We Are Them

by L. K. Samuels

  “Stay in touch,” Jack said, trying to smile. He turned and retreated to the elevator.

  “Wait!” I called to him. I had to ask. “Any truth to the rumor that we now execute violators on the spot? I should be privy to official city policy.”

  “Sure.” Jack turned around for a split moment, still walking. “It’s no rumor.” Before I could follow up with another question, he was gone, trailed by two of his armed bodyguards.

  Tommy scurried into my room like a frightened rabbit. He slammed the door and ran for me. I jumped out of the way. His body crashed so hard against my wall that his image left permanent marks. He inched away from the wall, and then scanned the room for any movement or any sign of activity.

  I pointed at the wall: “You’re paying for that.”

  “Time-out, man! Time-out!” Tommy lifted his hands up like a football coach stopping the clock. “This is getting freakily out of control! Someone has to stop the world. I need to get off.”

  “You can’t; it’s spinning too fast,” I tried to provoke some laughter or something to lessen the tension.

  Tommy leaned over my desk and grabbed my hand. “Here, slap me. Wake me up! Has Armageddon arrived?”

  “Quit panicking.”

  “I know what’s going on.” Tommy grabbed both of my arms and looked straight into my eyes. “It’s the Y2K bug! It’s the Y2K bug! They knew we were trying to stop its fiendish plans for world domination. So, they launched a preemptive strike. The computers are coming for us.”

  I pushed Tommy away. “Come on. Be serious.”

  Tommy backed away and looked down. “I’m somewhat serious,” he said in a soft, weak tone.

  “We have more problems than rebellious computers.”

  “We do?”

  “Did you overhear Jack’s pithy comment? Did you?”

  “Well,… sort of.”

  “That’s serious. Violators shot on sight! Seems rather harsh for a TRAFFIC VIOLATION! I thought Big Al was making that up.”

  “Oh, that thing,” Tommy started to calm down.

  “That thing! Their minds must be pickled,” I said, feeling a little dizzy. I shook my head in disgust.

  “Wow! We’re cooked.” Tommy leaned back and closed his eyes. “Man, this is a real bummer. We’ve got to bug out.”

  “Ahhh… Earth to Tommy. We tried that already.”

  “I know. But put on your thinking sombrero. There is must be a better alternative.”

  “Well, there might be another way,” I said, knowing that it should be easy to leave the city now. After all, I was one of the big boys now, an insider, and a distinguished comrade of the cause. All I had to do was flex my political biceps and bark orders. “That might work,” I said with a slight hint of confidence.

  “Why not sneak out on bicycles?” Tommy suggested. “We can save our lives and energy too.”

  I was about to nix that nutty idea when I noticed that Lenny had entered my office room. He never knocked.

  “No good!” Lenny rushed up to me. He was huffing and puffing, almost out of breath. “I heard the news. National Guard patrol city. Sky full of whirligigs. Nowhere to go.”

  “You mean whirlybirds. Helicopters,” I corrected him.

  “Yeah, that too. Got attack dogs. Boy, almost makes me homesick.”

  “Listen,” I said. “I will talk to the mayor and get permission to leave town. On business, of course.”

  “We could use more computers and other equipment,” Tommy said. “Not to mention food.”

  “Tommy’s sure got that right good,” Lenny confirmed what the rumor mills had been alleging all morning. “No food anywhere. All stores closed. They’re idioty!” He slowly slapped his face. “This is worse than back in mother Russia. You Americans, you know how to do things up big.”

  Lenny was correct. It was unreal. There was a lockdown on everything. He informed us that almost every business and industry had been shut down—except for a selected few.

  “Only few politicians can get stuff,” Lenny said. “What you expect?”

  For over a week, the city promised to solve our lack of food. The new Department of Rationing, the DOF, was set up to print and distribute food ration coupons to help the poor, but that seemed doubtful. Sarah had gone to the grocery store and the shelves were bare. What was the point of printing up food coupons when little or no food was available?

  “Okay, that settles it,” I said. “I must procure a pass to leave our little slice of heaven behind. I just need to finagle the proper paperwork from Mayor Quinn. After I do that, we can pack up and forget about our jobs and work.” The word “work” stuck in my throat. As I caught a glance of my team of almost 300 public employees, I saw a disturbing pattern. Nobody was actually working. Most of them were just playing cards, gossiping, or reading paperback books. Something was wrong.

  “Tommy, look.” I pointed my finger at the masses of idle workers. “Find out why?” I assumed that our citizens had stopped calling because they had discovered an escape route, were too scared to call, or were loitering in the mortuary.

  It did not take Tommy long to unearth the problem. He came running back, huffing and puffing, almost completely out of breath. He took a gulp of air and screamed, “They’re being trucked out!”

  “What?”

  “Rumors are flying that hordes of citizens are being loaded into military trucks, and then driven to special camps.”

  “Special camps?” I asked with a sudden burst of alarm.

  “A good friend referred to them as re-education camps.”

  “Come on!” I said with fear lacing my voice. “Nobody does that anymore.”

  Tommy shook his head. “We’re screwed, man.”

  “That’s it. We have no other choice. I have to finagle a get-out-of-Hemet pass from the Mayor Quinn.”

  “Boy, I don’t envy you, Tommy said. “I heard he is three fries short of a Happy Meal.” Tommy made circular motions around his ear. “He’s loonier than a loon.”

  “Do you want to come along?” I asked, hoping to share the unpleasant experience.

  Tommy violently shook his head. “Are you crazy? That’s like strolling through a grizzly bear den. Unarmed. No can do.”

  Of course, I knew that was going to be his answer.

  * * * * *

  After I got approval to see the mayor, I flew down the stairs, and stood in front of the DED building. In a flash, I found myself surrounded by five oversized guards. Apparently, it was a fashion statement to wear a Kevlar bulletproof vest and old combat metal helmet while being escorted to City Hall. I soon discovered why. There were reports that enemy snipers had targeted several people of importance. I felt relatively safe since I was a medium-sized cog in an overwhelmingly massive machine. Who would shoot someone with such a small political footprint? Then again, I might be mistaken.

  Passing through a narrow entrance between two long rolls of barbed wire, I found myself inside the belly of the headless beast, or as some called it—“Borg-Central.” It resembled Hitler’s subterranean bunker during World War II. The city hall building had been remodeled, and for some reason, it conveyed a prison-like, featureless style. The walls were thick gray, concrete blocks streaked with rust stains. Every window was bricked up and troweled over with a cement wash. Most doors were forged with heavy metal plates, giving the feeling of an old battleship. Military officers rushed in and out, as workers patched walls or repaired damaged equipment. A coffin would be more inviting.

  “I need to talk with Mayor Quinn,” I informed a stern-faced sentry. “I’m the new director of the DED.”

  The man nodded and opened a door into another room guarded by another sentry. Past that door, I found the inner headquarters buzzing with activity. A huge map of the city and surrounding areas was nailed to the wall. The smoke-filled room was chaotic, people calling out locations and troop strengths. A number of expletive-spewing staff officers pulled out or replaced a rainbow of colored pushpins. They had encircled the
war map, all google-eyed, worshipping it like a god with the power of foresight. The other side of the room was more modern, stuffed with rows and rows of consoles with monitors, radar screens, and GPS tracking systems. I surmised that this must be their main war room.

  “Spencer, is that you?” Mayor Quinn appeared in an old army coat, his arm in a sling. Jack Fish Eyes stood next to the mayor. “Good to see you. We need to talk about upgrading the equipment at DED. I fear that all of these distractions have slowed down your operations.”

  “Well, a little,” I fibbed.

  “That’s horrible. I cannot believe that the good people of this city are disobeying my direct orders.”

  “We must boil the frog, Sir,” Jack whispered cryptically in the mayor’s ear.

  “Not yet, Jack.” The mayor turned back to me. “If people refuse to call us, then I suppose the next step is to tell them where to go. They need good judgment.”

  “We’re already doing that,” I reminded him.

  “No. I mean we initiate the process. We determine where and when they go. They have no choice. We know better. They will simply flitter away their time and resources anyway. The plebs always abuse their gifts. We must take the high ground, the commanding heights. You know, show them we mean it. Squeeze them. Break them. Tell them what the score is.”

  “Do you mean we should not ask them where they want to go?”

  “That’s the point. You are a faster learner, Spencer. We cannot allow people to make their own decisions anymore. That is why we are in this horrible mess. We were elected to solve our city’s problems. Every single one of them. And that is exactly what we’re going to do.”

  “What about a spontaneous walk down the street to visit a relative?” I asked, trying to subtly argue my case.

  “If they’re in such a hurry, they can just walk or bike,” the Mayor said, but then paused to reconsider. “Although, they might take an inefficient bike or pedestrian route.”

  Not this crap all over again. I eyed a gray-haired major nearby. He carried a revolver in his hip holster. I could grab it, pull it out and blow out my brains or simply blast the Mayor to Kingdom Come. Now they want to exercise control over people’s biking and walking habits. When will this all end? These sociopaths were determined to oversee every strain of hair on our heads until we all went bald.

  “You’re very important to my operations.” The mayor turned back to me and smiled with a sick glint in his eye.

  “I appreciate your confidence in me, but I need more equipment to increase my department’s efficiency.”

  “Very good. And you shall have it. I will see that you get what you need.”

  “Well, I need the supplies and equipment now. I’m familiar with what we need, so I could fetch them from Riverside.”

  “Nobody leaves Hemet. Nobody! You will get them later.”

  “It would not take long.”

  “I said nobody leaves my command! Stop badgering me! It will happen,” the mayor snarled. And with that sadistic grin still glued to his face, he pulled out an old German Lugar. “Everyone stays at their post, no matter what. No retreating! You understand me?”

  “Yes!” I always said “yes” to any wacko holding a gun near my face. I had developed that nervous habit not long ago.

  “Now go!” The Mayor commanded, waving his weapon at me.

  I found it intolerable to be treated like a serf by an elected official, especially one I voted for in the last election. I started to inch my way towards the door. It was time to give the Mayor all the space he wanted. Instead, he moved closer into my personal space zone.

  “I’m not the villain here.” Mayor Quinn slowly holstered his pistol. “In fact, I’m the victim. My opponents are abusing me. They’re the ones who refuse to pay attention to our laws. No matter how well we construct our ordinances, somebody always disobeys. We have no choice but to weed out the bad apples before they taint the entire barrel. Our mission is to create a noble and equable society. One devoid of hunger, sickness, or want of any kind. Remember, we are the professionals. We know what is best. And we will bring order and peace, no matter if we have to obliterate the universe.”

  “Obliterate?” I swallowed hard and braced myself for more bad news.

  “That is right. We have to defeat the other army,” the Mayor said with eyes gorged with hate. “Our enemies must be defeated at all cost; they are evil incarnated.”

  “What other army?” I asked innocently.

  “Boy, you’re out of the loop.”

  “I didn’t know there was a loop.”

  The Mayor stared at me as if I were the crazy one.

  “Ahh…” I said trying to think of what to say to placate him. “I’m not getting much sleep. I’ve been putting in long hours at the DED.”

  The Mayor eased up. “I see. Very commendable. But we are facing a formidable enemy, an adversary with a powerful army. We have to fight them with everything we have. Every man and woman must fight to the death. If we fail, I will shoot myself before surrendering. Everyone should prepare to do the same. You should too. That is why we must win.”

  I felt obligated to agree. As I nodded with a forced smile, I searched around for the nearest escape exit. I had enough political speeches for a lifetime. I wanted no part of a Mad-Hatter mayor who learned his polemic skills from Mussolini and his logic from Alice in Wonderland. This little tinhorn tyrant needed a reality check, or a tongue-lashing, or both. If only I had something more than the truth for self-defense.

  “That’s why you cannot leave. Nobody can until we have crushed them,” the Mayor began frothing at the mouth.

  “Wow,” I mouthed silently. I could see that hate was now the default reaction against those who took a different view. The mayor and his cohorts had mutated into righteous lovers of hate. They appeared embittered and hell-bent on revenge, seething with a wild, uncontrollable rage to make people suffer. It made no sense. And far worse, it seemed that the mayor and his cronies were deriving pleasure from destroying all unbelievers. I had to get out.

  As I slowly backed up, the hairs on the back of my neck were bristling. I was not sure whether Mayor Quinn was just attempting to advance his political career or if something more sinister was afoot. That was what really scared me. Was this something new, something beyond the typical power play that had plagued mankind since recorded history? That question haunted me and kept my nightmares from fading away.

  “Jack, see him out!” The Mayor pointed his shaking finger at me. “I think I’ve heard enough.”

  I finally left with Jack Fish Eyes, trailed by pair of armed men.

  As we walked out of City Hall, I slowed down and tried to talk with Jack about his curious statement concerning boiled frogs. Jack simply shrugged. “It’s an old adage, nothing more.”

  “I see.” I knew there was more to it. They were planning something big. A frog would jump out of boiling water if suddenly dropped into a hot pot. But if the water was slowly heated up, the frog would not sense the danger until it was too late. Meaning that something was nearing the boiling point. Apparently, they had at least one more notch to go before they reached the hot final solution—whatever that was.

  “If I were you, I would refrain from arguing with the Mayor,” Jack said quietly. “He is not as understanding as I am.”

  I felt a real urge to click my boot heels and shout Sieg Heil! But the humor would have been lost at my expense.

  After a nice walk through the war zone, my armed escort left me at the door of the DED building. I tried to use the elevator, but either it was broken or the electricity was off again. A few seconds after I reached my office, Tommy barged inside. I sat in my chair and waited for him to explode again.

  “What did the tards say?”

  “It’s a no-go.”

  “Man, total bummer!” Tommy looked away.

  “Yeah, that’s about the gist of it.” I sat and fumed. I had failed to get a pass. I did not know what to say. There seemed to be no correc
t answer, no winning outcome. The mayor was brandishing a gun to force his people to obey his commands. Talk about a bad way to motivate people. I knew all about incentives and encouragement. I had taken dozens of motivation classes, courtesy of the taxpayer. Bullying and threats never solved the problem.

  “Who’s bummed?” Brian entered my office room without knocking.

  Tommy stood straight up. “Nobody can get out of the city.”

  “Oh, that. Yes, I know.”

  “You do?” I asked.

  “We need to talk, sir.” Brian faced me and eyed Tommy. “Alone.”

  I waved Tommy out.

  “I just thought you should know,” Brian hesitated for a moment, then lowered his voice. “We have a number of problems.”

  “Which ones?” I chuckled. “They’re growing like pesky weeds.”

  “I should not reveal this, but you and your wife are both on my list of possible opponents of the DED. Sort of strange, since you now head the department.”

  “So Borg Central called you?” I said sarcastically. There was little point in hiding my strong opinions. “Is anyone NOT on your list?”

  “But sir, you cannot be against your own department.”

  “I just don’t like the way it’s being controlled from upstairs. You know, from City Hall.”

  “Yes, I completely understand. But Jack has asked me to do things I would never have imagined.”

  I sat up in my chair. “Like what?”

  “You see, that’s part of the problem. I cannot discuss it with anyone but Jack.”

  “Oh, so you’ve made a pinky-swear with Jack?”

  Brian’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not like that.”

  “What is it like?”

  “You don’t understand what they will do if you get caught. They have, ah… persuasive ways.”

  “I’m the one who put you in your position. And now you won’t discuss it with me?”

  “I’m under orders. Sorry. I would… well… If I did spill the beans, it would not just jeopardize my life, but my entire family. I cannot do that.”

  I slumped in my chair. “Well, I hope you will at least warn me about an impending arrest warrant.”