Jack walked towards the Octagon. He moved slowly.
“Are you God?” he asked.
There was no answer.
“How did I die?” Jack said. “I want to know that one thing first.”
“It doesn’t matter,” the Snowman said. “There’s no point in looking back anymore. What’s done is done.”
But Jack shook his head. “It matters to me,” he said.
The Snowman reached his floating arms out further. It was a desperate, pleading gesture.
“Everything will be revealed Jack,” he said.
Jack glanced over his shoulder. He half-expected to see the shooter standing at his back, the AR-15 pointing towards the Octagon. But there was nothing there.
“Are you ready Jack?” the Snowman said.
Jack took one last look at the town, wishing that he had more time on his hands. If he did, he’d rummage around in the old familiar places for a while. Eat one last slice of cherry cake in Hudson’s. He’d sit with his parents and maybe grab a cold beer in the tavern and talk to them, not like a teenager talking to parents but like friends talking to friends. Normal talk. It was something he’d always expected to do with them when he was older. Why do kids always leave it so long to cherish their parents?
More than anything, he wanted to sit with Donna on the Octagon bench and watch the world go by. He’d miss that.
“Jack,” the Snowman said. “Come here.”
Jack walked towards the light.
The Snowman got bigger, puffing out with anticipation as Jack got closer.
When he was a few feet away, Jack stopped again.
“I just want to know how I died,” he said. “Don’t I have the right to know? I don’t remember anything about it and it’s eating away at me. Tell me, please. I was a seventeen-year-old kid – I was healthy, I had a future. What happened?”
The Snowman groaned.
Jack tilted his head in confusion.
“Tell me what happened,” he said.
“Jack…”
“Tell me!”
“Oh for Christ’s sake!” the Snowman snapped. “Will you just fucking move kid? Get over here!”
Jack froze. For a second, he was as motionless as everyone else in Alexandra Falls. He stared at the Snowman in disbelief.
Whatever this thing floating in the Octagon was, it was anything but divine.
Jack took a tentative step backwards.
“What’s going on?” he said. “Who are you?”
Silence.
“I said who are you?” Jack yelled. “I’m not dead, am I? I’m still alive for God’s sake!”
His head swirled in confusion.
“Jack,” said the Snowman. The voice was calm once again and if Jack wasn’t mistaken, tinged with regret. “I’m sorry…”
“Get out of here,” Jack said.
“Come to the light,” the Snowman said. He was begging now. “Please Jack. Everything will be…”
“I was wrong about you,” Jack said. “Well, actually I was right first time when I ran away. I don’t know what you are. You sure as hell aren’t God.”
He turned around and ran back towards the car.
“Jack,” the Snowman called out. “Where are you going?”
“Far away from you!”
Jack hopped into the car and started her up. He didn’t even look at the Snowman as he spun the Civic around and drove off west along Main Street. He pushed the pedal to the floor. Jack groaned with frustration as he weaved in and out of the stationary cars on the road. He was driving too fast but he didn’t want to slow down, not until he’d put at least a hundred miles between himself and the Octagon.
The Civic reached the foot of the hill that led up towards the school. Jack wasn’t going back that way, not this time. As he drove past however, he looked to his right and saw the shooter descending, approaching Main Street at a slow pace. As the car raced past, Jack heard the rat-a-tat of the rifle firing in his direction. But the Civic was going too fast and the bullets never found their target.
“Kiss my ass!” Jack yelled. “You fucking freak!”
The car roared through the outskirts of town and a few minutes later came upon a winding, snake-like road that led out of Alexandra Falls.
Jack saw the sign up ahead:
Thanks For Stopping By in Alexandra Falls
See You Next Time!
“Ha-ha!” Jack said, stabbing a finger at the sign. “See you much later you piece of…”
The Civic crashed into something hard. There was an unbearable crunching noise, so close and loud that it felt like it was inside Jack’s head. His senses were immediately scrambled. He was thrown forward in the seat with tremendous force, his head slamming into the steering wheel.
Blackness took over, sweeping through his mind.
Jack fell backwards into the driver’s seat. He couldn’t feel anything – there was no pain, nothing. He couldn’t move but there was still time for one last thought before he lapsed into unconsciousness.
There’s no way out. I’m trapped.
Part II
Chapter 9
March 25th
The Grenham Institute, San Francisco.
Kim Franklin, 36 years old, is a roving reporter for News America – one of the biggest news outlets in the country. Today Franklin is standing outside the Grenham Institute, an experimental scientific organization housed within an old courthouse building in downtown San Francisco.
Franklin, a tall, red-haired woman, is dressed in a stylish black suit. She smiles at the camera as the report goes live.
KIM FRANKLIN: Good morning everyone. Welcome to San Francisco on this historic occasion – a day we hope that future generations of Americans will remember as the moment we finally sowed the seeds of peace in our troubled nation. Here at the Grenham Institute, controversial scientist and visionary Michael Donner is rolling out his long-awaited masterpiece. And we at News America are very excited to be here on launch day to witness it.
The camera zooms out to reveal a bespectacled, middle-aged man in his mid-fifties standing beside Franklin. He’s scruffily dressed in a crumpled gray suit with a pale blue shirt that’s barely tucked in at the waist.
KIM FRANKLIN: Speaking of excitement, it’s also a thrill to be standing beside the man of the moment – the chief architect of the RELIVE program, Mr Michael Donner. Michael, thank you for taking the time to talk to us this morning.
MICHAEL DONNER: (Nods) My pleasure.
KIM FRANKLIN: So we’re here at the Grenham Institute, which since news of RELIVE first broke, has been nicknamed the Alcatraz of the twenty-first century. Michael, for those who haven’t been following this story, can you explain what’s happening today?
MICHAEL DONNER: I’d be delighted to Kim. Well, RELIVE is a program that’s been in the works for a long time. Like many people, I was shocked and horrified by the dramatic increase in gun violence in this country, particularly that which we’ve been experiencing in American schools for the past thirty years or so. RELIVE was born out of a need to address this problem. I quickly realized that there’s no deterrent for violent crime in this country or anywhere else in the world. Prison and even the death sentence don’t cut it anymore. I believe that what’s required to control this epidemic is an effective form of punishment – one that will appease both sides of the gun control argument. We need a true deterrent, not just for violence in schools, but everywhere.
KIM FRANKLIN: And in a nutshell, what is RELIVE?
MICHAEL DONNER: RELIVE is a groundbreaking method of virtual reality captivity. It’s essentially a mind-prison in which the prisoner relives a simulated version of his or her victim’s last day on Earth. The criminal will experience everything that happened up to and including the violent act that robbed the victim of their life. In this simulation therefore, the criminal has their own crime thrown back at them. Only they have to experience it not just one time, but every day for the rest of their lives.
K
IM FRANKLIN: It’s almost like karma isn’t? Twenty-first century style karma.
MICHAEL DONNER: Yes, exactly. And it’s true that this is a modern Alcatraz – in fact it’s better. Not only will there be no escapes, there won’t be any escape attempts either. I believe Kim, that this is the future of the justice system. If today goes as well as I think it will, we’re going to put thousands of murderers into the RELIVE program and over the next five years, I guarantee we’ll see a massive decline in violent crime statistics. Everybody will be too afraid of the consequences to do anything.
KIM FRANKLIN: I can see you’re very excited.
MICHAEL DONNER: (Laughing) Oh very much so. I can’t wait to get started.
KIM FRANKLIN: Of course, not everybody’s as excited as you are. As you can see, a small group of protestors have gathered outside the building this morning. They’re a small minority, trying to make their voices heard. Some say that RELIVE is excessively cruel and that it’s a sadistic form of punishment that has abandoned all hope of rehabilitation. Others suggest that it’s been brought in specifically to distract from the ongoing debate about gun control. Others say we’re going too far with the technology. On a less emotional level however, some people say it’s happening too fast – that there haven’t been enough trials and that RELIVE has been rushed through to completion.
MICHAEL DONNER: (Shaking his head) There have been hundreds and hundreds of trials Kim. And I can honestly report no problems whatsoever. We’re ready for this. More than ready. This is a great day for justice, for karma, and for the United States.
KIM FRANKLIN: Well it’s almost time to get this thing rolling. We’d better let you get back to work Michael.
Franklin turns back to the camera.
KIM FRANKLIN: What do you say? Shall we go inside and check it out?
Chapter 10
“The program will commence in five minutes,” said a man’s voice through the loudspeaker.
A round of applause greeted the announcement.
In the heart of the old courthouse, two upper floor galleries encircled the main hall of the Grenham Institute. The original wooden benches in the downstairs area had been replaced with a modern, theater-like seating structure. This not only looked more inviting, but it allowed for more people to fit inside the building. There was a small stage in the center of the room –it was essentially a raised platform, no bigger than eight feet in width, and one that all eyes in the room were currently fixed upon.
There was a chair on the stage.
At first glance, it resembled a high-tech, futuristic version of ‘Old Sparky’ – the nickname given to the majority of electric chairs that had executed thousands of people in the United States since 1890. The shape of the chair was similar to ‘Old Sparky’ but instead of the traditional wood finish this version was a gleaming silvery chrome. A plethora of bright, flashing display panels ran along both arms. To the casual eye, the chair looked out of place in such a historic old building. It could easily have been stolen from the deck of the Starship Enterprise.
There was a young man strapped into the chair.
He was sleeping or heavily sedated. His head was tilted back, chin pointing up in the air. Only the steady rise and fall of his chest gave off signs of life. His white blond hair was a mass of disheveled curls and its paleness, combined with the young man’s chalky skin, gave him a frail and sickly appearance. There was a strange topless metal cap on his head with flashing lights on the visor. A pair of goggles was fastened over the eyes.
“Three minutes,” said the man over the loudspeaker.
This was met by more applause.
There were high-definition TVs on the walls of the main hall. All the screens showed a close up of the boy’s ghost-like features. His narrow pink lips were twitching, which made it look like he was dreaming.
The hall was full of people. There wasn’t a spare seat to be found. Some were chatting amongst themselves while others filmed the build up on their phones, trying to capture the anticipation and share it online. A few took selfies while they still had the chance, making sure that the boy featured in the background.
A door opened at the back of the room.
There was an onslaught of whistling and cheering sounds in the crowd.
Michael Donner, the brains behind RELIVE, entered the main hall. A small group of people trailed behind him like they were Donner’s celebrity entourage. Most of his followers, both men and women, were dressed in suits although two of the younger staff members wore long white lab coats over their shirts and ties. As Donner stepped onto the stage beside the chair, the other suits took their places in the front row. The two people wearing lab coats immediately set to work, plugging things into the arm of the chair, taking measurements and jotting down notes.
Donner waved to the crowd. When it seemed like the applause would never stop, he signaled with both hands for the audience to pipe down.
It took another twenty seconds before the hall was silent.
Donner cleared his throat.
“On January 16th of this year,” he said, “a seventeen-year-old boy going by the name of Vince Kutter shot and killed fourteen people in Alexandra Falls High School. This was the worst disaster to ever hit that beautiful, sleepy Oregon town, known for its charming buildings and friendly residents. Well fortunately for us, this killer was too dumb or cowardly to blow his brains out. Or maybe he wanted to live, knowing that he was under eighteen and unlikely to receive the death penalty.”
Donner looked at the boy strapped to the chair.
“That was a big mistake Kutter,” he said. “You should have blown your brains out while you had the chance.”
This was greeted by a massive round of applause inside the hall. It came from both the people in the seats and those standing in the galleries.
“Justice,” Donner said, raising his voice so that it was heard above the cheering crowd.
“Justice has returned to the United States. As you know ladies and gentlemen, RELIVE is a virtual reality simulation in which Kutter will spend the rest of his life paying for his heinous crimes against the innocent. He’ll experience a punishment fitting of the crime. Vince Kutter – that murdering bastard in the chair – will relive the last day in the lives of each one of his fourteen victims and he’ll do that over and over again until his dying day. Fourteen simulations in twenty-four hours. He’ll experience the world through the eyes of the victim, minute-by-minute, hour-by-hour, all of it leading up to the shooting at the school. He’ll feel their hopes, fears, loves and passions. We’ve got all the data on the fourteen kids he killed and I guarantee you this – Kutter will experience their subjective reality as authentically as possible. Best of all, he’s going to feel their loss when he gets shot. As he lies dying on the corridor floor, having been shot by a simulated version of himself, he’s going to feel joy thwarted, the agony of broken dreams, despair and terror in his heart as the lights go out in his mind.”
Another round of applause. Donner circled the chair like a predator stalking its prey.
“This is day one of Vince Kutter’s punishment,” he said. “He’s got a long way to go and I promise you we’ll keep him alive for as long as we can. No parole. No release. Fourteen simulations – that’s all he’s got to look forward to from now on. When he’s not in the chair he’ll be exercised and provided with basic sustenance and six hours of sleep. Just enough to keep him ticking over.”
Donner stood over the boy. There was a look of genuine disgust in his eyes.
“Kutter is the first of many,” he said. “With the government’s assistance of course, you – the public – can count on RELIVE to clean up the plague of violence that wants to destroy this country. So if you’re a criminal watching this, listen up good bucko. No matter what harm you bestow upon innocent people, know this – RELIVE is your future. You’ll experience the pain you cause and you’ll feel it for the rest of your life. Want some of that? No, I didn’t think so.”
The cro
wd got to their feet and gave Donner a standing ovation. It was yet another rapturous show of appreciation and it was about a minute before he was able to resume his speech.
“We’ll begin in a few minutes,” he said. “You’ll see the simulation enacted out on the big screens and for those who couldn’t be here today, you can watch the live stream on our website, free of charge for the next twenty-four hours. Not all the victims’ family members are in attendance today ladies and gentlemen. Some, quite understandably, don’t want to watch but I hope they’ll at least take comfort in the knowledge that Kutter is going to suffer for what he did to their children.”
Donner pointed to the chair.
“Jack Murray was a standup kid. He was a hero in the making. He was a clean-cut, good-looking boy with the whole damn world at his feet. His future was stolen from him. Kutter killed Jack first because he hated him. He loathed Jack and everything he stood for. You can read all about it in the diaries taken from Kutter’s bedroom. Well we’ve got Jack’s personality traits ready to go right here; we’ve got it all – his typical behaviors, his hopes and dreams and so much more – all courtesy of the kindness and generosity of the Murray family who’ve worked so hard with us these past couple of months, like all the families of the victims have. Kutter’s first experience in the RELIVE simulation will be the last day in the life of Jack Murray.”
There was a slight pause while Donner looked around the room.
“And when it’s done,” he said. “When Kutter – as Jack – is gunned down by his simulated self, we’ll bring him right back and put him into the second simulation – Kirsty Rolland, a seventeen-year-old girl who like Jack, had the world at her feet. Now you may be wondering ladies and gentlemen – how do we bring Kutter back from such an intense experience without scrambling his mind? Well we’ve got that covered. When Jack, aka Kutter, is about to black out after being shot, we’ll activate the ARP – that’s the Angel Recovery Program. The dying Jack will see the vision of an angel reaching towards him. Naturally he’ll reach out and this is important because that’s his mind accepting death. It’s this cognitive process that allows for a safe method of shutting the Murray program down. When we do that, we can bring Kutter back to the real world.”
The Dystopiaville Omnibus: A Dystopian Sci-Fi Horror Collection Page 22
