The Birth of Dystopia

by A. Q. Moser

  “You inconsiderate idiot,” May responded in outrage. “What right do you have to do this to us?”

  “Why did you do this to us?” Wolfgang repeated in a more tranquil voice.

  From behind his back, the old man waved a folder stacked with papers and a tiny hard drive. “Here’s all the evidence that you’ll need.” He walked over to the metallic garbage can and tossed the objects in. He then proceeded to douse the items with lighter fluid he had stored in his lab coat pocket.

  “Wha … what are you doing?” May called out, still standing by the tunnel opening.

  “I will explain everything but first stand back.” The old man pulled out a lighter and ignited the mixed concoction. “The story ends here in this room, as I am the last knowledgeable participant of the project. I have acquired enough data about this experiment and these documents serve no further purpose.” He stepped back and watched the luminous fire consume the prized items.

  “We need that evidence,” Billy shouted wanting the old man to stop. He rushed to the can and kicked it over spilling the burning material onto the floor. Frantically stomping the blackened paper and melted hard drive, he smudged the burnt bits across the linoleum floor.

  “This isn’t ordinary lighter fluid. It has a faster burning rate. It makes ordinary objects burn similar to flash paper,” the old man explained. True to his word the fire went up too fast to stop.

  The crucial documents burned too fast for Billy to save them. A collage of melted linoleum and paper bits were scattered all over the floor. The old man stood watch, as his demonstration went up in smoke. Was this an intentional act for all of us to witness?

  “I would like you to know that I too was experimented on,” the old man admitted without remorse for what was done. “For your information, I didn’t start the project but I was here when it was first conceived. The initial results were very disturbing to say the least. We did learn a lot and made significant advances on the project. We were able to learn to direct and suit a person’s life. This was a sort of controlled personal best. Hence the project’s name Ameliorate.”

  “The purpose of the project was to develop a simple mental training exercise that could be administered subconsciously. In its beginnings, adults were chosen and subjected to subliminal TV messages. Not to brag but I was one of the key participants who succeeded in the exercises. I did what your army friend here tried to do; I worked my way up the hierarchy of the military. I’m a level sixteen scientist, the highest level a scientist can reach. I owed it to the Ameliorate project. As such, I’ve been privy to learn of the progress of each participant in phase I and II of the project.” The old man studied our faces. “Phase II moved to a younger audience, the chosen ones. You’ve all demonstrated similar symptoms as your elder counterparts but somehow you were able to do more with your life than any of them. The success stories are obvious, May’s extraordinary journalistic skills, Wolfgang’s achievements as a renowned microbiologist, and Billy the famous superstar. Some showed more success than others.”

  Engrossed by every ominous word by the old man, it was as if I were glued to the words spoken by a deity. A revelation was manifesting and all I could do was watch and listen in a fearing awe. The mention of my name never came. My feelings were replaced by sadness. Was I a reject of the project?

  “One of the amazing benefits of the project is that each one of you have been bestowed the drive to succeed even under adverse conditions,” the old man explained. “You achieved because we changed you so you could achieve. Amelioration is possible when applied as dedicated subliminal mental stimuli at a young age. Can you imagine the implications for humanity of producing a genius child without the innate genius genes?”

  Really? I had no job success in life. The lack of recognition was hurting me more. I was pegged as unsuccessful and thus the lowest of the assembly. My heart weighed heavily and I bowed my head in shame.

  “Who are you exactly?” Cadet asked.

  From his lab coat pocket, the old man pulled out a metal tag bearing his name. “My name is Tamme, and welcome. It’s about time we meet face to face.” A gracious nod followed as he left the nametag on the counter of the metal table. “Although I wished the meeting place was a little more tasteful—meeting in here and all.” He opened his hands indicating the absurdity of the storage room, our entry point. “This abandoned space, almost forgotten by the military hands that reside here. Yet here we are together. I have but one question to satisfy my curiosity. How have the five of you banded together?”

  “Enough with the double-talk,” Wolfgang reacted anxious to advance the conversation in our favour. “I have questions of mine own. Why us? Why children?”

  “Fair enough,” Tamme obliged, showing nothing was up his sleeves. “We.” He looked behind as if to an invisible companion. “I was the lead scientist for this project. Basically, we looked for families with a healthy, single child that demonstrated low test scores in school. We localized the project to the region of York West in Toronto. The digital TV signals to a popular children’s TV show were easily hijacked and mixed with a subliminal signal before being transmitted into the subject’s house. The TV show in question was Tank Rider. I’m sure you remember such a TV show. Once again I’ve been honest with you, so I expect the same. Please explain to me how did the five of you find each other and meet up?”

  Perturbed by the explanation, Billy shook his head doubting Tamme’s position of power. His face boiled with an unexplained wrath.

  “Each one of you has been granted a special privilege to participate in the project.” Comfortable disclosing the history of the project, Tamme tucked his hands in his lab coat pockets. “Determination was bestowed upon on all of you. Determination to leave your destined lives—boring, unachievable desires—and reach social greatness. Let me reiterate the facts: Billy the capability to master the musical element, May to you an investigative drive, Wolfgang a scientific curiosity.”

  Of course, there was no mention of my name again. I was hurting badly, weak at the knees.

  “Determination? How so, through lack of sleep?” I bitterly rejected any benefits from the project.

  “More than you believe,” Tamme answered, satisfied to let me vent my frustration.

  “What about Joel and Cadet?” May checked.

  Tamme pointed to Cadet. “Cadet? I assume Cadet is this man?” He turned to Cadet. “Is Cadet your new nickname?” He applauded, amused by the nickname.

  Prepared to face the enemy, Cadet clinched his fists and stepped up to Tamme. He stood at least a foot over Tamme and appeared to grow in stature for the anger he was suppressing. He was like a starving lion waiting for the tender prey to wander closer.

  “Please.” Tamme smirked off Cadet’s threat as futile. “I have a military force beyond measure … here. Literally.” He stuffed his hands back in the pockets of the lab coat. “The project had but one true child outlier. Mister Cadet was a failure,” he cruelly depicted. “A dropout from high school and a dishonourable discharge from the army.”

  Unmoved outwardly, Cadet remained poised as if a scheme was brewing. He raised his hands to his face and cracked his knuckles. A thick blood vessel propped out from his forehead from the boiling fury within.

  “Success is not always a measure of social supremacy. For example, Joel is different by this regard. He achieved what he could with what little he had to start with. He made it as a computer packager. Not bad.” Tamme smirked as if proud of this achievement. “Tough break on the Mister Popular trial.”

  Labelled a project disappointment felt so hurtful, more so than having Tamme conjure up a recent life setback with the Mister Popular trial. As if this was some sort of sick joke, I was dumbfounded with no idea on how to respond.

  “And finally the sixth chosen one from the York West region is Miriam Powers.” Tamme held up six fingers. “She appeared to have surpassed all expectations. Somehow she reached a higher level of unimaginable success. It is truly an unexpected sit
uation, which I am unable to fully explain. Her capabilities are a vital asset to the military.”

  “Miriam? Who is Miriam?” Billy shouted, baffled by the mention of the name.

  “It’s Aerial. Miriam is her first name,” May explained about her psychic friend.

  Annoyed, Billy cringed and bared his teeth by the mention of Aerial, his noted traitor.

  “I’m impressed that the six of you know each other. In either case, I hope you can fathom how this has benefited all of you. You’ve achieved success under undeterminable odds.” Tamme seemed satisfied by the experimental results. “You’ve become what you could not have on your own merit. You should be grateful for the opportunity bestowed onto you.”

  “Grateful? Grateful of losing control of our lives to your experiment. No matter what, the ends don’t justify the means. And we survived, I … I can’t imagine the other children, the ones that did not make it?” I demanded, torn by what to believe in anymore.

  “Please believe me that there were no children lost to this project. Only our adult volunteers lost out. But because of your progress, we’ve learnt so much about the work.” Tamme perked up onto his toes, pleased by the outcome. “Since I’ve been honest here, I have the same question for you. Please explain to me how you five met each other?” He had an impatient edge to his question.

  “Don’t tell him anythink,” Billy sternly warned. “He doesn’t need to know.”

  Ready to attack, the rage shared by Cadet and Billy was like two vicious pit bulls prompting for a fight of their life. Their dilated eyes pierced the old man in savage retribution.

  “I would like to remind the five of you that you broke into a military institution. That is mandatory jail time or even worse, I could have you killed for trespassing.” Tamme’s mood changed and he clapped twice in the air as a signal.

  In an instant, five uniformed officials rushed inside armed with machine guns. “Drop back,” the officials screamed in unison. Their intruding guns pointed our way.

  In view of the imposing reinforcements, Cadet and Billy stepped back. We all lined up by the back wall, next to the hole to the tunnel. In true bully style, Tamme had to prove he was in control of the situation with a forceful exertion.

  Tamme smiled in satisfaction. “Please withdraw and wait outside.” Once the last official left, he shut the door. He turned to us. “Since you’re in a lot of trouble, I suggest you tell me what I need to know.”

  “We’re not going to tell you anything.” I continued the defiance.

  “I’m trying to be nice and explain all I know about the project,” Tamme pleaded.

  “Don’t you get it, we don’t care about you,” Billy added in a cheeky tone.

  Stretching back, Cadet withdrew a pistol faster than any dramatic act displayed in any Wild West footage. Standing in a southpaw stance, he aimed at Tamme’s right temple. Before Tamme could signal for help, Billy concertedly caught Tamme by the wrist and struck him in the back of his wrinkled neck with the other hand. Tamme collapsed to his knees, whimpering in delirious pain.

  The role reversal was finally at hand. No longer were we the low level workers expected to perform at the beckoning of the circus master. The power was ours to wield as we see fit. I almost wanted to encourage Cadet to pull the trigger and be done with the old man. This project ruined my life and any hopes of a normal existence and I blamed the old man and what he represented.

  “It all ends here if you kill me. I’m the last scientist who knows of the project. No one else knows of it,” Tamme whispered in agony. He made an attempt to get up from his fours but Billy held him down.

  “We use him as a hostage to get out of here,” Cadet highly recommended.

  Okaying the matter with a nod, what else could be done other than surrendering?

  “What don’t you understand? No one gets out of this room alive.” Tamme stood certain of his conviction.

  Seeing past the frosty glass doors, there was no movement from the armed officials. Could we actually get away with this?

  “We need to move out now.” Cadet signalled with his head to the tunnel and motioned with his lips to head for the station wagon. “May and Joel, start the car. Make sure no one is around.” He adlibbed the word go.

  Elated to leave the compound, May grabbed the car keys from Billy and together we climbed through the hole back inside the tunnel. Before I could turn on my flashlight, May was off running, jingling he car keys as she ran. Chasing after her, I sprinted as hard as I could. Each step echoed as a bass drum beat in a long corridor. The cold underground tunnel did little to cool me, sweat dripped off my forehead like I was in a steam sauna.

  Retreating was no easy matter but neither was the notion that the old man stumbled upon us in a storage room in an isolated area of a military base. He must have known we were coming? Would we be hunted down? Where would we hide? Was the retaliation too easy that the military were not expecting it nor would they ambush us? I was truly scared for my life.

  Veering around the last bend in the tunnel, a glow of sunlight wrapped around May as she ran ahead. Wisps of her hair swung wildly as the tunnel exit drew closer. She scurried up the stairs and out to the station wagon. I halted by the exit, peering over the ledge expecting a trap. The tall trees swayed to a light breeze, other than that there was no other visible movements. May stood by the driver’s side door fumbling with the car keys to unlock the station wagon.

  Even though our impromptu plan for escape was moving along nicely, there just seemed too much on the line. I felt so tempted to flee with May from this crazy venture. But the gang needed me and it just did not seem right to abandon them like this. In the end, I wanted to learn more about the Ameliorate project and thus cease all recurring nightmares. I tried to regulate my heavy breathing and remain calm.

  Adjusting the car seat first, May started the station wagon and crouched low behind the steering wheel staring back at the tunnel. It was not obvious as to whether she could see me. I wanted to wave back but instead I sat patiently on the lower step hiding, feeling the beads of sweat roll down from my forehead.

  Surrounded by the abyss of the tunnel, sounds stemmed from a trio dragging a subdued hostage. By the last corner, a large black blob moved closer.

  “Joel?” A distorted whisper resonated in the tunnel.

  “Yeah,” I responded back.

  “Any problems?” The whisper belonged to Billy.

  “Coast is clear,” I asserted.

  “Let’s hurry,” Cadet whispered with a sense of urgency.

  Arms locked around each of Tamme’s legs, Billy led the procession while Wolfgang held onto the arms of Tamme. The old man was sprawled out with his eyes closed. If not for the weaving and bobbing of Wolfgang and Billy, there was no resistance. Cadet came last, covering the back with the pistol by his chest in case someone tried to follow.

  Working in unison, they ascended the stairs and marched towards the escape vehicle. May kept revving the car as if in a state of panic. I rushed by the side door serving as the devoted lookout.

  Helping out, Cadet opened the rear door of the station wagon to which Billy jumped in still clutching onto Tamme’s legs. Working together, Wolfgang and Billy worked to pull and shove the lifeless body inside the vehicle. Wolfgang and Cadet hopped in the cargo area too, crouching beside Billy. Cadet pulled in the rear door shut.

  Opting to stay up front next to May, I climbed in and slammed the door. With May behind the wheel, the station wagon roared out spinning off the tire trial. She charged through any green thing that stood in the way. The bumpy road tossed us around like dried corn popping over a hot stove. Without a seatbelt on, I held onto the door handle to stabilize the erratic motion of the station wagon.

  In the back, Cadet handed the weapon to Billy and swept his hands across Tamme’s clothes especially checking the insides of the pockets and his cheap tennis shoes. “No I.D. on him.” He shrugged his shoulders not sure what to make of this.

  Driving a tad aggr
essive, May peeled out onto the unpaved shoulder of the highway spitting out lots of gravel from the rear of the vehicle. The station wagon veered out onto the asphalt of the highway and we were off heading south.

  “My heart’s racing like a jackrabbit.” May exhaled as if out of breath. “I can’t believe we’re doing this. I don’t like guns.”

  “I just hope we don’t regret what we did,” Wolfgang lamented.

  “It was our only course of action,” Cadet explained. “We just broke into a military base. Do you think they were going to let us walk in and out whenever we like to?”

  Under any other circumstances, Cadet would have been branded a lunatic. Specific to this case, he was absolutely right. In the absurdity of this thought, fear crept in. Our true intentions were to uncover and expose the culprits. Instead we kidnapped an old man. How could this be rationalized as justice? This was so unbelievably wrong for so many reasons.

  “You can say we took the bull by the horns.” Billy sounded like a head coach delivering a pep talk. “We control our destiny not them. We have the upper hand now.” He gave Cadet a pat on the back for a job well done and waved the pistol around as liberator of sort.

  Cadet opened the duffel bag and looked to Billy. “We should hide the gun.”

  Needing a little extra time with the piece, Billy rubbed the side of the handgun and followed the order to conceal the weapon.

  I glanced back to see Tamme was unconscious. “Is he dead?”

  “Nope.” Cadet grabbed a fuzzy blanket crumpled in the corner of the station wagon and proceeded to wrap the incapacitated old man. “I want to make sure he’s nice and cozy for his little nap.”

  I reached out for May’s arm. “Drive carefully and calmly. There’s no point in getting pulled over by a cop especially with this cargo.”

  May nodded. “Where are we going?” She leaned forward with her chin a few inches from the steering wheel as if this would make her more cautious of the road.