When the night came, all of the family and friends trickled in one by one, going to one of the back rooms, or grabbing a spot in the living room. The bench-couches were the prized sleeping places and Miek, now basically one with the family was arguing playfully with the sixteen year old for. They tried rock paper scissors always upping the number of games that made it a fair win.
Samson didn’t argue with the floor and fell asleep like he’d always been there; a stone still decoration. No one could move him now, either, so he got stepped on a few times, not waking up. Several groaned when they found out how many cushions he stole, too and tried to pull them out from underneath him, with several complaints of, “Samson… ahhh, Samson, get off.”
Gabe was sure he saw Samson smile.
Once they finally got Jonathan inside, there was much to talk about. Miek had given up the couch to the boy and was sitting at the table with the others. Samson appeared to be sound out on the floor, still.
“We want to strike a deal with you.” Dane said frankly, “Maybe not so much a deal… but we wanted to tell you what’s happening so you at least can know and be involved. What we intend to do, we intend no matter what you think.”
Jonathan folded his arms, and stood more broadly as if daring them to say more. Gabe thought, wrong move, kids. Maybe you like honesty, but that isn’t going to work right now. Nothing is going to win Jonathan over. As far as that’s concerned, very little would win him over either. Unless they were thinking of the thing he most desired, even in his weakness… then maybe he’d give them anything they wanted.
“We will continue to help you do research, try to improve society through your knowledge, if you will agree to not come back to life again.” Dane said promptly.
Jonathan laughed dully, cynically. “No.”
Gabe withheld any remark for the moment. As far as they knew, coming back to life had to do with the cave and people calling them out with the button combination. Gabe couldn’t even be sure if these kids knew it was a choice. Right now, they were making assumptions that there was some way, somehow, that only Jonathan and Gabe knew about.
Gabe spoke up, he was just about done with Jonathan anyway, “I’ll agree to that.”
Jonathan sent him a scathing look. His next words coursed through him and came out like vomit. “YOU ASSHOLE! Ready and willing to go to hell, are you?”
He leaped up out of his chair and landed on Gabe, who wanted to fight back so badly, but just felt his muscles couldn’t work. Too old. Desperately he started hitting Jonathan at the ribs; the only place he could reach now that Jonathan’s hand was around his throat. He could hear the sounds of people trying to get Jonathan off, of chairs being thrown aside. Someone yelled for Samson. An elbow came between Gabe’s face and Jonathan’s as Samson put Jonathan in a headlock and squeezed until he let go of Gabe’s tender throat. He thought he saw and felt Jonathan lose consciousness briefly. The door was opened in sync with Samson’s dance-like movement as he picked Jonathan up and tossed him out into the grass. Jonathan was like an animal, impulsive, and carnal. Though not a strong human being, comparing with Gabe he might as well be a bear. And if Jonathan was a bear, Samson was some hybrid beast.
“Just don’t kill him, yah?” Dane said. Dane was fed up with Jonathan.
“Yah.” Samson replied before the door slammed shut.
After Gabe was told to relax, and could comprehend it, he didn’t know how long he lay there, crying. His brain switched back and felt the utter betrayal Jonathan felt. If the betrayal was the other way around, Gabe would be hateful, too. Gabe wondered if he agreed subconsciously, though, in spite of Jonathan. Remembering how frightening Jonathan’s wicked face was and the pain Gabe was now in, helped him set his priorities straight. It was about time someone gave Jonathan a taste of his own medicine. Gabe was still crying from the shock, mostly. The pain was bad, too. May had a thin cloth that he was cleaning blood off of Gabe’s neck with; three distinct fingernail marks they said. Dane was watching Samson and Jonathan through the window, tensely.
Maybe Jonathan went for the throat to keep him from speaking for the next few days, instead of taking a fist to Gabe’s jaw. In the comfort of several blankets, Gabe quietly watched everything going on for three days. Pleased to have an excuse not to talk, he watched and listened as they made plans, as they taunted unknowingly with their own agendas, their own bitterness, their own life and death decisions they claimed he and Jonathan weren’t allowed to make. How hypocritical. Not as perfect, now, are you? Gabe thought. Now that they think they won the game they show themselves more honestly. No one really wanted happiness for others. No one could understand true success in that realm of things.
The first night, Gabe couldn’t sleep at all. Secretly… as everything he thought was a secret now… he didn’t want to sleep. No, no, he wanted to die. But, if he could learn as much as he could before he died, he’d stay awake.
The next day they offered to take him around town. May seemed a little hesitant, looking repeatedly from his eyes to the bruise on his neck. Well, yeah, of course, what would they think to see something like that? It could easily be blamed on Samson, or Dane. Regardless of whatever fear she felt by this, she hosted him through the city for an hour or two. The main market proved almost too busy to walk through, but it was not a deterrent to May who was used to it by now. She weaved in and out of people, losing Gabe a few times.
By size and by population, this was the biggest city. If not for May’s narrative, Gabe wouldn’t have known what they were passing. A furniture store where they used only wood – a clothing store with hemp and leaf woven skirts, pants, and corset things – and chickens everywhere! In addition to all of this, there was the faint but distinct smell of pot.
May bought a few food items to take back with them and a few to eat now. Gabe was surprised at how much food was there from the farms and the irrigation, and how little, overly-ripe, and expensive the natural grown fruit was. When the rush hour died down, May walked side by side with him through all the streets.
“So what exactly are you looking for?” May asked. Then, when he tried to respond with a raspy and painful voice, she quickly excused the question, and told him to stop talking. Gratefully, for the pain and for not having to give away information, he did stop. Her question was valid, and she seemed a bit put out that he couldn’t explain, so now she just watched him closely.
He was looking for courthouses, for religious sanctuaries, for moral and immoral interactions. In the bustle of the market he saw a little drug trade, which was expected, especially in the biggest city. On one of the side streets, there was a bigger building which May said was for physical illnesses. Gabe wondered if May had ever walked past that building in a debate while she was pregnant, holding her stomach. The thought irritated Gabe because he realized he was no longer separating what happened between one cloning to the next. Aborting may be a rare act now.
From what he could see in the streets of houses, there was co-habituating, but typically it was young couples and he doubted that they stayed that way for long. What about property? Who owned the houses? Women had just as much right to them as men, it seemed. When they passed a small construction site, Gabe became very curious why so many women were working there. May explained that women built the home – like a coming of age thing, because they will most likely be the ones to live in it longest once they have children.
Returning to the cleared main street, Gabe saw no courthouses, no sanctuaries, only the market place. One thing was strikingly different, and that was the lack of attempted communicative technology. There was no playhouse to make up for television, there were no phone lines with aluminum cans, there was no central hub filled with papers with dumb remarks about everyone’s day, or messages to friends that could just as easily be spoken to.
This was a relief only because of technology’s addictive qualities, not because it was inherently bad. It just meant that, fortunately, habits were transforming. Maybe one more time st
arting over would do it. The level of “immorality” was decreasing, too, though, and that was inexplicably frustrating to him. It was this that he ruminated about for the next day, in what was now suffocating silence. Greater intent accompanied his watching and his listening now. Sometime soon he would learn something of import that would flip a switch in his head, and he would understand them.
Light poked through the dark veil when May and Dane were talking at the table the third night of his silence. May shed a few tears off and on. Her head was in her hands as they sat at the table. Dane was next to her. They had been there for hours. Ninety percent of the communication was silent. An internal debate, one that had been on her mind for a long time, was weighing on her. Clearly, she was making attempts to be rational, but felt forlorn.
“I have a hard time wanting to stay here.” She said, “I like traveling, meeting new people, I like feeling purpose as I search for something. Now I’m not sure what it is I’m searching for. Or, I know what it is, and I’m just not sure I want it.”
Dane didn’t wipe the tear off of her face, but watched her calmly, as if trying to figure out if he could help.
She continued, “I think a lot about what Treman wrote about… about relationships and women and men. That women need to make a choice if they want children. How he’s tired of women complaining about being forced to stay at home with children. If they don’t want that, they shouldn’t have sex. Well… it happened and, to some extent, I’m not sure I chose it, or, I didn’t choose this. You know?”
A tear rolled down her cheek. She tapped the wood anxiously with her fingernails, “I can’t tell which one I want, or which one I’m supposed to want.”
Gabe perked up, “Supposed to want?” he asked. His voice cracked. He was intruding. He knew it. Nonetheless they were patient and looked at him for some potentially intellectual an inevitable remark. “Why should you suppose to want anything? The point of wanting things had nothing to do with supposition.”
“And why shouldn’t it?” May asked heavily. Gabe couldn’t tell if she was interested or just being polite.
“The only reason you would supposed to do something is if its benefits outweigh the cost. You act like there’s a right way to do it.”
“Is there?”
“No. It’s just however you choose to do it that benefits you.”
May and Dane drifted back quietly to their own thoughts, not even finishing their previous conversation. It was very quiet in the whole house… Gabe was put out that they didn’t argue back. He sat back, feeling dejected and looked around the room.
Samson was reading in a corner. All of the children were asleep in the back room. Janine was tidying up but was fading to sleep fast. When she finally said goodnight and slipped into her room, Miek, who was wasting his time until then, poking at the fire, immediately got up and headed to the front door.
May looked up and locked eyes with Miek whose lively eyes shone brightly in firelight which was coming from a few small candles. The message was clear. She knew where he was going. There was something he was supposed to remember, probably. Something they talked about was important from their hushed conversation last night. Gabe had a suspicion of what it was. It all happened so quickly from Janine going to her room to Miek walking out the door.
“Whoa, Whoa, where’s he going?” Gabe said as he watched Miek leave. The look he got from May and Dane was dry and uninvolved. But this was a nightly habit of Miek’s. Gabe anticipated that it was something “shameful” that Miek felt the need to hide. Which, Gabe thought, for research purposes is needing to be discovered. What people choose to hide says a lot about society.
More quickly than anyone expected from an old depressed man, he got up and was out the door. Maybe this was a conspiracy, because the confusion his abrupt departure left on the three waking faces didn’t result in resistance. Looking behind him through the window, just in case, he jogged a little toward the road. Miek waited for him, but as they walked together, they didn’t say where they were going. Both knew, however, and didn’t want to talk about it.
The discomfort encouraged Miek to compensate for the silence by making popping noises, and airy whistling while swinging his lanky arms back and forth.
Gabe tried not to show how uncomfortable he was by clearing his throat non-discreetly. He found himself feeling grateful when he saw Miek raise his arm and point out the first house they’d seen in about a mile. This road seemed oddly forsaken. Gabe wished that he had his little foot pedometer that he usually wore to tell him his daily distance.
When he became conscious of his thoughts again, Gabe realized he was staring down at his feet. Quickly, he snapped his head up, weary to be caught and teased for staring at the ground. The determination of his forward vision was making him feel more and more like a bird of prey. He willed himself to stand straighter.
Miek said, as he pointed, “That’s Tatum’s house. She’s a good friend of May’s …” Then, he was as silent as before he started. Gabe didn’t know how that was important. His scowl increased when Miek looked at him helplessly for a more inspired conversation. Instead, Gabe zone out at the ground again.
His thin companion took his turn now to clear his throat and said, “Um, this house over here is Dr. Selm. May highly recommends his therapy. I’ve gone twice. He’s okay. Dane also goes there, but he tends to hop around anyhow. In any city we’re in he finds some doctor to go to, looking, I think for as much help as valuable theories.”
“Does everyone go to a therapist?”
“… Yeah… most people.”
“Why?”
Miek seemed a lot more hesitant to talk than usual. Not as though he was afraid of giving something away that he ought not. More, it seemed, that something he would say would convict him of the sin of poor intellect. Anything he said, Gabe could forcefully disagree and make him feel like an idiot. Still, he tried, but lacking confidence,
“Depression mostly… anxiety… addiction. Um… Dane once expressed to me some desperate circumstances he was in. He’s uh… a bit of a perfectionist… makes him fret too much.”
“I could have told you that.”
Miek’s mood brightened a little with a positive response from Gabe.
Continuing through town Miek pointed out a few more doctors, including his favorite. Gabe had the suspicion that Miek liked her less because of her therapy and more because of her pretty face and flattery. At least he was encouraged by it. They walked through the market which was the center of town. Gabe was here trying to answer his last question. What do they worship?
Seemed like doctors was a positive possibility. But what were they being healed from? Was it really all depression and anxiety? They had tried to avoid that when they planned. What would have been the catalyst if not chronic? Maybe doctors wasn’t it. Gabe focused more on what Miek was saying, which ended up being quite beneficial.
“… We’re doing the best we can to be happy… I mean, it’s like you think you know everything… and none of us can match up. Not even May and Dane understand what you’re talking about half the time. I just can’t really imagine how you’ll help us…”
Gabe didn’t say anything immediately. This was a really crucial moment. Perhaps he could win Miek over if he was convincing. He explained that they could teach them, if they wanted. Then he asked what it was that they were really looking for. Miek admitted he didn’t really know. He personally was not looking for anything, but was there simply because he liked and trusted May and Dane. Frightening, a bit, how loyal he is. What do they represent to him? Knowledge, experience, adventure… no, maybe a home; people to love. That is what boys like him need. His maturity level was less than his age would expect. Turned out Miek was actually the oldest of all of them. Twenty-five years old made him the oldest of the group.
That could be why they don’t stop him when he leaves to go anywhere. Gabe thought back to the look May gave Miek as he left. Despite what he just said, Gabe was sure that May was his favorit
e therapist. She was more likely to chastise him, than the stranger he saw with the pretty face. The accountability he held to May was endearing. So many discoveries were made tonight talking to Miek as they walked. His theory of what they worshipped became more and more sure. Every therapy session was paid for personally, out of pocket, usually trading for other goods. It was an expected expense. Miek had become accustomed to it now. Though, when he was younger he couldn’t afford it. Then he listed for Gabe the issues they were facing just within their household. Anger management, depression, paranoia and anxiety, insomnia … Gabe would have said all those and more. Even addiction.
Come to think of it, he was surprised they functioned at all. Maybe there would be a market for drugs here. Gabe was no pharmacist, but they could use Jonathan’s pills to decipher what they needed. Gabe changed the subject; he had another question that he was very serious about.
“Why do you act like what you are doing is wrong?”
“Well, don’t you think it is? Especially with May and Dane and the higher rules they seem to live by?”
“What do you mean?”
“They just think some things are… bad. They aren’t mean about it or anything, it’s just… like… well, this, what I do, is bad. Samson’s anger is bad, Jonathan’s addiction is bad. Drugs and alcohol are bad. Disloyalty in romance is bad. Dane’s depression, not that it’s bad, but it’s imprisoning him… they feel like it all takes away from freedom and happiness… get it? For May, it’s mostly related to relationships, I’m sure you know that.”
“For the most part that’s all something we called morality.” Gabe conceded honestly, and so friendly it surprised even himself, “You know, I think you might be interested in an old story. There was a doctor who felt he had two parts of himself… the respectable part that he had honed according to the expectations of society, and the animal-like, free spirited part. He lost himself when he created a potion that would change him into a different person that was his second self. Might be worth studying.”
The GOD Box Page 15
