The Birth of Dystopia

by A. Q. Moser

  “I don’t know. She went in before you.” My mind was on my mouth-watering hamburger. “Washroom, I guess.”

  “More food for us,” Billy spoke up from inside.

  Wolfgang turned to the window. “You hiding out, Billy?”

  “Yeah, from his scary fans.” I laughed.

  Amused Wolfgang nodded. “Nice one.”

  May stepped out from the Firkin tavern and headed towards us, catching our smiles. “You guys laughing at me?” she called out while shaking her head grimly.

  “No,” I defended, pointing to Billy as the punch line to the joke.

  “Oh!” Dismayed, Wolfgang slapped his hand across the hood of the car. “I forgot to order the drinks.” He looked at me unsure what to do.

  “No drinks, let’s go get some,” Billy shouted. “I need a little drink to quench my thirst.” He stepped out of the car and put the baseball cap back on. The rim was curled round to cover the side of his eyes. He waved us to follow him inside the Firkin tavern.

  Looking at each other, we both understood exactly what Billy really wanted. Alcohol. I was fine staying outside, enjoying the evening air.

  May stepped in between us and snatched the greasy paper bag. “Did you get anything for me?” She tore the paper bag open to peer inside. “Are those fries?” She frowned in dejection.

  “It’s the best they got. I didn’t know if you wanted a burger.” Wolfgang spoke up with poise, seeking retribution for making an effort.

  “Let’s go,” Billy shouted, perhaps looking for a drinking partner.

  “Gee thanks guys for thinking of me,” May sarcastically retorted, waving a single French fry in the air.

  “I wanted to get you some food too but you ran off,” Wolfgang defended, cautious not to drop his hamburger as he spoke.

  “Let’s go,” Billy shouted again, bored.

  “I don’t drink.” Feeling compelled for making a mistake, Wolfgang tagged along with Billy.

  “You want some of mine?” I offered May a portion of my hamburger.

  May shook her head miserably. “No, thanks.” Munching the French fries straight out of the bag, she parked herself on the front seat. Unsettled by the lack of support for attending the séance and left with no hamburger, she had little to say.

  I shrugged my shoulders for trying and finished the hamburger. “How long do you think Billy will be?”

  May sulked while tossing fried food in her mouth. “That guy should not be driving if he had a drink. I’m so sick of putting up with his garbage.”

  Billy had the same effect on everyone. His arrogance spilled out everywhere.

  I feared for my life to be in a car with a drunk driver. “Do you want to leave? We can share a taxi?”

  “Yes, please. I’m tired of these guys.” May shoved a handful of French fries in her mouth.

  The front doors of the Firkin swung out. “I think we should leave,” Wolfgang warned of some looming predicament.

  “What did Billy do now?” May stood up, dropping the bag of French fries to the ground.

  Billy emerged surrounded by three star-struck ladies, each clinging to a different part of his clothes. Closely behind them trailed five middle-aged guys gazing at the front man as the bona fide rock star.

  “Sorry ladies but I need to leave now. My friends are waitink.” Fearing trouble, Billy politely excused himself.

  The star-struck ladies screamed in disappointment, clutching tighter. Billy smiled but his face knew otherwise. The situation could quickly get out of his control and he had no backup support. Understanding the predicament, Wolfgang and May climbed into the back seat, and I to the front seat. I shut the door and locked it.

  “Don’t leave us. Let us buy you a drink.” The forty-something lady wrapped her arms around Billy’s waist to stop him from leaving.

  A second lady had her face next to Billy’s, almost trying to steal a kiss. “Would you go out on a date with me?”

  Struggling from the grip of the star-struck ladies, Billy shoved one aside and twisted away from another. He darted to the driver’s side and started the car.

  Behind us was a group of eight people watching us drive away. Their lives transformed by the close encounter with a big name celebrity.

  “Freaky,” Billy commented. “This is why I need protection,” he preached against May’s deliberate attempt to stop him from bringing his bodyguards.

  “I’m so sorry Billy.” May rubbed his shoulder in sympathy.

  “Now you know. Next time trust me.” Disappointed for letting his guard down, Billy focused on his driving. “Don’t worry. I didn’t get a chance to drink.” He anticipated May’s concerns about driving while intoxicated.

  “What’s the plan now?” I asked.

  “Since we’re in the area already, we could try to find the loner guy Aerial described?” May spoke softly, expecting a lashing from the proposal. “She said go to the old neighbourhood.”

  “Do you realize how big the old neighbourhood is? Even if this guy exists, where do you suggest we begin?” Wolfgang threw his hands in the air. “Do whatever you choose. I’ll wait in the car.”

  May reached over and laid a hand on Billy’s knee. “Pretty please,” she begged, “this is the last time I’ll ask for anything. We’re here anyways.”

  Billy removed his baseball cap and pressed his fist into his other palm while mumbling a few words.

  31

  Handling the car hastily, Billy veered the car back onto Ellington, a major street dissecting the old York West neighbourhood. We passed the five-store mall where Aerial instructed us to search for loner. Seeing the ancient lumberyard with the abandoned building and a plastic sign reading DEF Lumber, Billy made a right onto a side street—the same street where the high school Toronto High resided. The dingy street was like any other rundown neighbourhood in the area—a dismal residential area that fell to lack of maintenance by the residents and the uncaring city.

  “I remember this street as if it were yesterday,” Billy remarked in confidence.

  “It looks like nothing has changed,” May observed about the former neighbourhood.

  I approved. “Things never change; they just fall apart in time.”

  The three of them laughed. I had a joke on my hands and had no intention of it being so. Their jovial reaction gave me a sense of belonging to the group. Somehow it gave me a new line of existence. When was the last time we laughed together? Have we ever shared our laughs?

  “Let’s keep our eyes open for a loner with a short haircut or missing something.” May directed onto us her expectations.

  Like tourists assembled in a sightseeing tour bus, we studied the landscape on the lookout for any individual meeting a vague description. Basically, a long shot even if we were lucky.

  Unsure where to go, Billy zigzagged across the numerous side streets—a cruising style as if Billy were out on the prowl for girls on a Saturday night. “There’s nothing here but a past left behind by time.”

  “Was there a junkyard around here somewhere?” I remembered vaguely a familiar retreat for the troublemaking teens.

  “Yeah I remember beink there a lot,” Billy confirmed with a smirk, exposing the prevalent crow’s feet around the eyes. “It’s a place where the cool guys and wannabe chicks go to hang out. I think it’s down this street.”

  Turning right on the first street, Billy drove with a little more authority since he had a better notion of where to go. A clearing by the road indicated where the junkyard lay. Metal poles cemented down to the roadway blocked the path so people could not drive their cars down the hill.

  Enclosed within the junkyard by a chain-link fence were crushed cars, trucks, buses, and motorcycles, each stacked use as much space as possible. There was no particular order to the rusted heap just vehicles piled as far as the eye could see. Shading the corrosive mess were wild oak trees with branches swaying to the gentle breeze of the open area. Swooping high above, birds flourished uninhibited from the human discards.
Life was living onwards despite the human intervention.

  “Last stop.” Billy slammed on the brakes and the car skidded neatly by the curb. “Everybody out.” He retrieved his baseball cap and shoved it on with the determination of an adrenalized madman.

  I was happy we arrived safe and sound. As I stepped out of the car, I held the door open for May and Wolfgang to get out too.

  “Hopefully, I don’t get a ticket,” Billy confidently surmised, checking for any street signs indicating that the vehicle was safe from being ticketed.

  May secured her hand purse under her arm. “Wow, look at all those cars.” She pointed to the junkyard, down a clear pathway beyond the grassy knoll.

  “Are cars still junked there?” Wolfgang asked a legitimate question since the pathway was barely wide enough for a vehicle to fit across.

  “Yeah, maybe they were flown in,” Billy proposed childishly. “I carved my initials on a tree down there.” He winked and nodded at me, trying to signal an ulterior motive. On a mission, he headed directly down a decent towards the enclosed junkyard.

  May and I headed after him. Wolfgang instead leaned up against the car in some form of passive resistance.

  May looked back. “Aren’t you coming?” she expected.

  “Like I said, I’ll wait by the car.” Wolfgang backed up his original lack of effort.

  “Suit yourself.” May did not even bother.

  On a dried-up walkway covered with dead branches and brown leaves, we hiked down the decline careful not to trip on any of the exposed tree roots. Held on to the fence by a single hook was a metal sign, twisted and illegible. As a child, I recalled throwing rocks at this signboard. This made me smile at how simple our pleasures were back then. The junkyard was abandoned and so there was no maintenance of it. Parts of the ten-foot fence hung low, serving as an easy access point to the other side. I wanted to cross over and explore.

  “Let’s hop over.” Billy read my mind.

  “Sure,” I consented almost wanting to be first over.

  “Are there any dogs? I don’t like dogs. Maybe I should wait here.” Dreading a perilous encounter, May searched for a spot to sit down.

  “I don’t remember there ever being any dogs,” I assured May.

  “First one over wins.” Billy jumped on the fence using the top bar for support before I could even agree to the contest.

  Behind, I leapt for the fence next to Billy and whopped it back and forth to throw off his momentum.

  “Stop it,” Billy shouted, losing his foothold.

  Seizing the opportunity, I crawled over the top bar, using it as leverage to swing over it head first with my legs to follow. Flipping in midair, I landed hard on the ground with my butt breaking my fall. “I won,” I said with a little discomfort.

  “Nice one Joel,” May acknowledged my brave win or maybe my comical fall.

  Second to sprawl over the fence, Billy planted firmly next to me. “Cheater.”

  “I still won.” I climbed to my feet and dusted the dirt off of my clothes. I stood in what appeared to be another world, separated by a looking glass. A childhood realm no longer obstructed by a metal cage, I was free to stroll about as I pleased.

  Billy strayed ahead and I followed, leaving May by herself. We moved on a dirt path pressed down by adventurous wanderers curious to see what lay in the beyond. We wandered around rows of old rubber tires and dented bumpers dating back at least twenty years if not more. Every item represented an artefact of what once was.

  “This place is exactly like I remembered it from high school,” Billy reminisced nostalgically. He kicked a loose car fender, attempting to jar it loose from the main body.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. In actuality, I rarely came to see the junkyard since I was not one of the cool teens in high school out for mischief.

  We wandered over to a stack of crushed cars towering higher than the tall trees around it. Starting from the bottom, the pile gradually increased in the amount of metallic wear and tear. It was like a monument to how the aging process varied. The form was a brute art untouched and unadulterated. Around the abandoned cars tarred clothing, bits of an unpaired shoe and used garbage scattered alongside the dirt path.

  “Do you think anyone lives here?” I postulated, assuming there would be a custodian for the junkyard.

  Billy shrugged his shoulders. He seemed more preoccupied by the junk memorabilia than with any other notion.

  Inside, a feeling stirred, an emotional shot that something was here, something that I needed to see or hear or feel. It was an unusual sentiment that I could not explain in any other way. It was a yearning as in some sort of weird detective hunch.

  “Billy, can I tell you something?” I wanted to come clean of how I felt, especially in a one-on-one situation.

  “Yeah what?” Billy mumbled leading us deeper into the junkyard.

  “I have this strange feeling that I should be here,” I admitted shamefully.

  “Like you’ve been here before?” Billy concluded.

  “No,” I refuted immediately, “Well … maybe. Not quite like that. It’s as though I know this place.”

  “Yeah, you were here when you were a teen,” Billy sarcastically replied.

  “I know.” I hung my head low, ashamed of my own words. “Maybe this junkyard is just different.” I tried to change my point—and maybe my feelings.

  Billy stopped and turned to face me. “I’ve been here before a million times as a teenager and I never felt the way I feel now. It’s not nostalgia but somethink else.” He shook his head in dismay.

  “So you feel it too?” I needed to know.

  Billy was serious, a token from his expressionless face. “I got this weird tingle inside of me.” He pointed to his stomach. “Maybe it’s the burger I ate.”

  I was not sure how to feel. “What do you want to do?”

  There was nothing else here except junk. A circus of discarded parts, many rusted beyond recognition. There was no point to wander any further.

  Billy sighed deeply through his nostrils. He surveyed the mounds of scrap metal littering the area and kicked a few stones lying about. “Yeah, let’s split. I thought I could remember where the old make-out area was where I engraved my name in the tree.”

  We traveled as far as we could. We were at uneventful dead end. Turning around, I led us back on the same dirt path to where we came in. The junkyard was vast with its many turns and possible channels through the debris.

  Although I could not explain the yearning emotion, I was inspired to return to my old neighbourhood and relive some fond memories of youth. At the same time the feeling of childhood pains was ever more present.

  Billy walked noisily behind me and every so often an occasional rock flew by my legs. I turned back to catch a hidden smile masking his mischievous actions.

  “It wasn’t me,” Billy remarked, pretending it was someone else pelting me with rocks.

  “Yeah sure,” I muttered, wondering if Billy was being for real.

  In the distance, May was relaxing on the grass. “Anything?” she shouted out.

  “Just junk and old memories,” I summarized the uneventful journey.

  “Well … at least you tried.” May looked disappointed.

  I gripped high on the fence and leaped up planting my toes into the chain-link fence for support. The fence swung out making it difficult to make a climb upwards. To my left, Billy was swinging the fence trying to throw me off. Determined, I held on tightly not wanting to give him any satisfaction.

  “Enough children,” May scolded the both of us. After dusting off any dried up grass stems from the hem of her pants, she headed back towards the car.

  Realizing I was not budging, Billy finally stopped shaking the dilapidated fence. With a gracious wave to proceed over, he offered the opportunity to scale the fence free of his involvement. Safely on the other side, I stood back with my hands safely stored in my pockets. Accepting the unspoken truce, Billy hustled up the fence with the
caution of an old lady crossing the road. When he swung one leg over and sat with the support pole between his legs, I pounced on the fence and gave it my hardest shake possible.

  “Stop,” Billy screamed. His body twisted like a rag doll caught in a hurricane wind. He tilted over the top bar barely hanging on. He was on the verge of crashing down to the ground.

  Pleased by the point I made, I ended my tirade with a fit of laughter. “That’s for what you did to me.”

  Billy slipped off the fence but managed to land on his feet. His eyes held tight to mine. “I’ll remember this one,” he sulked.

  “What? I did what you did to me,” I defended, holding my chin high.

  Billy shrugged off my comment and headed for the car. I followed him not knowing how to deal with the compromising situation. So much for dishing out criticizes and receiving. It bothered me how earlier he tried to knock me off the fence all the while I had taken it without a complaint. When the tables were turned and I returned the favour, he complained of being mistreated. Why the difference in reaction if it were all done with the same delivery?

  Waiting at street level, May and Wolfgang were leaning against the car, one at the front and the other at the back, arms crossed and disinterested by the junkyard episode.

  “It’s about time,” Wolfgang remarked, as if we broke a curfew.

  “You missed all the cool stuff we saw,” Billy bragged—an empty one for that matter.

  Wolfgang stood expressionless, not believing a word.

  “Like what?” May questioned with a confused stare. “A minute ago you said there was nothing but junk.”

  “You had to be there,” Billy replied, playing out his bluff.

  “Sounds like a lot of fun.” Wolfgang was not impressed by our excursion. “Now what? We drive around some more?”

  “Let’s walk around a bit,” I suggested, enjoying the cool air of the late evening. “The day is still nice.”

  “I’ll wait in the car.” Wolfgang excused himself from walking down memory lane of the old neighbourhood. Yawning, he adjusted his sagging pants and climbed inside the car onto the back seat. His head snuggled on the headrest, arms crossed and eyes closed.