The Birth of Dystopia

by A. Q. Moser

  “Thank you,” I responded courteously.

  “Good luck.” Aerial smiled at all of us. “Hold strong and remember there is no problem too big to overcome.” She remained seated, hands in her lap just as we had first entered.

  30

  As we manoeuvred out of the rogue house onto the front lawn, Billy and Wolfgang had a disconcerting look that they were duped. In part the deed was done and we were free from being subjected to any further psychic interventions. All we had to do was never look back. Adding to our accomplishment, we remained intact without any violent outbursts despite our disagreement to visit the psychic Aerial. However, the civility could be short lived as Billy and Wolfgang gathered by the sidewalk leading towards the parking lot; each exchanging looks of disappointment for being forced into May’s plan.

  “Thanks guys,” May expressed with a sarcastic tone, possibly provoking an argument.

  “Yeah, thanks May,” Billy returned with a similar attitude.

  “Let’s read our lists,” I declared, not wanting to wait any longer. I had mixed emotions as what to expect from Aerial. This yellow paper in my pocket could be the answer to so many things. Could Aerial explain what has plagued me since my childhood? Then again, it could be a false pretence by a taker out to exploit the foolish provider.

  “So May,” Billy chuckled, “she’s your source for what is news these days.”

  From a smile to a frown, whatever happiness May held onto was gone. Disappointment replaced her effort to help us. Watching idly by, Wolfgang scratched his beard as he sided with Billy’s assessment.

  “You know what Billy.” May crossed her arms over her chest. “You know what your problem is you can’t see past your nose. You’re stuck in your own world.”

  “Ouch, that really hurt me.” Billy pointed to his heart while pretending to have a heart attack.

  Ignoring the onslaught of May’s source, I unfolded the yellow paper. I decided to read the scribbled list out loud despite what other thoughts were floating around about the visit.

  One. Such as the past dictated your future, so too shall a past cut manifest into an emotional liberation.

  Two. Every piece will be found inside other pieces. Seek the Link. Return to the old neighbourhood.

  Three. A name to remember, a past friend will point the way.

  Four. Reality and awareness will change for you.

  Five. Courage, for the plague will flee. A new awakening will rejuvenate the weary heart.

  Six. Hold on for each step will be a step closer.

  Seven. Eventually, your hideout will be your imprisonment.

  Eight. Stand up strong together and fight it out.

  Everyone stood in wonder at the reading. Despite their reaction, I was trying to grasp what these cryptic words signified. It seemed so overwhelming to try to even fathom its ambiguous meaning.

  Then it dawned on me as I reread the words a past cut. I shivered at the possible association. There was a reason my wrists were always covered with a long sleeve shirt. I flashed back to a devastating time as a teenager. One I longed to forget if not reminded by the scars on my fragile wrists. This was a very low point in my life where I believed my life was worthless. I thought I could free myself from the never-ending nightmares and sleepless nights. I sought liberation, as I only knew how, an eternal rest. I survived and moved on. I closed my eyes trying to forget the whole episode. Enough. That low point was a long time ago and it was behind me.

  Peering over the paper, I looked at the group of people before me. “I’m not sure about this list.” Scared, I said the first thing that came to my mind.

  “When I first got my list, I didn’t understand mine either,” May reassured me. “Maybe if Billy and Wolfgang read theirs too then maybe it might make more sense as a collective.”

  Billy unfolded his yellow paper.

  One. So many of the best things in life are from recalling the past and from expecting the future. Remember a namesake from the past and see it to the future.

  Two. Under the truth will be a sacrifice for another. Under a sacrifice will be the truth for another.

  Three. Careful, the truth will be there if one only looks. A trip back to the same mine will resurge the missing will.

  Four. Courage and strength drive hard. Don’t ever nick name your friends.

  Five. Every need dare not be yours. The first will fail but continue on.

  Six. Support the group decision, make it happen for the others.

  Seven. Suffering is your action and your battle over prison.

  “No doubt, my list is shorter,” Billy mocked, looking to high-five Wolfgang for the remark.

  Leaving Billy hanging, Wolfgang unfolded his yellow paper with the ease of an old lady climbing into a bathtub full of steaming hot water.

  One. Stolen life but nothing stolen. The house of the family was not empty but filled in. The past break-in will be a break.

  Two. Create the trust with a foundation of truth.

  Three. Investigate the chipped light through the object of desire.

  Four. Each uncomfortable misgiving will be a reaction of binding elements.

  Five. No blind man sees for the first time with ease. Work at teamwork and the hard shall soften.

  Six. Check an old rejected truth. The guided shall be guided.

  Seven. Expand past the prison and out to the world.

  “Well, mine’s just as short too,” Wolfgang noticed, looking up from his paper for an explanation. “Now what? I don’t get any of this.”

  Retrieving a folded paper from her back pocket, May pointed to the first few words scribbled on the paper. “Read mine. It’s all in the first words of the list,” she announced. “She had it all here and it helped me and my career.”

  One. Scandal will be a brewing for Senator MacLenden. Check the legality of the maid.

  Two. Open the letter on the barren desk. Look for it on the fifth floor of the east Plaza building.

  Three. Unearth the secrets of the racetrack. Seek the stable hand in the backroom. The helper shall help.

  Four. Recheck the breach of city’s cement contract, not everything is as the Advanced Giant Economists, Incorporated claim.

  Five. Chat with an old high school mate and seek a common ground. The journey for enlightenment awaits.

  Six. Engage the difficult source despite the blow of the wind. Not all is junk.

  Seven. Sacrifice is your security. Leave the imprisoning hideout to proclaim the article.

  “Look at number one. This guided me to my big break at nineteen with an article on the Senator. My next big story was on the collusion between the Bull’s Eye Incorporated and DowHigh Company. Number two pointed me to a secret letter left behind by the staff. For point three, I spoke with a stable hand at the Lounge derby on the rampant drug abuse of a new, untraceable drug on horses. Aerial’s list directed me to the stable hand and because of that I got tons of insider information. Do you see it?” May paused for a reaction from the group.

  Nothing. No reply.

  “Look at number five. Chat with an old high school mate. That’s you Billy. I emailed you because of Aerial. Don’t you guys see it?” May shook her head dismayed by the unyielding unbelievers.

  “This doesn’t prove anything,” Wolfgang doubted, turning to face the car—a gesture to leave. “It’s just too ambiguous for any real meaning. This is absolutely rubbish, at best.”

  Billy crumbled his list into a ball and tossed it aside. “Garbage.”

  “Then explain how did Aerial have the lists ready before we got here?” I asked, not fully convinced but still intrigued by the whole episode. It worked for May and turned her into a success.

  “Exactly. Thanks Joel. Maybe she knew beforehand. Maybe she saw the future,” May believed, presenting a clear clairvoyance unwavering in trust.

  “Nonsense,” Wolfgang dismissed, troubled by the very thought that anything logic came from this. “There must’ve been someone else there who wrote these
things down. Anyways, none of this makes sense to begin with. Her words were just too vague and could be applied to any situation. This was a complete waste of time and money.” He reached for his wallet, wanting to respectively share the séance cost with May.

  “Hey,” May responded with her face reddening, “I paid so don’t worry about paying me back.”

  “As much as I disagree with all this, I feel obligated to share the expense with you. Here take a twenty at least,” Wolfgang offered, pushing a twenty-dollar bill on May.

  May pushed Wolfgang’s hand away and with a few quick steps she split from the group. She had enough and needed her personal space.

  I picked up Billy’s discarded list and stuffed it in my wallet for safe keeping. Catching up to May, I slipped a fifty-dollar bill her way, my contribution for the cost of the séance. Inadvertently, the left sleeve of my long-sleeve shirt rose exposing my wrist. My streaked-out scars were visible discernable by the evening light. May’s eyes zoomed straight for the discoloured lumpy tissue, bending closer to catch a better view. I froze in my tracks, unsure how to react. The moment seemed to go on forever. Wanting the show to end, I hastily pulled the sleeve over my wrist and put my arms behind my back.

  May remained, entranced by the image. Her chin rose up while she peered deep into my eyes. She reflected a pitiful pain I knew a long time ago; a time I inflicted the cuts to try to put an end to the haunting nightmares.

  Witnessing firsthand my shame, May seemed unsure how to ask about the details behind it.

  “Do you think the list Aerial gave us will be useful?” I played a distraction card hoping May would move on.

  Instead, I was left waiting for a response. May’s eyes shifted innocently. Not to be outdone, I glanced down at my running shoes in a vain attempt to avoid my embarrassing past.

  “Sorry Joel,” May reacted. “Did you say something about Aerial?”

  “Yeah, about the purpose of our visit.” I wanted to reiterate our stance on the séance in a loud, distracting voice to make May forget what she saw. “I sure hope we can find someone that could help us in our search. I mean we need new venues to check out,” I rambled on in a non-coherent slur, trying desperately to avoid any questions about my scars.

  May seemed entranced by a spell. I contemplated explaining to her about my past but realized that I could not bear to do it. On hind sight, I should have made up a story of a childhood accident to downplay the disfiguring scars. Something like falling into broken glass would have sufficed.

  A hard slap across my shoulder caused me to shudder. “Ouch.” I turned to see Billy by my side.

  “Anyone hungry?” Billy checked, looking for someone to agree with him.

  “Billy, leave Joel alone,” May pleaded, not to the juvenile smack but sympathetic to my self-inflicted torment.

  “I’m hungry. How about we go for some burgers?” Billy suggested, expecting an enthusiastic rejoinder.

  “Are we going to try to find this loner guy?” I returned to the subject pressing the current momentum.

  “Maybe later. Let’s go eat first.” Billy unlocked the car door and slipped behind the driver’s wheel. He removed his baseball cap and adjusted his seat. Not helping the cause, he started honking the car horn. “My stomach is grumblink.”

  Fearing Billy would abandon us here, Wolfgang and I scampered into the back seats, leaving May the front seat. The vehicle rolled out of the parking lot, out in search of one of two things: either the loner guy or a restaurant for food.

  May turned to Billy. “Why did you throw your list away?”

  “I don’t carry garbage.” Billy answered with brutal honesty. “I think there’s a pub around here.”

  “I find it difficult to believe in psychics. Can a prophecy influence the very prediction?” Wolfgang debated the whole premise behind clairvoyance. “Do you know what I mean? Aerial must stand outside time to know the future and just that is very difficult to perceive. There are coincidences and educated predictions based on factual evidence and trends, but not like this. Take Joel for example. Can he change his life based on a prediction and thus prevent a predicted event from coming true? Any information can change a life if the recipient so chooses. The truth is that a prophecy can’t influence itself and thus come to fulfilment. Doing something according to a prophecy means you were influenced. It’s the law of life, and hence not logical.”

  May waited patiently for Wolfgang to finish. “Always the skeptic.”

  “Burgers it is.” Billy and his appetite decided for the entire group.

  “I’ve had enough of this conversation.” Wolfgang sat back. “Let’s go eat.”

  “I’m one step ahead of you. We’re on our way.” Billy aimed his fingers ahead directing the way as he drove.

  And that was where we sat after an uncertain visit, its meaning undecided. Two stood for the cause and two opposed the endeavour. The problem was that the two people standing against the cause were distracted with food, or so it seemed. Who believed in the future of the prophecy and who believed in the moment of the appetite—the choice of mind over matter, or matter over mind?

  The drive was subdued as was many of our discussions were when confided in a moving vehicle. It was a matter of too many opinions and not enough agreements. Billy drove north on Ellinton Street in hunting for a source of food.

  Up ahead was a strip mall bearing bright signs for a dentist lounge, a pool hall and pharmacy. On the far end, a Firkin tavern attached as a corner unit to strip mall. Billy drove up to the front of the tavern and applied the brakes to skid the car to a halt.

  Billy looked over to May. “Can you do me a favour, please?”

  May looked subdued, unsure how to answer back.

  “Burger and fries with the works, pretty please” Billy ordered, as if at a drive thru.

  “You want me to go in?” May’s eyes widened at the disrespect. She looked up as if seeking divine assistance and patience.

  “I’ll go get the food.” Wolfgang offered, gently grabbed May’s arm to have her relax. “And it’s on me. What do you guys want?”

  “I need to get out of this car.” May sneered her upper lip at Wolfgang, flustered at his lack of respect. “I need to use the little girls’ room.” She stepped out of the car and rushed inside the pub. Either she had to really go to the washroom or in need to get away from Billy?

  “Get me a root beer drink too, please. It’s the next best think to what I really want.” Billy smiled, bearing all his teeth.

  “You Joel?” Wolfgang checked with me.

  “I’ll get the same as Billy but no pickles please.” My only pickiness was pickles, too crunchy for my tastes.

  Wolfgang mentally noted the orders and headed out for our dinners. Uncertain, he stopped in mid-step as he checked his back pocket for his wallet. Satisfied, he pulled up his sagging pants and disappeared into the Firkin tavern.

  Billy leaned back in the driver’s seat, positioning both hands behind his head like he was relaxing on a lounge chair by a pool. “May’s startink to annoy me. She’s blinded by this psychic mumbo-gumbo.”

  “The way I figure it, May’s a little complicated. She’s trying to do her thing just like you’re doing what you think is necessary. In the end, we all want an answer about our nightmares.” I tried to show what Billy wants was what May wanted but being done on different levels.

  “Yeah I know.” Billy slammed a fist in the steering wheel. “But—” He paused, succumbed by a sudden out-of-body trance. He stopped moving, maybe breathing. The glazed look spread to his eyes and open mouth. Out for the count but who was really counting.

  Experience told me that it was better to let Billy be Billy. Not to fuss, but simply let it all work out and allow Billy to recover from whatever absent-minded state he was in. Since he was not driving there was no immediate danger to anyone.

  From the Firkin, the two front doors swung out followed by an oversized brown paper bag, Wolfgang walked out holding it with both hands. The s
ide of the bag shone as a grease stain protruded from the side of the paper bag. It was a meal for the unhealthy as those who could muster it would eat.

  An overstuffed bag big enough for four people, at least I hoped for May’s sake that Wolfgang was mindful enough to grab some food for her. Did she really take off? She had a determined persona like a saleswoman fronting a never-give-up attitude despite what people would say otherwise. She rarely shied away from anyone especially to Billy’s insults. I regarded her highly for her willingness to stand up to anyone.

  Overcome by the passion to eat, I stepped out of the car to smell the paper bag full of delightful food. Billy remained behind the wheel. I received the paper bag and dug out the hamburgers for the feast. “Thanks Wolfgang.”

  “It’s my treat guys.” Wolfgang wiped his hands on his pants. “Very greasy, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

  I pulled out a wrapped hamburger, unmarked wrapper so I handed it to Billy. “This one has pickles,” I called out to wake him up.

  Reluctant, Billy took the hamburger. His head still fixed forward as if caught in a permanent position.

  I reached into the paper bag and pulled out another hamburger marked in black with giant letters NO P. I handed the greasy bag to Wolfgang and then unwrapped the paper around the hamburger. One bite and I was swimming with a blast of juicy, lettuce-spilling, mustard-smelling flavour. The bread was dry but everything was just right to satisfy my grease craving.

  Wolfgang set the slimy bag on the car roof and then consumed his hamburger. Both of us leaning on the side of car, we consumed our meal without May, and with Billy stuck in his own world—peace and quiet.

  “Where’s May?” Wolfgang mumbled, not stopping from stuffing his mouth full of food. His untrimmed beard housed remnants of crumbled bread and lettuce shreds. “Is she still in there?”