The Birth of Dystopia

by A. Q. Moser

  Billy stopped singing and cocked his head back at being interrupted. “What?”

  “How safe is this house?” Wolfgang wanted to be sure. “I mean if you use to live here, how come nobody knows about it?”

  Billy nodded, as he caught on to what Wolfgang was asking. “Wolfgang.” He reached over and wrapped the other arm around his shoulder. “Let me assure you, that this place is unknown to everyone. I lived here because I ran away from home once. A long time ago, this was my hideout. I bought it under a pseudonym for Bruno and Giselle. So don’t worry, it’s untraceable. Better now?”

  Detailed like a picturesque motif, Wolfgang, Billy and May stood together like old high school friends posing.

  “I believe you.” I believed Billy because he was sincere and assuring in his dedication and in his response.

  “Yes, I feel better now,” Wolfgang sided.

  “Great.” Billy beamed ear-to-ear, content with how matters were going. “Behind me is the living room.”

  Inside, the entire room was covered from top to bottom with outdated flower-imprinted wallpaper. Nothing flashy caught my eye, just an overstuffed, couch across the back wall and fabric-shade lamps situated on either end. Centred in the room was a scuffed coffee table on an oval rug. A lacquer vase of plastic flowers sat on an embroidered doily on the coffee table and wallet size picture frames surrounded the vase. This was a plain and simple home, a surprising difference from Billy’s millionaire taste.

  Not one to dwell on something for very long, Billy finished with the living room explanation and was heading with May upstairs. He was abandoning the rest of the group and focused on a private tour.

  “Shall we go to the bedrooms?” Billy whispered to May, barely audible.

  May giggled. “Oh, you.” She gently brushed a hand across the Billy’s chest.

  Trailing a bit behind the flirtatious couple, I climbed the stairs next with the less than enthusiastic Cadet and Wolfgang bringing up the rear.

  Happy to see a new part of the house, the second floor had a walnut-stained hardwood floor shined with a brilliant clean all the way down the long stretch of the hallway. A set of three doors lined both sides with a seventh door at the end of the hallway. Giselle put a lot of effort in this welcoming home. The hardwood floor creaked as we moved down the hallway.

  By the first door, Billy turned the doorknob and swung in the door. “Who wants this room?” He looked for any takers.

  Each one taking turns, we all peered from the doorway like homebuyers trying not to pry too much. The small room had a single platform bed with a square rug interlaced with the design of a large football player. The navy blue curtains twisted across a single window. A birch veneer mirror and chest draw added to the serenity of the traditional bedroom.

  “I’ll take this room,” May pepped up, impressed by the splendour of the bedroom.

  “This is more a guy’s room, I got a better room for you,” Billy advised slyly.

  Cadet advanced forward. “It’s good enough for me.”

  Needing little in life, Cadet spent years digging an underground tunnel and living in a tree. It was a move up to have such a modern accommodation.

  “It’s yours. If you need a change of clothes, the draws are full of good stuff. So help yourself. Somethink has to fit. A shower won’t hurt either.” Although Billy was showing his charity side, the comment could easily be misconstrued as rubbing the good life in Cadet’s face.

  “Thanks.” Wise and considerate, Cadet did not want to make waves and simply accepted Billy had to offer. Heading to the drawers, he shuffled out the sliding draws for a change of clothes. Cadet had that beaming grin like he was a child lost in a candy store—free to choose what he wanted to wear without needing to pay for it.

  Opposite Cadet’s assigned bedroom, we gathered by the second door.

  “And behind door number two.” Billy vibrated his tongue, drumming a solo for his next presentation. He kicked open the room to another fully furnished bedroom; an identical room to the previous one but with a childish touch. Something a six year old would enjoy with clouds painted on the ceiling and glow-in-the-dark stars on the walls. It also had bunk beds with cartoon covers—comfortable but a bit small for anyone over six feet in stature.

  May smiled, slanted his head towards Billy. “Was this your room?”

  Billy shrugged a shoulder to May. “Maybe? All I’m sayink it’s a special room. Wolfgang I’m lookink at you.”

  Wolfgang frowned. “I’m not insulted by your hospitality. Due to the dire circumstances beyond our control, I appreciate the crumbs tossed my way.” He bowed humbly as a dignitary in a foreign country would.

  “Duly noted Wolfie.” Billy accepted the gratitude.

  Vexed by the nickname, Wolfgang stood quiet, grateful for the sanctuary.

  Even May was not impressed but what could any one of us do? Billy had the resources, and at a time of need, beggars cannot be choosers.

  “Joel, here’s your room.” Billy sidestepped to the next-door over, adjacent to Cadet’s bedroom.

  Letting me do the honours, I turned the doorknob and walked in. Much like Cadet’s bedroom, there were two pieces of furniture, a framed single bed situated in the corner next to the window and an oak draw dresser incorporating a round mirror over it. The room was spotless and the touch of a lemon fragrance added to its cleanliness. Although mundane in appearance, it was better than what Wolfgang had with the bunk beds.

  “I’ll leave you to your room.” Billy turned around and with May continued down the hallway together. “By the way, the washroom’s at the end of the hallway. Towels are there too,” he shouted in the direction of Cadet’s room.

  Examining myself by the draw dresser mirror, a tired and sweaty person looked back. The weight of the world had me slouching forward. I opened the top draw to see a stack of neatly placed t-shirts of various sizes. I grabbed a long-sleeved t-shirt and tossed aside my dirty t-shirt. I donned a crimson red t-shirt with an oversized print of the number ten in the front. I felt like somebody important because I was wearing a garment belonging to Billy. It was a wonderful feeling to be someone different, to remove myself from the rut of my life.

  Viewing my low-level computer packaging job and my inability to sleep at night, there were no hand-me-downs given my way. I was never given the chance to do more. I had nothing else to show for. Some military scientists took advantage of me and handed me a handicap. Not a physical handicap but a mental one, immeasurable by science, uncontrollable by medicine. They affected all my actions, all my moods. I tensed up, disturbed by the train of thought. I wanted retribution and someone in this house needed to pay for it.

  Stepping out into the hallway, I was greeted by Wolfgang. He was leaning against the wall by my bedroom, arms crossed. He wore the same blazer and sagging pants he arrived in. “Not to impose but I’m thinking of having a nice talk with our special guest.”

  “Yeah, me too.” We were in the same boat, on the same page. We were moving in unison to fight the injustice.

  Overhearing the conversation, Cadet jumped out of his bedroom. “Finally, some sensible talk.” Taking advantage of the complimentary clothes, he went from rags to riches. He sported a new style with the crispy blue jeans and an olive colour short-sleeved dress shirt.

  “Lookink good,” Billy shouted from the end of the hallway.

  May giggled. “Woohoo, Cadet,” she bellowed her jubilation.

  Cadet wiped his hands across his chest, impressed by his new threads. “I’m ready to take care of some business.” He reached back and closed his bedroom door.

  Billy strolled over. “What are you guys talkink about?”

  I looked over at Wolfgang. “We need to talk to Tamme.”

  “I need to know more about the experiment,” Wolfgang replied. “When someone controls how we are to react and respond, then we all suffer.”

  “We have to take action and expose what we know about the Ameliorate project.” May begged for a consensus
within the group. “We can use my contacts at the Daily Toronto and publish an article on the Internet.”

  “How about we beat the crap out of Tamme and then publish the stuff he spills out.” Billy had an alternative mode to extract information.

  “How much better are we if we do the same to them?” May posed, expecting us to control ourselves through reason and logic. “That makes us just as guilty.”

  “I’ll show compassion,” Billy sarcastically retorted, descending the stairs. “Tamme, Tamme, here I come,” he sang indiscreetly.

  Eager to see what Billy would do, we pursued him down the stairs to the main level. Then passing the garage door and the stacked washing machines, we went down a second set of stairs to the cold basement. We passed through a spacious room with a support column planted in the middle of the room. Framed pictures of happy malnourished teens decorated the walls in a mosaic pattern. Some pictures had letters and Thank You cards attached to them expressing gratitude to Bruno and Giselle for supporting them through difficult times.

  Rightfully so for a treatment centre, the nippy basement incorporated a larger room with a collection of futons and recliners and sectional sofas lined up against the walls. The placement of the seats gave off a feeling of a retreat area set up for group discussions and spiritual building exercises. The far left corner had various sized pillows stacked in a neat pile all the way to the ceiling. A tiny enclosed side room obstructed the far right corner, which probably housed the furnace or washroom.

  Wrapped partially by some blankets, Tamme laid on the floor right up against the right basement wall. He lay on his side and looked to be unconscious or asleep. Duct tape was used on his wrists and ankles to secure him and thus prevent him from fighting back, or worse, escaping.

  The toilet flushed and Bruno stepped out of the washroom. “Hello.”

  “How’s our little guest doink?” Billy asked.

  Bruno wiped his hands on his ghastly black pants. “Nothing much. He hasn’t moved or said a word since I put him there.”

  “Time to wakie-wakie sleepie-head,” Billy chanted.

  May grabbed Billy’s shoulder and spun him around to face her. “Promise me you won’t hurt him.” She was genuinely concerned. “I’m interested in making a difference but not at any cost.”

  “May, these guys are trained by the military not to reveal anythink despite what happens to them. He needs to understand we mean business and needs to start namink names and anythink else we demand of him.” Billy did mean business and was in this for the long haul.

  Opposed to anyone who stood in his way, I had no reason to doubt that Billy was willing to torture the old man. He did what needed to be done. Paradoxically, he was no song and dance type.

  “Lift him up,” Billy dictated Cadet what to do.

  Nodding first, Cadet then stepped towards Tamme and reached under both arms to sit him up. We watched on like a gang of kids watching a bully pick on a helpless child, no one would stop it. The incapacitated human trophy mesmerized us. A trophy not like a stuffed animal displayed to be admired by its placement on the wall but like an injured one sure to die while on its last wheel. Tamme’s head dropped forward like a drunk passed out from a long night of binge drinking. Thick drool seeped from the side of his mouth.

  “What did you guys do to him?” May asked scared by what she saw.

  “He’ll be fine May. He’s a little groggy from the long road trip,” Cadet patronized with a simple explanation. “Wake up,” he ordered.

  “Wha … wha me no. Huh?” Tamme garbed, seeking some direction to where he was.

  “Make sense,” Cadet barked out, impatient with the old man. “Do you know where you are?”

  Drooped eyed, Tamme gently swayed side-to-side. He raised his hands to try to feel his head. Seeing his bound wrists, he tensed up and began trembling.

  “Is he dying?” May feared.

  “He’s not dying.” Cadet grew irritated by May’s sympathy.

  “You want us to get violent?” Billy shouted over Cadet.

  Regaining his composure, Tamme’s eyes focused in on Billy. “I understand that you’ve suffered. I feel sorry for you.”

  “Sorry for me? When I’m done with you, you’ll be the sorry one,” Billy argued back.

  Tamme sighed. “There’s so much anger built up that you seek retribution. The pain must be overwhelming and difficult to control. That’s why I feel your sorrow. I only wish you can understand that I do feel your pain.”

  Cadet turned to face Billy. “He’s trying to sympathize with our cause. It’s a military tactic taught to soldiers who are captured by the enemy and tortured,” he enlightened, almost justifying the need to inflict harm.

  “So he’s lyink already!” Billy grimaced in frustration.

  Excusing herself, May nudged me to the other end of the room next to the stairwell. She then waved over Wolfgang, Bruno, Billy and Cadet as if wanting to discuss an idea away from Tamme. Together, we huddled in a circle.

  “How about we change our strategy of the interrogation and play good-cop-bad-cop?” May proposed an intelligent psychological test.

  “Are you talkink dirty to me?” Billy managed to divert the seriousness of the situation with a joke.

  May tapped Billy on the shoulder. “Please be serious.” She furrowed her eyebrows.

  Wolfgang agreed with a nod. “Now’s not the time to kid. This may sound corny but we can try reverse psychology and try to trap him.”

  Cadet cleared his throat. “Let me explain a police tactic we should adopt in this situation. Whenever a criminal starts talking, never interrupt even if you disagree with him. Chances are he may unknowingly reveal crucial information.”

  Billy slammed a fist into an open palm. “How about we let my fists do the talkink?”

  “Let’s be civil here. We need to agree on a civil course of action.” May sought a more rational approach.

  “Then you lead,” Billy proposed.

  “I don’t care how we do it as long as we get answers,” Cadet spoke up, open to using torture by the sounds of it.

  Reasoning that that this feuding amongst us was a direct result of the project, my blood began to boil. I felt like an emotional bubble burst inside of me, opening a pocket of anguish mixed with furious rage. It felt like I was turned inside out, no longer human but mechanical in nature. The scientists made this happen. They provoked us to lose control of our lives. They were responsible for our pain and our failures. Tamme was a scientist and must pay for experimenting on defenceless children. No more secrets and lies. Billy was right; pain was the master. I turned around to face the irresponsible scientist. Curled against the wall, he was a diabolical force held back with lots of duct tape. He was not going anywhere.

  48

  Weary of the group discussion, I abandoned the group and walked over to Tamme. I stood over to the prisoner looking down at the chained animal, held down from escaping with duct tape, incapable from causing any more harm. Helpless. He was vulnerable like me during my childhood.

  “I can’t sleep at night. How do I stop these nightmares?” I boiled with rage.

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying about the nightmares. The project ended eleven years ago,” Tamme recollected. “As the TV show was cancelled, the symptoms gradually dissipated within five years.”

  “The nightmares don’t stop. I can’t focus during the day because I can’t sleep at night. Don’t you understand that you’ve ruined my life!” Why was the old man being so difficult? “Two months ago, I witnessed a young lady get killed by a car and because of the nightmares everything is a blur to me.”

  Tamme looked amazed by my revelation. “There is only one exception to the project. Miriam—”

  “Joel,” Cadet interrupted and gave me a look to back off, “don’t tell him anything.”

  I ignored Cadet. “I need to know how to stop these nightmares from happening.”

  Wolfgang walked over and pulled me aside. “Joel, please list
en to us. We have to work together and plan this out. This monster has affected all of us in more ways than one,” he whispered annoyed by my disobedience.

  As if unbalanced I felt like ripping my hair out. “I just want to bash his head in. I’m so pissed off right now.”

  “Let Joel have his way with the prisoner,” Billy offered freely. “The old man deserves it. As long as he doesn’t kill him, it might help him release years of frustration. Right Bruno?”

  Seeing things were getting out of control, Bruno threw his hands in the air. “I don’t want any part in this. If Giselle finds out what’s going on down here, she’ll kill us both.” He walked upstairs, shaking his head for being pulled into the hostage ploy.

  “We need to keep our voices down,” Cadet signalled Wolfgang and Billy over to the stairwell to be as far away from Tamme and prevent him from overhearing anything. “May, please watch Joel for a sec.”

  “Okay.” Then May turned to me. “Joel, he’s not worth it. Two wrongs don’t make a right.”

  “I don’t want to seem rude but I don’t think you or anybody else understands my situation.” I pointed around the room to signal all the people in my life who have suffered because of what the military did to me. “You guys have a normal life to return too but not me. I can’t escape the haunting nightmares. I want it to end but it just keeps coming back. These people did something to me, to all of us, that wasn’t fair. Why us, why me? I want to be free of this garbage. And right now, I feel like hurting somebody, something. I want to punish them for what they did to me. They started it and I want to finish it.”

  Letting loose, I felt I was transcending the boundaries of my body, free from any physical limitations. “May, if you only understand how fuming mad I am right now. These are scientists paid from our taxes to protect us. Instead, they backstabbed us for a ridiculous project. They treated our lives like a game, and in the end, we are the losers.” I rolled up my sleeves and exposed by forearms. “Do you see these marks on my wrist? Do you know what they’re from?”