The Birth of Dystopia

by A. Q. Moser

  “I can explain better by showing the insides of a computer,” I assured.

  “Giselle said no TVs are allowed in the house,” May recounted a house rule.

  “Wait a second, the SUV has two of them,” I recalled, pointing to the garage.

  “Yes, of course,” Wolfgang remembered too.

  “Hold your horses.” May sat up, indicating for us to remain seated. “Before we do anything, I want to know whether Billy is with us or against us.”

  “There are six people here,” Billy counted. “So this can’t be all a coincidence?” He slammed a heavy fist on the kitchen table as if fed up with the progress of the conversation.

  We all flinched to Billy’s aggressive reaction. It was nerve-racking to wait on him. Did he believe all that had transpired?

  “Like our first dream where there were six people at the lamppost. We continue our fight,” Billy reclaimed our objective. “United.”

  How a simple word like united meant signified so much more. With the group amalgamated, the fight was back on.

  “Our first dream had five people under the lamppost and a sixth person as the source of light. Who do you think that sixth person is?” Billy posed.

  “Maybe you’re our light?” May tried to soften Billy up with a nice compliment.

  Entranced by the possibility, Billy produced a proud smile. We were a team of six, banded together and eager to do battle as a united front. But first we needed to see if my proposed hunch was right.

  Calmly, I headed out to the garage and everyone followed careful not to disturb Giselle from her sleep. The side door of the silver SUV was unlocked and the back of the leather headrests were housed two state-of-the-art three-D TV monitors, recent models no more than a year old.

  “TV on,” Billy summoned.

  On the coloured three-dimensional monitor, images of a musical danced off the pristine screen. An advanced television that generated a three-dimensional image equal if not better than its real counterpart. Three coloured cables ran down from the bottom of the screen into the driver’s seat and connecting to a black box computer situated under the seat. The black box housed most of the electronics in it.

  “We need to get this open to access the central processor,” I ordered with the demeanour of an experienced demolition worker.

  Without unplugging it first, Billy pried the black box open and yanked out the motherboard, putting an end to the images. “This must be the CPU.”

  “Technically, that’s not the CPU.” I pointed to the black cube in the centre of the motherboard. “This microchip is encased in a heat-reduction porous carbon alloy. The differences in alloy density help keep it from overheating while still dissipating the heat.” I spoke with the regained elegance of a techie talking in laymen’s terms.

  “Whatever, let’s cut off the alloy and compare this chip to Wolfgang’s,” Billy proposed.

  Next to the SUV, Cadet retrieved a wood chisel and Mill file from the workbench. Billy snapped off the black cube and handed it over. Cadet wedged the black cube on a bench clamp to secure it from moving around. Applying tiny scrapes from the chisel, the delicate handiwork required was apparent in how he held the tools. His experience gained from years chipping at stone to construct a tunnel. We lingered over Cadet’s shoulder, watching him continue the trimming process.

  “Joel, so you’re saying that the technology of the chip used on us twenty years ago is being mass-produced?” Aerial proposed, starting to catch on.

  Skeptical in part, I shared mixed emotions. My confidence deflated and I shrugged in response, doubting my own initiative.

  “Let’s just hope you’re wrong,” Aerial remarked with an anxious reservation.

  Peeling each alloy layer off, the black cube, Cadet exposed a metallic silver shine and sparkling golden spots. Finishing the fine filing with the Mill file, an imprinted marking on the microchip listed the numbers two nine eight eight. Cadet removed the microchip from the bench clamp and wiped off the alloy residue. Wolfgang held up his precious remnant of the older microchip next to the one Cadet held. The obvious similarity was the common protrusion sticking out and the round nature of both microchips.

  “Almost identical with Wolfgang’s except the different colour and the additional serial numberink on this,” Billy confirmed what we all saw.

  “I was right.” Impressed, I pumped a fist in the air.

  “The military has been making money off this technology!” May shrieked. “It hurts to see a corporation taking advantage of the populous for profits. We were lambs to be sacrificed.”

  I was right but it was not a good thing to be right especially we were on the receiving end. The reality remained as a distressing technology was developed and tested on us and then unleashed to the masses for the sake of profit. What a truly evil scheme. It was so unfair to be made to suffer nightmares and insomnia in exchange for riches. Because of them, I nearly ended my life.

  “This makes sense now. I hear it all the time people saying they have the déjà vu dreams like going to work in their pyjamas or freezing up during a speech or people laughing at them.” Wolfgang sought a plausible explanation. “These are all subliminal messages meant to control the people.”

  “We need to take matters into our own hands,” Billy concluded with his proactive reprisal.

  “How about we install the Wolfgang’s microchip in the computer and see if the TV works?” I proposed.

  Wolfgang had a look of dread, perhaps thinking to his deceased father. “What happens if it overheats and melts?”

  “It should be fine for a little while,” I stated.

  “We can’t afford to mess this up,” Wolfgang pleaded while holding on to his sagging pants.

  “We need to find out,” Cadet said.

  “I don’t want to do this,” Wolfgang asserted.

  “This could be it. All the answers we need are here in our hands,” I said.

  “Please Wolfgang,” May begged.

  “I believe this could be it,” Aerial added creditability.

  Wolfgang took a few steps back and looked at the ceiling. His lips were moving yet no words came out. He gave a good stare at all of us, as we stood empty-handed. “Look at me.” His lips quivered in frustration. “If this is it, then let’s get May’s article circulating for the public to read.”

  “Why not test the chip?” Cadet said, expecting a scientist to understand the proof-of-concept method.

  “Yeah, but let’s get someone more experienced to do this so nothing goes wrong. This is our smoking gun,” Wolfgang pleaded, expecting a guarantee that absolutely nothing would go wrong.

  “My job is to assemble and test computers. I do this on a routine basis at work. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.” I offered Wolfgang my hand in search of a trusting accordance.

  With trembling hands, Wolfgang rubbed his eyes as he thought of what to do. “Who’s to say we obtain any useful information from plugging the chip in?”

  Reserved about the precious items, I was surprised to hear the word we from Wolfgang. He guarded the microchip as if it was his lifeline. He paid a hefty price to have it here today with us.

  “We have to try,” May implored. “This could be big if it works.”

  “Let’s think this through. If we get nothing, it doesn’t mean the microchip is useless. It could mean we did something wrong.” In some sense, I eluded to a back door should things not work out. “The microchip will always be there as evidence. Let’s just try to get more out of it. It’s like a lemon if you just squeeze it harder you’ll get more juice.”

  “Fair enough,” Wolfgang submitted and handed over the precious microchip to me.

  As careful as I could be, I fidgeted with the microchip until it clipped onto the motherboard where the original microchip was. I snapped the motherboard back into the computer under the seat. Excluding an anxious Wolfgang, we all crowded around the monitor embedded in the backseat of the SUV.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll be alright.
” May comforted Wolfgang with a big hug.

  “I’ll watch from back here in case it burns out.” As if his presence would will ill, Wolfgang remained back from the display.

  Considering what the precious object meant to Wolfgang there was an obvious apprehensive sentiment towards what could happen to the microchip. But then again, there was so much to gain from exploring this avenue.

  “Replace one new chip with an old chip and hope for the best.” Holding a fist to his mouth, Billy commentated like he was in possession of a microphone.

  “If this works this could give enough evidence to go after them.” May was optimistically hopeful.

  “TV on,” Billy called out.

  Yielding to the random fuzziness and flickering, the image steadied and we saw a noisy two-dimensional transmission of dancing images, a documentary of locals partaking in a town feast. This is not what I expected but then again I was not sure what to expect.

  “What’s this?” May scrutinized the images.

  “It’s not workink,” Billy dismissed.

  “No, it’s working. The microchip works,” I commented surprised, yet pumped.

  “What? The picture is terrible,” Aerial remarked.

  “If the microchip was not real, then we would see a blank screen. The image, although fuzzy, proves it is real.” I crossed my fingers hoping everyone would understand.

  Their eyes widened and jaws dropped as a collective hand wave flowed through a packed stadium for a football game. The military transmitted a subliminal message through a children’s television show through that microchip. As rescued miners exiting their caved in shaft for the first time, there was the revelation of being a survivor. It was a difficult feeling to accept but we came so far and now had the power shift was in our favour.

  “We got it,” Cadet proclaimed with excitement.

  “It’s all true.” I accepted, despite years of doubt and self-blame.

  “TV off,” Wolfgang directed in a shaky voice. “Joel, please remove my chip.”

  Overwhelmed by the task to not damage the microchip and not frighten Wolfgang any further, I carefully popped out the motherboard and removed the warm microchip. I handed the precious microchip back to its rightful owner. Since the protective alloy was removed from the older microchip, there was no point to put it back into the computer. So I left the motherboard out on the floor of the SUV.

  “It’s corporate. They sold the chip to TV vendors and made money off our misery. We can fight them in court with this.” May publicized. She was ready for battle and was thinking big. “Let’s have a news conference and expose it out for all to see.”

  “Yes, we can beat them at their own game,” Aerial agreed.

  “Actually I got a better idea,” Billy remarked with resent. “We use our secret weapon downstairs.”

  “Secret weapon downstairs?” Unsure what Billy was talking about, Aerial sought an explanation.

  “We have a special person downstairs, our little security blanket.” Cadet smirked. “We used him to make our escape from the military base.”

  “Pardon me!” Aerial had a scared look on her face.

  “Actually,” Billy raised his hand in front of Wolfgang to hold back the discussion, “speakink of a military base, I want to clear up the air here. Where were you yesterday?”

  “You were at the same place I was?” Aerial’s eyes shifted as if caught off guard by the question.

  “Ah, so you admit it,” Billy proclaimed loudly.

  “I admit it. I was there at the base. I wasn’t trying to hide it. I was helping the espionage program as a remote viewer,” Aerial disclosed.

  “Why were you helping them?” Wolfgang challenged.

  “Remember I worked for the military too,” Cadet reiterated, putting him and Aerial on the same front.

  Aerial brushed Cadet’s valiant effort aside. “Although the military was paying me as a psychic consultant, I wanted to explore more about what they did to me,” she explained a personal objective. “I was gathering information and trying to take them down from the inside. A Benedict’s Arnold as you may say.”

  “And why didn’t you tell us this before?” Billy furrowed his eyebrows.

  May placed a hand over Billy’s mouth. “And what have you uncovered?” she asked appropriately as any curious journalist would.

  “I’ve learnt a few things,” Aerial introduced excited to divulge the information. “I already told you that the subliminal messages were delivered through a TV show Tank Rider. But I know more about the beginning of the military project. The mental experiments were directed to straighten soldiers’ nerves and have them think clearly during stressful moments commonly encountered during combat. Instead, the adult soldiers developed a host of over-aggressive, easily-addictive habits with many childlike attitudes. And this covered both genders. Believing they were still on some major breakthrough, they continued the project under the pretense that if it produced children out of adult subjects then maybe the reverse would happen to children. You know the saying get them while they’re young. Hence our involvement.”

  The more details I heard about the project, the more my blood boiled. The use of children for experimental purposes was beyond cruel punishment. Sleep to a child was like a playground; take it away and the child was left with a void.

  “In every bad situation, there was some good. There was an unexplainable occurrence among the subjects. Some of the subliminal messages invoked a different variety of dreams—the kind that seemed supernatural. We received the same subliminal messages and so we dreamt the same dreams. However, in some cases unique dreams were had. It is through a crisis that we change and improve for the better.” Aerial smiled, expecting me to believe her.

  “You don’t understand. The project inflicted too much psychological pain. It was a miracle I survived this long,” I explained.

  “The only good to come out of this is the beating we inflict on them.” Billy smacked a fist on an open palm.

  “Violence is not the answer. Exposing the project is. We need to hold accountable the people responsible for this,” May rationalized with reason.

  “Please explain to me who is downstairs?” Aerial looked to Wolfgang for clarification.

  “We kidnapped a military scientist from the base.” Cadet put it simply.

  “You kidnapped a military personnel!” Aerial shouted in disbelief, horrified by the ludicrous action.

  Wolfgang nodded. “The moment dictated the reaction.”

  Aerial ran her hands through her neat hair. “Please let me see him.”

  57

  Having an urgent need to meet the hostage Tamme, Cadet led Aerial of the kitchen and down the stairs to the basement. Following closely behind Aerial was May, me, Wolfgang and Billy. The cold basement was lit with a single lamp in the opposite end of the stairwell. The house resident Bruno was stretched out on a recliner and was being kept warm by a fleece blanket. Instead of guarding the old man, his were eyes closed and he was snoring up a storm. On the floor next to him, lay the address e-book Wolfgang and Billy nicked from Aerial’s shop during a reconnaissance excursion.

  May picked up the address e-book and returned it to Aerial. “This is yours. They stole it,” she spoke softly, trying not to wake up Bruno.

  Aerial smiled, realizing her trickery worked. “Like I said there’s really nothing on it. I left it out so you’d think you stole something of value without destroying my place.” She tossed it back to the spot where May picked it up.

  Billy shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Ensconced within the protection of a makeshift fort built from ragged blankets, Tamme hid in the corner of the back room. An alert eye peeked out of the fort, examining his dozing guard Bruno and our arrival.

  Aerial discarded the blankets to get a clear look at the old man. “I know this guy from my dream.” She stepped back as if having seen a ghost.

  Fearing she would tip over, Cadet caught Aerial by her shoulders. “What nightmare are yo
u talking about?”

  Aerial was frozen, stuck in deep thought. “I need … I need to remember.”

  “What is it?” May tensed up.

  “The old man did say he knows you,” I expected the comment would jog Aerial’s memory.

  “No, I never met this man. But I know him from a dream. An old dream. One I had at nineteen,” Aerial recognized. “It’s on the tip of my tongue.” She fluttered her hands in the air for how close she was to recalling what she needed.

  “Please remember Aerial,” Cadet implored.

  “I had a dream with him in it.” Aerial bit into her fist as she tried to summon up the dream. “I’m trying to make sense of it. He was selling animal fur or leg hold traps.” She closed her eyes and was shaking her head. “Something about a metallic thing or something like that.”

  “Metallic object!” May’s voice pitched high, making the connection to the microchip Wolfgang’s father had uncovered.

  Bruno awoke and rubbed his eyes. “Hrmm?” he grunted and stretched out.

  “Sorry.” May bore a guilty look for talking too loud.

  “That’s ok.” Bruno rose to his feet and wobbled over to the washroom.

  “It’s sometimes difficult to interpret some dreams,” Aerial excused her clairvoyance. “He’s bugged,” she announced.

  “What? No way, I searched him back at the forest,” Cadet recalled the pat down in the station wagon.

  Pretending or just confused, Tamme seemed taken aback by the words too. Abnormally calm, he collapsed into a fetal position. Aerial approached Tamme and reached for his left arm. The old man struggled to hide his arm despite the mounds of duct tape used to bind him. For someone with nothing to hide he was certainly acting uncooperative. Cadet reached in with two hands and seized the left arm. He held it tight almost intending to hurt the old man. Aerial felt across the wrinkled skin of the old man’s arm as if she were delivering a deep tissue massage. She stopped at a wrinkled bulge on the inside arm between his elbow and the forearm. Digging her nails into his arm, she circled the bulge with her thumbnails revealing a particular blister that seemed rather artificial.