The Birth of Dystopia

by A. Q. Moser

  May shuddered as she was still startled by the unexpected scream. I nodded, not wanting to oppose the emerging alpha male.

  Billy snapped his fingers and wagged a finger towards the door. The oversized twins left the kitchen obedient and without a complaint. “I need to go to the washroom.” He snuck out of the kitchen.

  Wolfgang’s cell phone played a childish ring tone. “One second.” He placed the earpiece on. “Hi honey.” He stepped out of the kitchen but not far enough where he could not be heard.

  May and I looked at each other. A mixed emotion ran across her face, she was frightened by the scream but then content for getting her way. I certainly hope that the psychic was not a waste of time; I would hate to see Billy pissed off more than he is already.

  Billy returned charged by the outburst earlier. “I want everyone to agree on somethink,” he called us in by repeatedly circling his arms inwards. “Wolfgang, get off the phone.”

  “Honey … I’ll be at the hotel as fast as I can.” Wolfgang turned off his cell phone and joined us.

  “We have to promise not to tell anybody about our meetink including any wives we may have,” Billy sternly warned while looking at Wolfgang. “We can’t be too sure whom to trust as we may be onto somethink big. We have to agree on this.” He glanced at each one of us with a special pause for Wolfgang.

  I nodded straight away. May and Wolfgang followed suit. We all agreed and committed to uncovering the cause of our shared nightmares.

  “Good, I will promise too.” Billy accepted to heed his own warning. “We’ll take my car. I’ll meet you guys out front.” He pointed down the hall, towards the unattended front doors.

  Wolfgang was the first to head for the doorway with May to follow.

  Billy reached for my shoulder as I grabbed my torn jacket. I stayed behind to converse with him in private.

  “I don’t trust people who don’t drink,” he whispered to me and furrowed his eyebrows.

  “He does seem kind of different,” I offered, not knowing what to believe. “Although we don’t know each other and first impressions can be deceiving.” I regretted saying what I did—too much information and I could be not trusted. In my regret, I picked up an ice cube from the sink and rolled it across the table counter.

  Billy stared at me trying to figure me out. “Can I trust you Joel?”

  I nodded several times, hoping for a vote of confidence from Billy. I wanted to be trusted.

  “Let’s keep a close eye on Wolfgang. If he does anythink unusual, we should alert each other.” Billy looked me in the eyes. “Okay?”

  “We should stick together.” I smiled seriously. We have bonded because we will look out for each other—this was our pact. Assured, I lowered my head humbly.

  “Great,” Billy cheered up. “If we ever need them, I got some powerful friends who could help us. But I won’t give away any of the details. You can trust me.” Pointing his right thumb to his chest, he was a reliable person.

  I yawned wide-jawed and teary eyed. It was approaching the afternoon I was feeling the effects of a sleepless night. I covered my mouth not to appear rude.

  “Meet me out front.” Focused to get the task done, Billy proceeded the other way to the back of the mansion. The entire time, he rolled a set of keys around his index finger as if this was all part of his plan.

  28

  Outside the gorgeous three-story Georgian mansion, May and Wolfgang waited by top of the front porch stairs. Scratching his scruffy beard, Wolfgang looked unhappy by the May’s proposition to visit a psychic. May, instead, shuffled through her purse as if organizing it to avoid any further conversation.

  Racing loudly, enough muffler noise to awake the entire neighbourhood, an ancient, maroon, two-door vehicle lugged itself around the side of the mansion. It swerved sideways, braking hard for an extra swerve effect. With a giant dent on the front bumper, Billy produced a low-grade vehicle outside of what I expected from his abundant cash arsenal. No rock star would dare travel in such a vehicle—well, except Billy Coax. Maybe a famous rock star required an inconspicuous mode of transportation to trek through the busy streets of Toronto without being recognized?

  Billy honked the car horn a few times as if we were unaware of the monstrous vehicle. “Let’s go.” He was charged and a tad overzealous about the situation.

  “On our way to a psychic,” May proclaimed with ambition. She rushed down the steps and opened the passenger door.

  I faced Wolfgang. “I’m a bit hesitant about this whole situation but you never know what could come of it.”

  Wolfgang’s only response was to adjust his sagging pants as if pretending to suck it up for the sake of the group. He cautiously stepped down and into the backseat. I followed and piled next to him in the back.

  The backseats had an interesting motif. The seats were torn up and the foam poked through. The ceiling liner hung low compressing the interior like a giant bubble. We had to twist our heads to the side to avoid touching the fuzzy ceiling liner.

  “Nice car Billy,” May commented prior to entering it. “It’s a bit loud and archaic.”

  “It’s a classic. Nothing beats these cars. My father had this for over twenty-five years and it still purrs like a kitten.” Billy fixated on his father’s achievement for keeping an undesirable tin can.

  “Are you all right to drive?” May motioned a sense of reluctance.

  “I’m clean and sober as a whistle. Trust me.” Billy spoke in a low, sombre tone as if mellowed by the alcohol.

  Satisfied, May delicately closed the door expecting the car to fall apart. “We need to get to Scarlet and Ellinton Street.” She looked around for a GPS unit.

  “That’s my old stumpink grounds. Good old York West,” Billy reminisced with delight. “I know the way, like it was yesterday,” he sung while thrashing his head about.

  “Exactly, we go back to our childhoods. Aerial never left that place,” May conceded in a creepy intonation.

  Billy slammed down the gas pedal and we barrelled down his driveway and out through the open gate. The car bounced as we hit the street level, scrapping the underside. He was unconcerned by his actions and revved the vehicle more. With Billy at the hem, this ride was going to be interesting. By the compound exit, the gate guards rushed to open the gate as the roaring vehicle approached the security booth.

  Heading west on highway four-oh-one, we drove out of the land of plentiful and into an area humbled by plainness and simplicity. From the stark contrast of the mansions on acres of land, bungalow houses were built on modest pieces of property. Each home was a testament to a place where families could thrive on home cooking and a good night sleep. Beyond the modest homes, an older neighbourhood emerged as we drove onwards. Matching cosiness to the bungalow homes the sizes regressed to one-story townhouses, many fronting windowed shops as a source of income. These were family-owned stores, basically proletarians with little professional experience that struggled to make ends meet.

  I was returning to my old school neighbourhood. A place I have not been back to in years. A childhood occupied with touch football and soccer games in the schoolyard. Biking was another favourite pastime, summer cycling under the shade of overgrown trees. Other than anything physical, television diverted most of my free time. The world was different back then, less complicated. I lived for the moment. The blissful days encompassed no future goals other than having fun. Times changed. Ever-constant nightmares had me hoping for a better time. Not to mention the car accident by an obnoxious celebrity. I missed the peace and tranquility of youth and this saddened me.

  “May,” Wolfgang called out, breaking the silence. “Before I step into anything, I want to know exactly who this psychic is.”

  From the front seat, May ducked under the loose ceiling liner of the antique vehicle. “I’ll tell you what I know about Aerial, or at least what she told me. She dropped out of high school. I think it was in grade eleven.”

  “A quitter,” Billy remarked as if
expecting it.

  “She said she wanted to follow a calling, a life-altering vocation,” May retorted in defence of Aerial. “She had a spiritual awakening on how to live her life. She referred to it as reaching a higher order above anything anyone could ever teach her. She’s been learning her craft as a psychic for at least ten years if not longer. It was because of a visit I had with Aerial that I contacted Billy. It was on a list she had for me. A list of tasks for my success.”

  “Old news,” Billy dismissed his lack of effort for responding to May’s email.

  “I have to see to believe this,” Wolfgang concluded of May’s description. “How did you meet her?”

  May cleared her throat. “I met her through a friend.”

  “What’s with that throat clearink, May?” Billy suspiciously questioned with a silly voice.

  “No reason.” May returned her gaze to road ahead.

  “Can it be any more obvious that you’re hidink somethink?” Billy pitched his voice in disregard of May’s vicinity and demeanour.

  “What’s your problem?” May confronted Billy, annoyed by the childish behaviour.

  “May, you don’t have to lie to us. We’re all on equal grounds here.” While seated comfortably in the back seat Wolfgang went straight for the gusto. He was calm and respectful to May, unlike Billy.

  Leaning to the side, May propped her elbow on the door while resting her head on her palm. Gazing outside, her facial expression showed more interest in the vast exterior than the ensuing conversation.

  “I think we pissed her off,” Billy clarified with an air of content. “You still breathink, May?”

  May sucked in her lips along with her pride and glanced over Billy’s way. “Just drive please,” she griped.

  I felt bad for May. She was trying to be proactive and believed very much so in this psychic. The constant questioning and confrontational behaviour left her bitter for even trying to be proactive. Were we in for a repeat of yesterday’s incident with May being the target of contempt? Somehow I doubted Billy and Wolfgang were seeing eye-to-eye on her hatched scheme. We were embarking on a journey into the unknown and people just did not know how to react. Confused in how to adjust to the news of the common nightmares, we were acting out our through fear and distrust and wild accusations; acting more primordial with otherwise distasteful and inappropriate comments. No action was satisfactory to anyone. Everything needed to be scrutinized despite the harm to someone’s feelings.

  Wolfgang copied May’s position and crossed his arms to stare abstractly at the pedestrians. The mood ended in a deafening silence. It reminded me of the hit-and-run accident of Mister Popular. A loud thud and then a resounding hush for the shock the event. It was a moment lasting longer than it should; a moment frozen in my mind. I resolved not to think about the tragedy and treat it as a distant memory.

  Following the four-oh-one exit for Ellinton Street, we traveled south on the major street to York West. The main road dipped and dragged up to a strip of five measly stores all linked together. Each store supported an apartment upstairs, accessible by a steel-frame stairwell by side of the first store. As if lacking a creative architect, all five stores were styled to be clones of each other. They housed a giant front window, displaying various knickknacks to be sold and a main entrance door crusted over by old paint that could be seen from street level. One store in particular had a trimmed oak tree in the front yard. On the windowsill of this shop, the second to last shop, an atypical neon sign shaped to a half-star radiating on and off. If not obscured by the thick trunk of the tree the shop would have been easier to spot.

  May signalled to turn into the empty parking lot by the last store. Billy waved her hand away, as he knew where he was going. He pulled into the second parking spot from the roadway next to an over-turned bucket used for transporting grape juice for homemade wine.

  The old neighbourhood was not what it once was. So much has changed. Back then the area was cleaner and better kept. Now, it was deserted by years of neglect. Everything appeared used up and decrepit. It was as if the neighbourhood was a burden on those who had to keep up.

  “If she pulls out any tarot cards, I’m leaving,” Wolfgang advised without any forewarning.

  “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.” May declared her frustration with the matter in an unsettling way. She stormed out of the vehicle, slamming the door in the process, before Billy cut the engine.

  “What’s wrong with tarot cards?” I questioned, believing Wolfgang was acting a tad childish with his preconceived demands especially after treating May in an undignified manner.

  “They tell you nothing. If the tarot cards were true or written in destiny, then they should repeat themselves as if the truth were re-dealt.” Wolfgang lost me in his interpretation. “It’s order over randomness.”

  Having no idea what was said, I nodded to appease Wolfgang. The car was feeling crammed so I leaned into the front door and opened it. The openness of the parking lot was a welcome change from the enclosed proximity of hostility. I stretched out my arms wide to embrace the open space.

  As Wolfgang climbed out, Billy locked the doors and slammed shut the driver’s door. He pulled out a baseball cap and adjusted it low enough to cover half his vision. Like three bandits, we huddled by the vehicle unsure how to precede, each waiting for the other to move first. May stood all alone on the side walk, still showing signs of frustration.

  “Don’t tell the psychic who I am,” Billy advised with caution to May. “And don’t call me Coax in front of anyone.”

  At our first gathering as a group of four, Billy argued to be addressed by his rock star name Coax. In an ironic twist, this visit to a psychic had him wanting his famous name not to be called out.

  There was a mutual nod, not that we were not calling Billy anything else than by his proper name.

  “I should let you know that I told her about the steamboat dream,” May’s voice cracked as she released a secret she held deep down. Unwilling to accept anything more, she walked off towards the neon-sign shop of a self-proclaimed psychic.

  No one commented. Instead, we watched May stroll over to the front door.

  “Let’s leave her here,” Billy suggested to Wolfgang and me.

  Wolfgang shrugged his shoulders. “I’d prefer your first two words. Let’s leave,” he commented smugly.

  “Let’s check to see if the place is closed and then we can leave.” I wanted to be the voice of reason on May’s behalf. “We came all this way.” Problem was being here evoked a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Either we were on the right track or way off.

  Realizing she was alone, May had a piercing stare in an attempt to use will power to make us follow her. Unsuccessful, she approached us as if ready to justify a mission. “I want to say one thing. You all promised me to do this. Plus I want you all to understand something. Aerial provides each client with a list that she prepares before a séance and gives this to the customers at the end to prove her validity in what she says. She knows beforehand who’s coming for a visit so that each client can have a list to check off each event after it happens. This list has both good and bad things that will happen to the client. Her motto is to aim for originality and make people aware of new ideas and concepts. She has been asked to teach classes about her spiritualism but she has declined on all occasions. She prefers a solitary life.”

  “That was a long think,” Billy commented in a low tone. He lounged over to the neon sign. By leaning his face against the window he tried to peer inside.

  Wolfgang tugged up his belt-less pants, annoyed by the whole episode. “Alright! Let’s just get this over with.” He proceeded first, leading us into the unknown.

  Billy followed and I trailed behind. May smiled, knowing her skills of persuasion were very effective.

  29

  Inside, a thin lady sat next to a round table in the middle of a mystical room lit by crystals displacing the light of wax candles. Sitting attentive with her arms
on her lap, her eyes hypnotized by the scattered light. She wore a thin cloak stitched with stuffed shoulder pads, giving her that broad shoulder look. Under the open cloak, she had on a long flowing robe reaching down to her ankles. The wide sleeves of the robe had loose string ends extending over the hands. Her hair was strung back into a tight ponytail.

  The thin lady rose out of her chair. “Welcome, I’m Aerial your spiritual guide. Please refrain from saying anything until I’m done.” She waved her hands in the air, letting the string ends of her robe dance in the air.

  Wolfgang, who originally was the first to enter, somehow squeezed behind May and me, scared perhaps. Distracted, Billy was busy stroking the mesmerizing window drape by the front door. The front window was draped with a dark-blue velvet-type material that reflected the rainbow colours at different angles.

  “Deus lux mea. Purga mentem. Purga carnem. Purge animum. Ita est,” Aerial greeted in a chant-like fashion followed by a bow. “This ancient Latin blessing is for now and the future,” she explained, while closely examining each one of us.

  I stood transfixed but was not the only one. Wolfgang’s pants were sliding down exposing his hips but he was too preoccupied by the perplexing chant to notice. Billy watched while still maintaining a childish hold on the curtains.

  “Every sincere prayer is a prayer for now and the future in seeking our inner peace through constant reflection,” Aerial proclaimed slowly, expecting her words to echo within the small, mystical room. “I know you already.” She indicated to May.

  May nodded gleefully. “I know. I’m back like you said I’d be and I brought company.”

  “This is great news. I’ve been waiting for the four of you. I see you’ve finally united in person,” Aerial said as if she predicted it. “I know all of you but not in person, only through my visions.”

  “I bet that she says that to everyone,” Wolfgang muttered with disdain, accepting Aerial’s words as seemingly fake and scripted.