new day was amplified as I concentrated on resolving my issues with May.

  Disturbing thoughts to say the least, I sought the refuge of my couch in the living room. The security of the open area was more suited for resting. I did not want to watch television but stared at the blank screen.

  Brightness snuck into the living room and the night hid. The day was unfolding and I was awake again to witness the same old sunrise. Every night was the same and every sunrise was my testament to being awake. I watched on helpless. Not intrigued by sun’s illuminating powers but by the gentle, subtle warmth it brought—the giving gift of heat without asking for anything in return.

  When the entire living room was lit up, I got up and stretched. Slowly but surely, I made my way through my morning routine, taking breaks to slow down my progress.

  The home telephone rang. It startled me; it was so early in the morning. Who could be awake at this time too? The caller ID showed May Chao.

  “Hello,” I answered the call.

  “Bad news,” May spoke unevenly. “Billy won’t meet again.” She sighed loudly.

  “Why?” I sounded disappointed.

  “Do you sleep okay?” May was concerned for my wellbeing.

  “Not really,” I truthfully replied.

  “Well get some sleep and I’ll call you back.” May rushed her words and hung up.

  I was left holding the telephone, not knowing what to do. The group was done? Four strangers disbanded over a foolish squabble. I was sad and disappointed in believing that we could unravel the mysteries behind the nightmares.

  I felt compelled to do something. The only thing I could think of was Marie. She was my only true friend and we were still not on talking terms. The fiasco at the concert had her thinking I ditched her at the concert. I wanted to see if she calmed down since we last spoke and maybe resolve the mix-up.

  Mustering up some courage to face the challenge, I puffed an air ball from the side of my mouth. With the telephone still in my hand, I dialled for Marie.

  “I’m not home right now, but please leave a message,” Marie’s answering machine dictated.

  I cleared my throat. “Hi. It’s me Joel. I want to talk to you. Please. I’m at home.” My words sounded so pathetic and feeble. It was as if I were stretching out a saving hand for a drowning friend who chose not to grab on.

  I hung up the telephone and lay down on my couch.

  The telephone rang out. I eagerly checked the caller ID. It was Marie. She was returning my call. With a deep breath, I lifted the receiver.

  “Marie,” I responded, hopeful a compromise can be made.

  “Hi Joel,” Marie spoke distant. “I think we should talk.”

  “Sure, of course.” My spirits rose for I anticipated the return of an old friend.

  “Let me get to the point. I’m upset with you for abandoning me at the concert.” Marie heaved a sigh. “I want to know why you did this to me especially since I went out of my way to try to cheer you up. You know, with the court case and me making you dinner. I even took a day off work for you. Why did you have to hurt me like this?”

  “Marie, I’m so sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to leave you at the concert. Please believe me. I’m so sorry, so really sorry.” I wanted to cry out in pain.

  “Just explain to me why.” Marie’s anguish was more deliberate.

  “Yes of course. Well … let me remember.” The opportunity to redeem my actions was at hand, I needed to seize the opportunity and try to patch things up. “While you were in the side room, I waited in the hallway. This drunken guy started talking to me. Before I knew it, he was dragging me with him into another room on the other side of the hallway. This guy was drunk out of his mind.”

  “You didn’t get him another drink?” Marie interrupted, curious of my responsibility.

  “Yeah I did but he didn’t drink it because he passed out.” I was disappointed for not thinking the situation through. “So I left the drunk guy and go for a stroll to see who’s in this room. Low and behold I ran into Billy Coax. I swear. He gave me an autographed poster, which I want to give to you.”

  “What did he look like?” Marie was talking and interested in hearing my story; this was a good thing.

  “He was wearing a turtleneck and had an impressive watch with lots of diamonds on it. And then he recognized me as the guy from the trial.” My ridiculed testimony was a blessing in disguise. It was a peculiar revelation.

  “Really?” Marie was surprised.

  “I swear it’s the truth. We exchanged a few words and then I spill my guts out about my childhood nightmare I had and the coincidence with his steamboat video.”

  “Good for you to let it out.” Marie was proud of me.

  The situation was shaping up as we were almost on friendly terms again like old times.

  “Next thing I know,” I cleared my throat, “there were tons of bodyguards and some guy was screaming for everybody to get out. Everyone was freaking out and in the process I was trampled to the floor. I was so scared and confused. Then one of Billy’s guards pulled me out and sat me down on the couch. Billy abided in me that the music video with the steamboat in it was an inspiration from a steamboat nightmare he had as a child. I was totally freaking out at the moment. Then he wanted to meet me again the next day and then he offered me a ride home. By then, it was way past midnight. I’m so sorry Marie but I completely forgot about you. Everything was so confusing. The whole time with Billy was a blur. I mean how he could have had the same nightmare as me. Plus it was late and I was not thinking straight. I really am so sorry for taking off on you. Please forgive me.”

  There was a pause. Marie’s thoughts were hammering away at her.

  “Oh and I got you a signed poster of Billy and his group Tank ‘n’ Wind,” I repeated, wishing to content Marie.

  “So you were thinking of me?” Marie asked a loaded question.<
br />
  “I guess so.” I hoped my truthful response was not going to backfire. “You can meet Billy if you want. I’ve been to his humongous mansion several times.”

  “Meet Billy Coax? Wow that would be nice since I didn’t get the chance to meet him while I was backstage.” A red, abashed glow was evident from the sound of Marie’s voice. “You really can do that?”

  “Sure, I don’t think it would be a problem.” My one and only connection to high society, I might as well flaunt it especially if it wins back a friend. “I would have to get back to you when you can meet him. If that is okay with you?”

  A cheerful blurb from the telephone meant one thing Marie was smiling. “I forgive you Joel.”

  “Thanks Marie. It’s great talking to you again. I missed you.” A load lifted off my heart as a part of my life was back on track.

  “I need to cover a morning shift at the deli. I’m off to work so we can talk later. You need to tell me more about Billy and his mansion. I’ll call you tonight?” Marie anticipated.

  “Sure. Have fun at work. Bye.” A new flow of energy emerged from inside such that I could run a marathon or two.

  “See you soon. Bye.” Marie hung up the telephone.

  Since I was on the telephone, I needed to return my parents call. I completely forgot about them and basically ignored them on yesterday.

  I dialled in.

  “Hello, you’ve reached the Taw residence. Nobody’s available to answer your call. Please leave your name and number after the tone. Bye.” It was a message from my mom. My parents were out, probably for an early morning walk.

  “Hi mom and dad. How are you guys doing? I’m doing fine, much better since Wednesday. I just needed some time to cool down. I’m home if you want to talk. Bye.” I hung up.