by Jane
“This is a satellite program. You are a test population. You are the first U.S. citizens to be a part of it. It is experimental and can be cancelled at any time. So keep your mouths shut and listen.”
A hush settles over the room. Most of us look like middleclass losers. A little overweight, pockmarked faces, calloused hands and beaten down eyes.
“You should consider yourselves lucky,” he says. “Out of 100,000 candidates across this great land of ours, you are the ones we picked. Why you may ask? Because you are the ones that, according to the barrage of psychological and physiological tests we gave you, will most likely go along with the program and not kill again. Zeke, I still don’t know how you got in.”
“I stayed after class, sir. Teacher liked me.”
The man on stage grins for a second, and then it is back to his dead eyes. It will be many years until I see him again, but I will never forget him. Those eyes have a way of singling you out of a crowd and making you shift in your seat.
2. MARCY
I squirm a bit in my chair as his eyes pan the group of misfits that will be our new family. Bringing Roland with me is something that made me sick at first, but the more I learn about the program, the more it feels like the break I never thought I’d get. The thin man at the podium has a violence about him that I’m drawn to, but not as much as the one at the back of the stage. Hiding in the shadows, that guy, there is something exotic about him. His skin is a little dark, his eyes a bit more almond shaped. His clothes grip him like a glove. Every time he turns his neck the muscles bulge and strain at his shoulders. I’ve already caught him checking me out, and when I stood up, turned around, and bent over to reach my purse, I know he took in an eyeful. Next to my breasts, my ass is my best...what’s the word? Asset? Ha, making myself laugh now.
“You will be the ones in charge of our little community. I know, the inmates running the asylum, it’s been passed around already, heard it many times. This is a gift, know that. This is your last chance. If you fuck up while you are staying with us there will be no pardon. There will be no alone time in isolation. There will be no loss of cigarettes and a slap on the wrist. You will get three warnings. Three strikes, many of you are used to that. And then you will be “taken out back,” he says, making little quotation marks with his fingers, “and shot.”
A mumble works its way through the crowd. Heads turn and brows furrow.
“It you don’t like it, you motherfuckers and pederasts, then get the fuck out now. There’s the door.” He gestures to the two men in dark jumpsuits standing next to the double-doors of steel that sit to one side. “You signed up for this and know the riskreward scenario.”
A flush runs across my chest and I fan myself for a second, taking a deep breath and recrossing my legs. He has a way with his words, that’s for sure. I wonder if he’ll take me from behind, or if he prefers to be tied up and told what to do? He seems like a doggie-style kind of guy to me. But you never know. Could be all diapers and mommy complex. His eyes turn to me and I’m forced to look away as he squints in my direction. The smile on my face fades into unease.
“To be honest, there are 106 of you. We fully expect there to be problems. I’d be very surprised if there were 106 who actually make the second leg of this journey. And that’s okay.”
He turns to look behind him at the large man in the shadows. There are several suits on that stage, ear mics and guns under their jackets. But only these two seem to matter. It is as if the rest are in black and white, and they are in high-definition color. A quick nod from his partner and he continues.
“In fact, we’re counting on it. We don’t have room on your transportation. So between now and when we leave, which could be tonight, or could be in a week, several of you will disappear. Outbursts like Zeke’s here, that’s a good indicator. Zeke, you’ll be sorely missed.”
“Fuck you, Gordon,” he snarls, eyes never leaving the stage. A smile grows. “Sir.”
Gordon’s eyes shoot to the guards at the door, “One more outburst like that and you have my permission to take him outside. You got me?”
“Yes sir,” they respond, arms folded behind their backs, feet a shoulder length apart.
I turn to look at Roland. He seems in a daze, and who could blame him. Luckily he has no idea what is going on. I bend down to whisper in his ear, my eyes on the man I now know as Gordon.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Sure Mom. Just bored. Is this over soon? I wanna go back to our room. It’s hot in here.”
“Sure honey, not much longer.”
Making eye contact with the hulk at the back of the stage, I give him a sly grin, and he returns it in spades.
3. JIMMY
A hundred and five actually. I’ve seen it happen already. When we were boarding the buses, I saw a man. Well...that’s what I’ll call him. I didn’t like the sight of him one bit. He made Zeke look like a history teacher. There was a rumor that we’d been drugged. It was bouncing around the prison as we got ready for the bus ride. Turned out it was true. We all got on for the ride from...wait a second. We all got on the ride from...where was it again? Goddamnit, this shit kept happening. It was Phoenix, I think. Or was it Portland. Something with a “P” I think. It was hot, I know that much. I mean, I think it was hot. What was I wearing? No idea. Damnit.
Glancing up at the podium his words drift in and out again. I can’t focus on what he is saying. This mathematical equation keeps bouncing around my skull. I asked a couple of the other guys about it, the ones that had financial backgrounds. The scientists. They said it was some sort of an algorithm. Funny, had to look that word up. Still don’t quite understand it all. The science guys kept saying that whatever I was talking about, it wouldn’t work. I was making huge leaps in several steps, beyond what was known and what had been proven. I had no clue. I could recite the cure for cancer, a way to stop time, and the ability to turn silk into gold and I still wouldn’t know what the fuck I was talking about. That was most of my reality these days. Something had changed.
I give a little nod to the man next to me. He seems nice enough. I’ll need all the friends I can get there. I’ve been passing out a lot lately. Maybe he can watch my back.
The bus ride. Right.
They had ten buses. That’s ten people on each bus. They wanted us far apart from each other. No sitting next to each other, no talking, nothing. Silence. I was on one of the last buses to board. The others had already left. This guy didn’t want to get on. The men in the black suits came out of the woodwork pretty fast. One minute he was working himself into a frenzy, arms flailing around, shouting about drugs and sickness, immunity and headaches, vomiting and sterilization. The next he was on the ground with a pool of blood expanding around his head. I never heard a gun. I never saw a knife. It was so fast. One minute he was up, the next he was down. Their eyes turned to the bus, all of them, as if pivoting on one head. I snapped my neck so fast I got a crick in it. But I didn’t move. I didn’t look up. Or wince. Next thing I knew we were here. Wherever that is. Phoenix, I think. The drugs.
“We all on the same page here?” the man continues. I’m not sure if we’re reading the same book.
4. X
Gordon is beginning to be a problem. But this is not a surprise. We planned for this. We knew that any agency that would let him go as easy as that must have had issues with him. If he makes it to the island I’ll be shocked. But somebody has to make an example of these derelicts, and when he screws up, it will only help me and my personal agenda.
Scanning the audience they looked pretty good. Sixty-forty women over men. Fifty percent Caucasian, twenty percent African American, twenty percent Hispanic. The rest were considered other. I loved that. OTHER. Didn’t get a lot of Orientals in jail for murder. Either they didn’t do it, or they were too smart to get caught.
Zeke was another one. I made sure he got in, regardless of the tests. He’s another pawn of mine, and will come in handy on
e day. He knows too much, that's the problem. But as long as I keep him in the fold, he’ll be okay. We evolved together in Bangkok. That was a long time ago. He’s a bit of a Trojan horse, and I will need all the help I can get once we got there. I’m not 100% yet. Not even close. Maybe never will be. But I have to keep going. He helped me with that, he did research, and understood. He’ll never achieve what I have, but we both know that. He is content to go along for the ride. What choice does he have?
“Once we get to the...our location, there will be training. You will be part of the illusion. You will work your jobs just like you did in civilian life. For some of you, this won’t be much of a stretch. We’ve tried to place you in appropriate positions where your skills can be utilized. The rest of this will work out like a combination of the lottery and reality television. I’m sure you’re all familiar with both. Do your job, initiate the new prisoners, and you’ll be eligible for parole. A free trip back to the real world. It can happen just like that,” he says, snapping his fingers.
He is good, I’ll give him that. He’ll whip them into a frenzy, and the chaff will fall to the wayside. He has their attention now, even Zeke.
“There will be some employees there. You will not know who they are. They are here now. They will report back to us. There will be cameras. There will be digital diary entries. You will be watched and held accountable. Once a month, one of you will be eligible for parole. Our board will meet, and if there is a candidate that has been exceptional in their portrayal and execution of the small, beachfront life, then they will be set free.”
A grin creeps across my face. That’s the beauty of it. Nobody will ever come back. We’re embarking on a trip to the New World. I can smell the coconut oil already.
The blonde woman, Marcy. She doesn’t remember me at all. And that’s how it’s supposed to be. I never met Roland, not until this all started. She has potential. Zeke likes her too. Recovering heroin addict, multiple homicides, one of the only female serial killers to ever exist. We’ve talked, and she says there’s a reason for what she did. A holy mission, a calling. I guess you could call it that, it’s what we planned, many years ago. I will keep Marcy close, her and a couple of other citizens. If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be isolated in no time. The program will be cut off. The mutation will continue, and the virus will spread. And then the second batch, stronger than the first. In losing my position and power, I will be off the grid. Which is what I want.
5. GORDON
Look at all those eager eyes. A bunch of fucking lemmings ready to run right off the cliff. This is going to be fun. Between X
and I this show is going to be epic. Our own little garden of Eden at the end of the world. I have no remorse in taking out several of the more erratic candidates. It’ll just make life easier on the island. I don’t need to watch my back 24-7 and with the predators like Zeke gone, us alpha-dogs can roam with free will.
At least they listened to my suggestion about the women. We’ll need them to be in the majority. But I fucked up on the selection. I was in Omaha that weekend and left someone else in charge. It wasn’t supposed to happen until I came back. Probably something X set up. I don’t know what kind of a number that asshole’s mother did on him, but the selection of women he gave us was pathetic. After I caught him leaking information to a journalist friend of his, I took care of him. The two of them had a little car accident out on Route 80. When you hit a deer going 65 mph it isn’t a pretty sight. And to this day nobody even asks what a deer was doing out there. It could’ve been a fucking blue whale and they’d have nodded their heads and muttered about how weird it was. They have no idea.
I was only able to get Marcy in on a technicality. X had taken one look at her and nodded his acceptance. So one more ex-meth head took a face plant on the sidewalk. So what. I’ve already picked the ones that need to go. The stage has been set for those departures. Whatever is the most frightening, unsettling, and ultimately effective way of killing them in front of the other prisoners, that is what we we’re going to do. The 100 that make it have to fear us. They have to fear the suits, and the united, as I call them. But they also have to fear the unknown, such as taking somebody in the middle of the night off of a busload of sleeping prisoners. They need to feel vulnerable. Every one of these idiots will hold on to their sanity by believing they have some control over their future. They have to believe that if they only listen and obey the rules they’ll get off the island. No such luck.
“In time, you could all go home. And one by one, the new prisoners will be taken into the fold. They will be told everything. And then they will be accorded the same opportunities that you have.”
Their eyes stare back at me with hope. It makes me smile. None of us will get off the island. And that is okay with me. There is nothing here for me now and I doubt there will be anything left for me after the fallout.
“Oh, one thing.”
I walk across the stage and down the four steps to the floor below. I pull my handgun out of my shoulder holster and walk up to the grizzled man in the front row with the long hair. Randy. He was busy leaning over to a buxom brunette with a weathered face. Grinning and working his major before we even got there. Laying the ground work. He was also taping this entire episode, and was planning on palming it to the guard outside. That guard would mail it to the New York Times. Except right now, that guard was being escorted to a garbage truck in fractured pieces of his former self. I place the pistol in the center of Randy’s forehead and squeeze the trigger. He barely has time to look up. But he knows what is coming and what he has done. There are screams I’m sure, but I never hear them. I simply slide my hand into his jacket pocket and pull out the tape recorder. I flip the microcassette out and drop the tape recorder to the ground where it cracks into a dozen pieces. Pulling the tape out in three quick motions, it spins out over Randy’s limp body, dropping quickly to the puddle that is forming under his head.
“105.”
6. ASSIGNED
//
begin
Camera 1: stage
status: on
camera 2: east door
status: on
camera 3: back of hall
status: on
camera 4: alley
status: off
scan of prisoners:
1..................................34.......
...............................68...........
.......................................106
low heart rate: 62
median heart rate: 74
high heart rate: 81
decibel level breached - 140
cameras 1-4 tracking sound
employee source: gordon
summation: gunshot
scan of prisoners:
1...........................22..............
..................54........................
.....72.........................105
report filed to administration
employee G12ASHWORTH_gen
RE: termination
prisoner count has been reduced to 106
<
<
suggestions are being routed to levels 1-c,
and positions 1-6.
CC: exodus
END
//
7. ROLAND
They shuttle us out of there pretty fast. I don’t see much as I am playing with my PSPX. Street Fighter2020, totally cool. Mom keeps trying to bury my face in her shirt or something. Two guys are yelling at each other - the tall skinny guy who has been talking the whole time and a much bigger guy who is all red in the face. A crowd of people stand around them. Including those idiots in the jumpsuits. Losers.
Before I know it we’re outside and going back to our room. Looks like snow. A tiny little
boring space that I have to share with my mom was what we called home right now. It sucks.
“What happened mom?”
“Nothing, just a fight, couple of idiots. You didn’t see anything?”
“Naw, I was busy beating Cromegatron. Sucker always goes for the fake out. And then I reach in and pull out his heart and show it to him. Cool.”
“Roland, that’s so violent. Maybe you shouldn’t be playing that.”
“Mom, everyone at school is. You said I could take this with me. First I have to leave my friends, and now you want to take my games away? Come on. Please?”
She gives me a heavy sigh, something I’m used to seeing more and more.
“Okay.”
People are running around. Guess we’re moving on soon. Hope it’s warm there. I’m sick of snow. The whole drive down here has been cold. At least we left the ice and sleet behind. But a week in and out of run down hotels isn’t much fun. Guards everywhere, and those stupid buses. Nothing but ass on those things. Piss and farts.
Sometimes she gets like this, overprotective. It weirds me out. It’s like she goes on alert. Her body gets all stiff, her eyes look around. I’ve seen her do things before. Push ups, like hundreds of them. In a row. Sit ups, like hundreds of them. In a row. She’s way stronger than she looks. Whenever she catches me looking at her too long she stops being all weird, her eyes relax and she smiles and comes over and gives me a hug. I like her better that way. But sometimes at night, when I’m scared, when I hear strange laughter outside our hotel, or banging on the walls, I’m glad she has this other side. This other mom. Just in case I need her to protect me.
“Come on Roland, lets go bunker down. Enough of this nonsense. These guys we’re traveling with, they don’t have all their marbles. So keep an eye out. Anybody comes up to you, touches you, or tries to get in your face, you let me know. You come get me. Or just point it out. I’ll take care of it.”
That’s what I’m talking about. It’s like her eyes catch fire and I don’t think she even knows it. I’m scared of her but it’s better than being alone.
