Dystopyum (The D-ot Hexalogy Book 1) Page 5

  Martha went to the front door, and opened it for her guests. “Well how do you do, birthday girl? Happy birthday, sweetheart,” she said to Rebecca as she gave her a big smile and a bigger squatting hug.

  “Thanks Auntie Martha,” said Rebecca, smiling and hugging back. Rebecca surprisingly gave Martha a quick little peck on the cheek.

  “C’mon in, Salom! It’s getting cold out there,” said Martha. It looked like Salom was shivering, but that was not unusual for her anyway, especially these days.

  “Thanks for having us over Martha, it will help Rebecca to get out of the house tonight,” said Salom.

  Yes, and I’m hoping this will make it easier on you, Salom, thought Martha. Hais was out and about. They expected him to stop by Griswolt and Martha’s house when he came home. I just know he’s going to ruin it, Martha thought to herself about Hais. She smiled at Salom, “Well let’s go downstairs where it’s cozy.” She proceeded to lead the way to the living room.

  Griswolt was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on a glazed gendra inner layer rump roast that had been cooking in the oven, and it smelled delicious. He had prepared it with a salty injection, and a coat of a sweet yama fraction called “sok”. He added butter to the sok, and it looked, smelled, and tasted delightful. He had the hydrogen oven going on high, happy to test their new hydrogen extraction unit.

  Griswolt was not ambivalent about this evening, even with the brave front. He was fighting his deep concern for Martha and Jan. He was alone in the kitchen, talking lowly to himself. “Everybody with children has to go through this, and most of them are alive, aren’t they?” Even though covert, the effects of Martha’s love had manifested, and he was beginning to doubt the wisdom of love-deprogramming school. Griswolt had been gaining a reputation as a softie at work. He sometimes complained, as most husbands did about their wives, that Martha coddled their son too much. “He’s turning soft.” Griswolt would often say to Martha. “You’ve got to be tough. Don’t be afraid to punish him.” Martha would always respond that Jan never did anything worth punishing. He was a good kid, plain and simple. It just happens sometimes. Regarding the school, Griswolt was primarily concerned about Jan. He redirected his thoughts, aptly shrugging it off, and loudly declared the rump to be royally roasted, followed with a hearty, “Let’s eat!”

  Rebecca was ready to eat. She had become so well-conditioned that she now became hungry by simply walking into Jan’s house, even if she had no appetite in the first place.

  Martha continued the momentum during dinner, keeping everyone engaged and talking. She was very happy, not thinking about tomorrow at all. This turned out so nice, thank God, she thought.

  As dinner was wrapping up, they heard a loud knocking at the door. It was Hais. Griswolt sent Jan up to open the door for Hais. They both came downstairs, and Hais stopped at the entrance to the kitchen where everyone else was still sitting. He looked like he was swaying a bit. He was obviously observing the aromas of the room.

  Griswolt asked, “You want some roast, Hais? It turned out great.”

  Hais looked at the food, mesmerized by it, but his pride held him back — it was the chip on his shoulder. “No thanks, I ate already.” He kept looking at the food, though.

  “Well come on over and have a seat anyway, Hais,” Griswolt said.

  Hais obliged, and sat down on an empty seat at the table. There was a brief uncomfortable silence.

  Martha needed to keep the positive track going. “Who wants to play Chino?” she asked, hoping to get the children and Salom into the living room.

  “You got any tuba here?” Hais asked Griswolt.

  Yes, and I’d like to pour it on your head, thought Griswolt. “Sorry Hais, I ran out last week.”

  Hais looked at him skeptically. He glanced at the roast again. “Yeah, I’ll have a slice of that, if you got extra,” he said to Griswolt.

  While Martha and the others left for the living room, Griswolt sliced Hais a piece of roast, and added a portion of yama bread.

  “So how’s work going?” he asked Hais, thinking that small talk shouldn’t hurt.

  Hais remembered his latest frustration with his economic distress. “I’ve been working overtime to make up for Salom’s last job loss. At least she was babysitting. Now she’ll be gone for a month! It’s not much, but I’m going to miss that cash. Stupid rotten love-lovers! If they were wiped out, we wouldn’t have to go through this! I’d like to find and kill them all! Burn them, that’s what I say. Search every home for them, and root them out.” Some of the food he was chewing was now spraying out in front of him.

  Hais quickly finished his snack, and in short time became fidgety. He kept looking towards the living room, and hearing the laughter in there, got up from the table.

  Not good, thought Griswolt. “Where you going?” he asked Hais, but Hais was up and on his way into the living room. Griswolt thought, oh well, I tried, and proceeded to clean the table off.

  They had already started playing the game, and Salom was in the lead. She was laughing, and then she saw Hais come in from the corner of her eye. She turned her laughter down. They all pretended that he was not there as he stood watching the game for a while, still swaying a bit.

  “Oh no, dear,” said Salom when Rebecca rolled a zero. “We should let her roll again, since it’s her birthday party, too.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Just let her have another chance. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?” Hais said, smiling in his sarcastic way. He was leaning against the wall, now. He generally shied away from joining folks, unless it was fellow drunks in the local pub.

  Salom tried to ignore him, but knew he would try again.

  “Never mind, I don’t want to roll again,” Rebecca said, dully.

  “No,” said Martha quietly. “I like Salom’s idea. This is a very special night. She looked up at Hais with great sadness. “They should have whatever they want tonight.”

  Hais was caught off guard by recognition of something in Martha’s eyes — what the…? He quickly averted her gaze by looking down. He started feeling woozy. Out of nowhere, he got angry. “You’re all weak!” he yelled. He stood away from the wall, defiant, trying to think of something else to say.

  Salom saw what was coming, and got up to take him home. I can come back for Rebecca later, she thought. “Hais, dear, let’s go home and rel —”

  “I’m not finished! You all need to hear this!” Hais continued, “We all hate love, but I hate it more than any of you! Salom, you are too soft on this girl, and, well, just look at you!”

  They looked at each other, wondering what he meant.

  “Come on, Hais,” Salom pleaded, this time tugging lightly on his arm.

  “You’re all weak! Love has done this, don’t you see? They shouldn’t allow it at all, even if some babies die! Then we wouldn’t have to go through with this school!” Hais argued, callously pulling his arm back away from Salom. “You all need to be stripped of your love. It has to be beaten out of you!” His voice was shouting now.

  Salom tried once again to get him to go by pulling on his sleeve, and he swung around and punched her, hard, in the left eye.

  Oh brother, here it goes. “Well, I’m ready for school, and I’m ready for you!” Martha roared from behind Hais, as she had positioned herself and was prepared for this. With that, she grabbed the last ten inches of his tail with all her might, and bent it hard backwards on itself so the fifth bone was just about to dislocate from the sixth. Hais tried to escape as expected, and she was ready. She bent and twisted it even more and it cracked.

  Hais dropped to the floor, “OK, OK, let go.”

  “No fucking way!” Martha shouted, and she barked, “Get up!” as she bent his tail even more. He cried out, and submitted.

  Griswolt had just come in to see what the commotion was about, and seeing that Martha had things well in hand, simply stepped out of the way.

  Hais tried to say something to Griswolt. “Griswolt, tell this —
Arggggg, OK, OK, I’m going.”

  Martha forced Hais all the way upstairs, and gave him one more hard shove, directly from his fifth tail bone, which elicited one more big “crunch”, and sent him flying out the door, falling in the gravel in his ignoble departure.

  Hais was groaning on the ground, pain radiating in electrical pulses up his back from the injured tailbone. He slowly got up. Then his face changed. His attitude changed. He wasn’t done yet. He turned around to head back to into the front door and was surprised by Griswolt standing there with his arms crossed, feet relatively wide apart.

  “Just try it,” Griswolt growled. He had enough of this stick and watching Martha at work put him in the mood to do this gendra-ass some violence. I need to unload some stress too, you know, he was thinking to himself. Griswolt was a big Aletian. At nine foot five inches, he was fifteen inches taller than Hais, and at five hundred and sixty pounds, he was seventy pounds heavier.

  Hais looked up at him and with a wave of his hands shot back, “To hell with you all!” He turned around and started for his house, bellowing all the way, “I wish they could stay away longer! I hope they never come back! I’m tired of paying for those ungrateful keesh!” And so, his last night together with his wife and daughter ended.

  Griswolt just shook his head, and went back inside. Martha had already invited Salom and Rebecca to spend the night. At least I can give them one quiet night before — her thought trailed off into that blind spot of the invisible mind where such things must be placed — if they are to remain unseen.

  Chapter Four

  Love-Deprogramming School

  M

  artha was in a fog. Perhaps I’m in shock. She was standing with the other mothers, looking around with her eyes, not turning her head. They were all there at the Temple of the NOV’s love-deprogramming school, which was one of twelve

  such schools place around the country. They were standing outside of the top floor of the building, which in typical fashion was the only floor aboveground. The cold black paint on the building’s exterior did nothing to help allay her fear. As the wind swept to-and-fro, she could catch the scent coming from the building. It was difficult to identify. If anything, the smell reminded her of an old hospital for mentally deficient children and adults she had once visited as a child. The sunny day did not have its usual effect. It gave a surreal aura to the moment — a misplaced disparity. It did not belong here, not today.

  How can I willingly submit to what they are going to do to him? To me? In spite of herself, Martha was hypocritically looking at Jan. Her son stood motionless and quiet with the other five year olds.

  Jan turned his head to look back for her.

  I told him not to look back, she thought to herself in frustration. She looked away. She had told Jan to be tough, to act tough. Show no weakness or it will be that much worse. Martha’s thoughts flitted to the others. What about Salom and Rebecca? They had been split off into different groups upon arrival.

  Martha knew the drill, sort of. Those in charge were looking for emotional people. They were not looking for emotions like rage. They were vigilant for signs of softness, gentleness, tears — anything betraying love or hope. Lingering looks between mother and child made them easy targets.

  When Martha was a child, all love was illegal, before, during, or after childbirth. Because of that, love-deprogramming school had not yet been invented. Love-destruction prison was non-existent as well. Anyone found guilty of the heresy of love was simply executed via DeathBT. The primary concern of the Love’s Epiphany Requirement Network was to remain hidden, and had not deviated in time.

  The NOV suspected, (but hid,) the fact that a large proportion of the surviving babies had mothers who were LERN members. The simple mathematical construct of this was that LERN members would eventually outnumber the non-LERN members. This was unacceptable. The NOV then developed the plan of allowing love to be used in the child’s first five years of life, culminating with love-deprogramming school.

  The guards were cold, showing no emotion. They appeared to be NOV nobility by their calm detachment. Martha tried to look them in the eyes, but ended up just staring at her boots. The chief guard exited the building, walked up, and addressed the twelve mothers in this particular group.

  “You know why you are here,” she said. “Up until this moment you have been citizens of the NOV. You have been protected by the laws of the NOV. That ends for the next four weeks. You are now our property, to bend as we wish. Be prepared. We make no apologies for what we must do to destroy the virus you have in you. We start, now!”

  The plentiful group of guards held guns on the mothers, waiting for a reason to shoot. They were only to hit the legs at this stage. The mothers stood there as the guards went from one mother to the next. Martha watched in revulsion as the first mother was held and beaten on the head by the main guard with a flexible metal device called a “bauger”, until the screaming mother was unconscious. The mothers were petrified, watching as each one’s turn came up. Then the guards then went into faster action.

  Two of them grabbed Martha from behind, and a third one came up in her face.

  She had already given up. She did not struggle, but she kept a toxic eye on him. What’s the use, fucker? The guard had no expression as he raised his hand with his bauger. In the last millisecond, Martha caught a gleam of rage in his otherwise dead eye just as the bauger came down at an acute angle, striking hard on the side of her head with it. Martha screamed, still propped up by the guards. The next blow was muffled, and the next — not noticed at all.

  Martha awoke with a pounding headache, finding herself in a ten by ten foot cell — her home for the next four weeks. As she slowly regained consciousness, she felt the coldness of the room.

  What? Where am I? She realized that she was strapped to a toilet, naked. She woke up in this way — and she was cold in the damp musky room.

  “How heavy is this thing?” The pounding of Martha’s head increased as she attempted to lift her hands to feel what was on her neck, but discovered her arms were bound to her sides. She moved her aching head around, feeling a large heavy object wrapped around her neck. She was barely able to look down at the equally heavy cylindrical devices attached around her wrists and ankles. Her face stared back at her, warped, in the pretty, chromed metal.

  “Well, here we are,” she said to herself with a resigning sigh. “I wonder when the first one will come.” Martha was still slowly regaining consciousness, and pondered the blank white projector screen in front of her. The area was dimly lit with a single small wattage light bulb. The ten by ten foot room she was in was coated with porous ferrist, and looked like it had never been painted or washed. Her space reeked of stale urine and overwhelming body odor. Random screams from various directions startled her. Look at those stains on the walls — they look like old dried blood.

  She searched down more closely, trying to see the devices on her wrists, and traced their wires to another larger unit mounted on the wall to her right. “I guess — GGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAA!” Everything stopped but the pain. Martha’s entire body convulsed and her neck arched back, along with her arms and legs, straining as far as the restraints would give. The twenty thousand volt shock lasted ten seconds. She found herself limp, disoriented. “Oh my God, wh — GGGGGGGGGGG GGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAArrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggg —” She convulsed again with the tetanic contractions, her face contorting into a grimace that had the ghastly look of a broad smile, with eyes that wanted to pop out of their sockets. That session was twenty seconds long, and left her gasping. Just let me breath! Her arm felt like it had been stabbed by something. She looked down, and saw blood coming from the side of her elbow.

  “What have I gotten myself into?” Martha cried out. “How many of these do they do in a day?” she desperately asked the malodorous air, still catching her breath.

  A dispassionate male voice came from a speaker in the room. “When set on random, ten per day, up to seventy per week. Sometimes
more, depending.”

  “Depending on what?” Martha asked aloud, still asking herself. At least the voice sounded reasonable.

  “Depending on if I think you are passing or failing. I have a stake in your successful completion of this school. I am accountable for my record of failures. Failures greatly decrease both productivity, and my chances for promotion. You will pass my class.” What he did not tell her was that he was very experienced, and could “play” a “student” like a finely tuned string instrument. This hot mama was going to pass, but it was going to be his way, and for that, she had to fail — temporarily at least.

  What about Jan? Martha thought, and picturing him in the same state, started sniffling. “GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGgrrrrrrrrrrraaa-aaa aaaaaaaaahhhh!” Her upper lip sprouted blood, snot shooting out of her nose.

  “How dare you cry in my presence?” Her torturer revealed emotion, but then he caught himself and toned it down, “You will learn about tears here.” He hit her with another high surge.

  “GGGGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggg gggggggggaaagaga,” Martha was starting to pass out from lack of air, caused by the spasming. Her muscles were racked with pain. She was barely holding her head up now, in total exhausted agony.

  The four by four foot projector screen lit up in front of her, and caught Martha’s attention. It displayed a picture of a mother tenderly holding her baby. A recording started. It was a female voice. Like the others there, she spoke in the monotone of the royals, “Repeat after me, ‘This is death. This is death. This is death.’ Whenever you receive the electricity, remember this is death. Love is the reason for your pain. Love is the reason for your pain. Whenever you receive the electricity, remember, love is the reason for your pain. What is the reason for your pain? What is the reason for your pain? What is the cause of your pain? What is the cause...?” and so it continued. Countless words, countless repetitions, countless pictures of loving images would continue night and day, with no let up for the rest of her time here.