Salvation Road: Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

by Peter Okeafor

  What’s the mask for? Does it have something to do with “Aqua Boogie?”

  I am in a bare concrete room. The light in the room is being created by burning torches that sit in iron brackets on the wall. There is a small stage with musical instruments.

  “Brother Greer, you are here today for answers,” says Maggot Brain as he walks toward me. The room is empty.

  He lays his hands on my head. He has to stick his fingertips through the bars of the mask covering my head and face. My body is jolted as his fingertips make contact with my skull.

  “Brother Greer, the cage around your head represents your mind—your past. You, my brother, are in a prison. You are lost. Something has shackled your mind and you are lost to who you are. The maggots in your mind must be unshackled and freed. Let the maggots eat the dead ideas and memories of your past away.”

  My body still seems to be shaking. My mind is soupy as incredible currents of energy race throughout my body.

  “Brother Greer, you came for answers and answers you shall get. Somebody put some technology in your brain and body. Wires—they run throughout your brain and body. It’s nanotechnology. The wires in your body enhance your intelligence. The wires around your muscles make you stronger. This is not for your benefit. This is for the benefit of the military. When activated, they control your body and mind. You, in their eyes, are the perfect soldier. An obedient killing machine.

  When was this put inside of you? Your last physical. Your entire platoon received them. The entire platoon was split up and transferred to other units. The bodies of the other Marines rejected the implants. The rejection was catastrophic—those Marines died. You are the only survivor.

  They turned your implant on for a test run. They could not control the data or you. They still do not know what happened. Was it the hardware or a software glitch. They tried to override your actions but they could not.

  You want answers. I hope this helps,” says Maggot Brain as he removes his fingertips from my head.

  “Let’s try and disable this beast.”

  He wheels me around so that I face the stage. He then walks to the stage picks up his guitar and starts to play. His first riffs are more rock oriented than funk. He then quickly tunes his guitar. After the guitar is tuned, he runs to one of the stacks of amplifiers and creates a screeching, wailing sound Jimi Hendrix style. A splitting, ripping pain engulfs my head and body. I scream out in pain. Over and over again he produces more shrill cutting feedback. It feels like my brain and body are being torn apart and yet he continues on. As the pain starts to subside, he segues into the song “Maggot Brain.”

  My mind and body soars as he takes me through the complex emotions of “Maggot Brain.” My mind starts to clear and the pain recedes as he plays one of the greatest guitar solos in music history.

  Various people enter the room and take the stage as he transitions out of “Maggot Brain.”

  “Give me some drums,” says Maggot Brain, as he stops playing his guitar. A heavy-set black man plays the drums.

  “The drums are the heartbeat of it all,” says Maggot Brain. “The heart is your true self. The drums will lead you to your true self.”

  I close my eyes as the drummer plays.

  “The bass is the unity of it all. The bass is the foundation of all that you are,” says Maggot Brain. “Give me some bass, ya’ll.”

  The band breaks into “The Night of the Thumpasorous People.”

  I open my eyes.

  The bass player only has on a loincloth.

  “And the horns—that is the clarion call,” says Maggot Brain. “The horns will lead you to your true calling. Hit me horns.”

  And the horns start to play.

  The pounding bass of “Night of the Thumpasorous People” reverberates throughout the room.

  And then he appears… Uncle Jam.

  He has on white pants, a long white fur coat, a white cowboy hat, and some crazy rainbow colored sunglasses.

  He struts and preens around the stage, wagging his tongue like a dog.

  The band starts into “Funkentelechy.”

  Uncle Jam then recites the opening lines from “Mommy What’s a Funkadelic.”

  “So, now you have it, Brother Greer. You wanted answers—you got your answers, yeah.”

  “Sit back and relax and let the funk wash it away. Close your eyes and fly. Let the funk flow through you.”

  “Too many are chasing the pleasure principle. Too many seek cheap, short-term solutions for long-term problems. People look everywhere else except the funk. The funk—it will move your mind, body and soul.”

  The band is gyrating and dancing in all kinds of crazy ways. It seems to be random—complete funky chaos but there is a unity to the so-called madness.

  “What’s behind door number three? Funk. What’s behind door number four? More funk. When it comes to funk, the price is always right—you just have to embrace it, dance with it.

  The many dancers are enraptured in the laid back groove of “Funkentelechy” and Uncle Jam’s smooth rap.

  “Funk is a non-profit organization—it is there for everyone. You can have funk your way. Just free your funky mind and your true self will follow…”

  A peace settles over me. For the first time in a long time, I feel a peace within. I am ready for the next step. I am ready to find Chantay. I can do this, I say to myself as the band plays on.

  “Maggot Brain,” “Night of the Thumpasorous People,” and ‘Funkentelechy,” healed the physical damage of the implants and negated the implants domination over me. The band closed with “I Call My Baby Pussy.” Later, I would realize this closing song was a catalyst for the unification of my body and the technological implants. Removal and separation were not an option. Removal of the tech from me meant death. So slowly, me and my implants would make peace with one another.

  Chapter 5

  I look tired. Look at those eyes. I guess shaving helps a little bit.

  Who gives a fuck if I look tired. I am a former Marine not some damn New York City model.

  I need to find Chantay and my parents. I think I am finally ready to talk to them.

  What Maggot Brain did at Trombipulation really helped. I finally have answers. I can now give my loved ones some sort of explanation. No explanation will truly suffice, but I do have something to tell them.

  What is that? The faint sounds of “Adore” by Prince drifts through the vents in my room. I hope someone is getting their money’s worth.

  The phone rings and I pick it up.

  “Mr. Greer, is that you?” asks a computerized voice.

  “This is Ripley. What’s up Blue?”

  “The sky,” replies the computerized voice.

  “Oh, so now you have jokes.”

  “I try. You need to lighten up, ha-ha, you need to laugh a little.”

  “Blue, you know I have a lot going on.”

  “Yes, you do. Do you have any more questions for me?”

  “Yes, Octavia told me there are many magical pockets of cities like this associated with our Earth.”

  “Yes, there are other cities. Suffragette City is very rooted in American culture despite the fact that David Bowie who performed the song is British. Each grouping of generations seem to form their own magical enclaves. People of America who had things to work out in the early half of the 1900s formed Steel City. The people from the second half of the 1800s formed Junction City.

  “Interesting. So the magic here in Suffragette City used to be in the old world?”

  “Yes. They now call that old magic fairy tales and myth. The Greek and Roman god’s were real. Their feats were not exaggerated. As a matter of fact, the myths understate their true powers. They weren’t gods though. As you can see, now, they were ordinary people like yourself.”

  “Yeah, I kind of get that.”

  “Are you ready for your next mission?”

  “Yes. Where am I going?’

  “To Dreamboat Annie’s on Salvation R
oad.”

  “OK, and who is that associated with?”

  “The Seattle rock band Heart.”

  “Matters of the heart—the rock band Heart—that makes sense.”

  “Yes, it does,” Computer Blue responds. “Mr. Greer, are you experiencing a little culture shock from being exposed to different types of music?’

  “No, not really. Growing up a Prince and P-Funk fan I listened to everything because they listened to and played a little bit of everything. Being in the military did not hurt. You are in close quarters with a lot of people from different backgrounds and you are forced to listen to a little bit of everything.”

  “Yes, you had better preparation for The City than most people. Music is still way to segregated in the old world.”

  “Yes, it is,” I agree.

  For some reason, I was able to get in quickly to Dreamboat Annie’s. Computer Blue really knows how to work the system here in The City. I am glad I was able to catch up with James “Shoot to Thrill” Biederson. He delivered my .357, M-9 and BC-41. Biederson was skeptical about being able to find the BC-41. I wonder if Computer Blue helped in the search for the BC-41.

  I sit before Cassie “These Dreams” Michaels, Andrea “Dog & Butterfly” Fuller and Michelle “What About Love” Reiselgaard. They are all young, shapely, attractive and blond.

  “So, you want to make amends with your ex here in The City?” asks Cassie.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I reply. They do have an air of authority about them even though they seem to be harmless.

  “And what is the name of your ex?” asks Andrea.

  “Chantay Richardson.”

  “And what is the situation of your break-up?” asks Cassie.

  “Well,” I say as my mouth goes dry. “I… It’s a long story, but… I murdered my girlfriend. I was told she is here. I want to explain to her what happened.”

  Their neutral expressions change and not for the better.

  “I know how this sounds but I had something put in my head by the Marine Corps. The technology was put in my head without my knowledge. The wires or computer went haywire and I murdered my girlfriend and parents. I didn’t even know. I didn’t believe it happened until the military showed me all of the evidence. If you don’t believe me you can talk to Marva at Anotherloverholenyohead or Maggot Brain with the Maggot Nation.”

  “This is a little far-fetched,” says Michelle. She is taller than her other friends. “I could maybe believe something like this happening here but not in the old world.”

  “I have paperwork from the military if you want to look it over.”

  “Yes, we do want to look it over,” says Cassie. “We’ll give it a very thorough reading. We will also talk to Marva and Maggot Brain.”

  “I welcome that,” I respond.

  “I assume you have your information with you?”

  “Yes,” I respond.

  “Hand it over.”

  I comply.

  I am in a little closet of a room while they go over my file and conduct their investigation. There are no windows so I have no real idea about how long it is taking. They took my phone so I have no way of reaching Computer Blue. They may not be happy but I am sure they will give me the benefit of the doubt since I paid 7,500 credits to get this expedited session. Computer Blue seems to have access to an endless amount of credits.

  My stomach is roiling and tied up in knots. I have to consciously calm my mind as my body starts to tremble uncontrollably. I feel strongly that I will soon have my face to face meeting with Chantay. The meeting may not go well but it must happen.

  I always liked the band Heart back in the day in their mid-80s phase with their power ballads. I am hoping they can keep an open mind as they investigate my case.

  Suffragette City is a very unsettling place. I will be glad when I wrap up what I have to do and get out of here. It is a fascinating place. It is both spiritually powerful and very dangerous.

  But, I need to be here. I no longer have any idea of who I am and who I need to become. Suffragette City will offer answers that can help me. I need the answers in order to successfully navigate my journey. I will continue to be in this no man’s land until I have answers.

  I sit in the same living room in the converted house. It’s a one-story, three bedroom wood house. One new woman has joined the session. She is a tall brunette who is strangely attractive with harsh features.

  “I am Stansia “Heartless” Altaross. I was called in to offer a different perspective on your case. Ms. Richardson will be contacted if I deem your case is worthy. I am representing her interests in her steed. You have to admit that the facts of your case are to say the least, unusual. You did not have a regular break-up.”

  “No, we did not. How can you represent her interests if she has no knowledge this is going on and you have never met her?”

  She gives me a condescending look.

  “This session is the beginning not the end. If I say it is fine to continue on, the process will go forward. If I don’t feel your case is worthy of progressing, it will stop. Right now, everything rests on our investigation and how you answer my questions. When and if Ms. Richardson is brought in, we will hear her side and make a determination.”

  “This could turn worse for you when we talk to Ms. Richardson. We may hear her story and if she desires she may sanction actions of revenge against you,” says Cassie.

  “I see. I’m fine with that. I hope that’s not the outcome, but if she wants revenge, I’m fine with that.”

  “You say that now but you won’t think that when we’re done with you,” says Stansia.

  “Are you ready?” asks Cassie.

  “Yes.”

  “We completed our investigation and we are fine with moving your case forward,” says Cassie. “In some way, the three of us are your advocates.”

  “So, you had no memory of this until you were detained by the military?” asks Stansia.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “I am not sure. I am here looking for answers myself.”

  The other women are dressed in white, red and black. Stansia only wears black.

  “So I see you went to Anotheloverholeinyohead and Trompibulation. How did those visits go?” asks Stansia.

  “Marva Anderson confirmed that I did commit the murders. She helped me relive those awful moments. ‘Maggot Brain’ helped me to understand the nanotechnology in my brain and body. He deactivated it so that the terrible headaches would go away.”

  “Why are you finding it so hard to believe that you committed the murders?”

  “Because I have no memory of those horrible acts and I had no reason to kill any of them. I loved Chantay, my mother and my father very much. I needed corroborating evidence because I still can’t believe I committed those awful acts. I am not sure I’ll ever be able to understand how I did those things.”

  “Well, I did talk to Marva and officials with The Maggot Nation,” says Stansia. “They support what you have told me. Your case is very troubling to me. I don’t understand how you could do such heinous acts. What is even more unsettling is that you don’t understand how you could do such things either. I don’t know if your agreement with me is good or bad. It shows that you have remorse and that there was some sort of psychic break in your personality. What is very troubling is you had no control over your actions and thus, there can be no real accountability. That is, of course, if your explanation is true.”

  “There can be accountability. I am willing to do or endure whatever Chantay says or wants. And I am telling the truth.”

  “But is that ethical. If you had no control over your actions, if that truly is the case, should you be punished?” asks Cassie.

  “If punishment is her desire, then yes. I took three lives. Why, I don’t know. Harm was done whether I willed it or not. If some sort of punishment is needed, I am more than willing to take my medicine.”

  “That is admirable of you,”
Stansia says as a look of disgust comes over her face, “but be careful, what you ask may be more than you can bear.”

  “I will take whatever I have coming.”

  “We’ll see about that,” says Stansia.

  I have just finished a dinner of beef stew, white bread with butter and a salad when Stansia comes into the little concrete room in the basement of Dreamboat Annie’s.

  “After much thought, I have decided to contact Ms. Richardson and hear her side of the story. I must admit to you that I think you may be telling the truth. My ex-boyfriend in the old world joined the army right out of high school. He left a nice sweet young man from a small town in Nebraska and came back a total asshole. Needless to say, our relationship did not last. Nonetheless, I am willing to let Ms. Richardson hear your side, have her say, and decide how she wants to proceed. What happens to you is ultimately in her hands.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you still want to go through with this? You can walk away with no penalty.”

  “If I walk away, my trip here will be wasted. I want to continue on with this process.”

  “OK, your will is noted,” she says as she gets up from the folding steel chair and heads for the door.

  “You are not allowed to leave this room until the process is complete,” she says.

  “I understand.”

  “Good, someone will come get you when the next step in the process is ready to commence.”

  “Thank you.”

  I watch her leave. It is cold and quiet in this basement. But I am one step closer to fulfilling my purpose here. I am in a prison so to speak. All I have in this little room is a cot for sleeping, a card table, a toilet and small cheap shower stall, and paper and pencil. At least I have paper and pencil. Maybe I will write a letter explaining everything to Chantay. Then, again, writing anything out would be an act of cowardice. I need to talk from my heart, not some written script. Oh, well, I will think of something else to write. Writing can keep my mind sharp.

  My stomach starts to churn. I dart over to the toilet and expel the dinner I had just eaten. It is the third time I have vomited today.