2043 A.D.

by Edward M Wolfe

  “Thank you. That’s very sweet,” Michelle said.

  The girl waved, flashing her brightly painted, purple fingernails. Everyone on the bus watched her every step to the front where she turned, smiled, and wiggled her fingers at Michelle, then descended the stairs into the night.

  One more mile, then I’m starting a whole new life. I swear to God. I think I’d rather be invisible than popular anymore.

  Nineteen

  Deron had gradually tuned out the droning sound of Dr. Fielding’s voice. At first, he listened, because he wanted to know why he’d been brought here. He wanted to know what was going to be done with him. And he wanted to know how long they intended to keep him. Eventually, he realized the answer to the first question, even though it didn’t make sense to him. And at the rate Dr. Fielding was going, he didn’t expect to get solid answers to his other two questions any time soon.

  Deron could sum up the first thirty minutes of the doctor’s rambling in a few sentences: Man was entitled to happiness. The greatest barrier to man’s happiness was man. So if people would stop being the way they were, we’d all be just fine. So Deron concluded that somehow, Dr. Fielding and the DEO had determined it was their job to make people better than they naturally were, and they’d identified Deron somehow as one of the bad guys.

  This was just more evidence of how stupid the government was. Charlie had taught Deron that the government was comprised of stupid and dangerous people who should always be avoided, if at all possible. When occasions arose that required interaction with such people, they should be conducted sooner rather than later, quickly and efficiently, and the less one said during the interaction, the better off one would be at the end of it.

  Charlie told Deron about a time before the war when he was adding a room to his house. He went to the city planner’s office to get the necessary permit, which really made Charlie mad. He owned the land and the house – why in God’s name did he need permission to add a room? He could understand that they’d want to check the electrical installation and make sure Charlie didn’t fry his nuts off when he flipped on a light switch, but permission to build in the first place? Even if he did wire the place like a deathtrap, that should be his own problem and no one else’s, but he consented based on the fact that he didn’t want some idiot neighbor of his creating a fire hazard, setting his house on fire and then burning down Charlie’s along with it. So he went for the permit.

  In the interest of getting all of the facts out up front, Charlie told the clerk what he intended to build, what materials he was going to use and who would be doing the labor. After answering questions for fifteen minutes, he was given multiple applications, wage forms, inspection requests, material safety data sheets, pesticide requirements, Social Security withholding forms, an environmental impact questionnaire, immigration affidavits, and so on, until he finally just said to hell with it and stormed out.

  “It’s a special kind of shithead that wants to be a government employee, son. There are builders in life, and there are destroyers. There are artists and there are vandals. There are people who add to the world and people who take away from it. People who make you feel good when they walk into a room, and people that just make you want to leave when they show up. Every single shithead who works for the government belongs in the latter of those groups. And they all dream of being bigger and badder tyrants than they are in their current position. They want to rule over people – impose their will, and stop dreamers from achieving anything because they themselves are incapable of creating anything and they despise those who can and do.”

  Unlike listening to Dr. Fielding, when Charlie went off on a rant, Deron felt like he was in for a treat. Charlie told the truth. He was smart and he’d been around for a long time and Deron trusted that everything Charlie said was the absolute truth. And unlike most people, Charlie would even state that he could be wrong. Charlie told Deron to beware of government employees – including everyone employed at his school. Not the laborers like the janitors or lunchroom employees and landscapers, but anyone in teaching or administration – watch out for them. Especially administration. Every petty tyrant in government started somewhere, and schools were government institutions that attracted shitheads just like any other government institution.

  Deron thought about the fact that when he was taken by the DEO officers, the librarian certainly had no problem pointing him out and watching him be led away. And for those men to have been on the school grounds, they had to have checked in at the admin building, so that meant the school officials were aware of and approved of what they were doing.

  “Shit, by its nature, will stick to other shit, and it doesn’t mind the smell,” Charlie had said. Deron laughed out loud when he recalled this, and Dr. Fielding abruptly stopped what he was saying.

  “Do you find this amusing, Deron? Does the idea of making the world better for everyone sound foolish to you? Would we be better served by just letting the civilized amongst us fall victim to the sociopaths as we’ve done all throughout history? Or better yet, you can explain to me in your own words just what it is about our goals that makes you chuckle.”

  “I was just remembering something,” Deron responded. “But now that you’re actually asking for my input – I think it’s fine if you want to make the world a better place and you want to eliminate crime and all that – but what does any of this have to do with me? I still have no fucking clue what I’m doing here.”

  Dr. Fielding winced at Deron’s profanity. He stood up and walked toward the eQuarium as he formulated an answer to Deron’s question. “Well, as I was saying, behaviors are learned. And though the age-old question of nature vs. nurture has never been scientifically resolved, it has been proven that even if a person is born a sociopath, which I doubt, by the way, that doesn’t mean they can’t be made worse through experience. Conversely, and more importantly for our purposes here, that doesn’t mean they can’t be made better.

  “The key is in modifying their thought processes as well as their internal reward system early enough - before they reach the point of no return. And that’s precisely where you come in, Deron. There is still hope for you.” With that, Dr. Fielding turned and beamed his brightest smile at Deron.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind? Is that what this is about? You think I’m a sociopath and you’re gonna cure me? What the hell makes you think–”

  “Slow down, Deron. Let me explain.”

  “I’m not a criminal and I don’t get off on hurting people. If anyone here is psychotic, it’s you!”

  “Deron, please listen to me. I’m not saying you’re psychotic. What we have managed to do here is identify precipitation markers that give us the ability to identify those who are at risk of becoming anti-social to a criminal degree, but who have not yet become criminal. You are not a criminal, Deron – and with experimental treatment, psychological reconditioning, and behavior modification therapy, we can keep you from ever becoming one.”

  Dr. Fielding stood there smiling and looking at Deron, waiting for Deron to see how wonderful this was going to be. Deron was momentarily speechless now that he knew why they had taken him, and what they were going to do to him. And since they were wrong about him being pre-sociopathic or whatever, he could conceivably be here forever as they tried to change him from something he wasn’t into what he already was – a normal, non-criminal, teenaged boy.

  Now he needed to think. He had to figure out a way to escape from here, and since they would undoubtedly come looking for him, he’d have to hide and stay hidden or get very far away. He couldn’t believe this day.

  He controlled his outrage and anger. He wanted to scream and curse and smash the eQuarium since there were no windows, but he knew at the instant he felt these urges, acting on them would merely prove Dr. Fielding right. Any anti-social behavior on his part would confirm the doctor’s suspicions about him, so he was determined to be as social as possible until he exited this building.

  He tried to
think fast in terms of cooperation. How would Dr. Fielding want him to respond? What’s the best he might be hoping for? Dr. Fielding was still looking at Deron with the unspoken question “Well?” still on his face. Deron decided he’d start off with something truthful.

  “I don’t know what to say. This is so… unexpected, and I guess it actually is a good thing, and I’m… relieved. Yeah. It’s such a relief after not knowing all this time what was going on and what I was doing here, and now I see that all along you were only planning on helping me.”

  “Yes! That’s right, Deron! We have nothing but the best of intentions for you – and ultimately, for all of society.” Looking at the time, he saw that he’d missed a meeting, but it was worth it. He was actually making progress with Deron.

  “I see that now. I apologize for the way I was earlier. I just… didn’t know.”

  “Of course not, Deron, and no one would hold that against you. It is a bit of a shock to be abruptly removed from one’s normal routine and environment. Our experiences, and dare I say mistakes today will go a long way toward improving our procedure with subsequent candidates. Forgive us for learning as we go. You are, after all, part of our first group of candidates.”

  “So, my mom knows about this? Can I call her? I’d like to see her and my grandfather and let them know I’m okay and everything is going to be fine.”

  Dr. Fielding glanced away at the mention of Deron’s mom. His permanent smile finally seemed to have lost its adhesion for a moment. The DEO committee who approved the rehabilitation program had decided that the interests of society were greater than the interests of a single parent and had deemed parental approval to be a mere formality.

  “Yes, yes, Deron, we’ll get to that. We still have much to do to get you settled in, oriented, and prepared for your treatment. It would be a bit premature and unproductive to worry about scheduling visits at this early stage.”

  “Right. I forgot. I haven’t even been here that long. But my mom does know I’m here, right? Otherwise, she’ll be expecting me home from school and will think something has happened to me.”

  “We’ve had people in contact with your mother today, Deron. I assure you she will not be worrying. Not in the least.”

  Dr. Fielding didn’t know yet if the parents of the first group of teens had consented, or if they’d been deemed criminals for failure to consent, and thus been shipped to the penal island. Once again, he lost his purchase on his game-show host smile for just a second or two and quickly restored it. He was not as successful though at restoring eye contact with Deron and kept looking over at the digital fish.

  Deron knew he was being lied to, but didn’t know exactly how. He could only guess that maybe they lied to his mom and told her he’d been arrested or that he was mentally ill and had been committed. Deron felt a new surge of anger well up inside of him at the thought of his mother relaying to Charlie that Deron was in jail or in a mental hospital. It would break Charlie’s heart. Charlie was the one person who really loved Deron and cared about him. Deron had never had a father, but he had Charlie, and Charlie was better than his father ever could have been.

  He realized that his plan of acting like a perfect citizen with no anti-social issues wasn’t going to work for the long term. After all, wasn’t that one of the characteristics of the anti-social personality – the chameleon-like ability to charm and schmooze and get along with anybody? Deron suddenly knew that the longer he was here, the harder it would be to get out, or to prove that he wasn’t anti-social.

  Dr. Fielding turned to the eQuarium again with his hands behind his back, fingers interlaced as if he had just shown a child ‘This is the church and this is the steeple. Open it up and see all the people.’ “Well, Deron. Now that you see the goal of our institution and realize we’re not in the business of—”

  Dr. Fielding heard the shattering of glass before he felt the impact of the water pitcher against the back of his head. Semi-conscious, he dropped to the ground and his blood quickly seeped into the plush beige carpet. He stared up at the digital fish with his glassy eyes and his mouth opening and closing, trying to form a word – unaware that at that moment he looked very much like the fish did.

  Deron felt his whole body shaking with adrenaline. His mind raced. What to do next? Keys. He needed Fielding’s keys. Or key card. Whatever it was. He also needed to come up with a plan for getting past the guard in the lobby. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. When he had seen Fielding standing with his back to him, he looked at the glass pitcher and it was like the idea suggested itself to Deron, and Deron executed it. He didn’t really have a plan at all.

  He was surprised the guard hadn’t come bursting through the door already. The office must be soundproofed. Well, that gave him an idea. Get the guard to come rushing through the door. He’d look down at Fielding and then Deron could hit him in the back of the head too. He looked around the office for another weapon. There was a stone paperweight on the desk, but if the guard looked at Deron’s hands, that would be too obvious.

  He thought of a better idea. He opened the door and started screaming. “Help! Help! You’ve got to help the doctor! I think he’s having a heart attack!” He stood in front of the doorway blocking the view to Fielding’s body behind him. He heard the guard running toward him. Deron tried to sound scared and frantic. “You’ve got to help him. He just fell down and dropped the pitcher he was holding! Help him, please!”

  “Step aside!” Deron did so and the guard went past him and looked down at the doctor. He bent down and reached his hand toward the doctor’s neck to check for a pulse since the doctor was not moving and didn’t appear to be breathing. As soon as he bent over, Deron put his right foot low on the guard’s back pushed forward as hard as he could. He immediately thought that maybe he shoved too hard. The guard went toppling forward, tripping over the doctor’s body, hitting his head on the wall and dropping to the floor.

  With the door unlocked now and the guard on the ground, Deron grabbed the doctor’s elevator key and ran out the door, and down the hall. He went around the security desk and over to the elevator. He touched the letter G on the panel.

  The elevator doors opened on the much larger ground floor lobby. This one had a fountain in the center and miniature palm trees like the first lobby he’d seen. There was also a crescent shaped counter like the one on the ninth floor, only much larger. There were chairs for three people behind this one, but only one was occupied.

  Deron burst out of the elevator and ran to the counter, shouting, “You’ve got to help. Dr. Fielding needs you on the ninth floor. He and the guard were fighting. The doctor told me to find help and call the police. Quick! You’ve got to go up there and help him. I’ll call the police!”

  The guard looked frozen in disbelief. He stared at Deron then looked at the elevator, then at his security console to see if there were any alerts. There weren’t. He asked, “What did you say?”

  “We don’t have time! The doctor needs you, dammit! Get to the ninth floor as fast as you can, and take your gun out. The guard up there went crazy and the doctor needs help before that guard kills him. The ninth floor. Go!!”

  The guard looked unsure of what to do. He’d never had any problems in the short time he’d been employed here, and now this. He decided that it would be easier to explain why he left his station than why he failed to help the doctor if what this kid was saying was true. He got up and ran to the elevator. Deron said into the phone. “I have an emergency. Please send an ambulance and police to the address I’m calling from.”

  The guard heard Deron talking and realized this was actually happening. He pushed a button and the elevator doors closed.

  Deron dropped the handset and ran through the lobby, around the fountain and toward the glass doors. He pushed one, then the other, but neither one opened.

  As he fumbled again through Dr. Fielding’s keys, he heard the ding of the elevator open behind him. He turned around to see who would emerge. The guard h
e’d thought had just went to the ninth floor came back out and pointed something black at Deron as he walked toward him. At first, Deron thought he was just aiming a strange gun at him, but the closer the guard got, the more sick and dizzy Deron felt.

  By the time the guard reached within ten feet of him, Deron collapsed to his knees and began drooling. The guard continued pointing the weapon at Deron until he passed out.

  Twenty

  Charlie refolded the note and put the envelope back under the Stephen King book with the corner just barely sticking out the way he had found it. He thought of young love and he smiled. Just finding Deron’s letter to Michelle eased Charlie’s fears. He wasn’t certain that Deron was with the girl who had stolen his heart, but it was possible so Charlie stopped imagining worst-case scenarios as he left Deron’s room and headed back to the living room.

  He decided he’d wait here a while to see if Deron would come home soon. He sat down on the living room couch, swiveled to the left and lifted his feet up onto it. If Kathleen came home first, she’d gripe about him lying on the couch with his shoes on so he kicked them off.

  He adjusted a fluff pillow behind his head and closed his eyes. With his mind on budding romance, he recalled the girl who had once owned his heart. He shut out a momentary flash of heart-ache as he inevitably recalled her murder during the early stages of The War. He pushed past that memory to a much better time and place when he had first met Elizabeth, and drifted off to sleep.

  ***

  After the bus stopped at what seemed like every possible place that it could on the way to her own stop, Michelle couldn’t believe it when her turn finally came. She touched the stop request sensor and wished she could wrap herself in the newspaper. It would make more sense to hold it behind her as she walked to the front of the bus since that’s the direction all of the passengers were facing, but she felt stupid enough already and didn’t want to look ridiculous as well as slutty.