Dystopyum (The D-ot Hexalogy Book 1) Read online

  Knock, knock.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Martha said loudly, and went up the

  stairs. She went to the top of the stairs to open the front door, and standing there was the delivery attendant with Jan. “You!” she spat at Jan. The reality had not sunk in that Jan was truly coming home that day. Martha was still in a post-traumatic shock, and was the polar opposite of being ready for this. She could not bear to look at him, but did notice that he was covered with scabs, like her, from the repeated SE’s in love-deprogramming school. Good, she thought to herself.

  Jan was just staring straight ahead. He now looked as Martha did on the day she arrived at home. He had a stubborn look to his face. It was stone cold.

  The attendant studied Martha, looking her up and down. “Isn’t your husband home?” he asked, looking a bit concerned. He had dropped children off with their “recently graduated” mothers alone before, and twice so far there had been two murders. It was not uncommon. Usually the mother was the killer. Sometimes she would be the victim.

  “My husband is dead,” Martha coldly replied to the attendant. Oh well, the attendant thought, I have to get back. I’ve got three more deliveries today, after this one and the ones in the wagon. It’s not my fault if something happens. He was not required to refuse deliveries of the children to their messed up mothers. He could refuse, but it involved a lot of paperwork. Documents, yes, he thought to himself. He pulled out the release documents, and gave them to Martha to sign. As she was signing them, he asked, “Is there anyone at all home inside?”

  “No,” Martha replied.

  “What about any neighbors?” He asked.

  Salom! What about Salom? Where is she? Isn’t she home? Martha

  looked in the direction of Salom’s house. “She might be home,” she told the attendant. He went over to Salom’s house, but nobody answered the door. When he returned to Martha’s house, all that was there were the signed documents on the porch at the front door. He sighed, shaking his head. They should require me refuse to deliver these kids when it’s bad like this, he thought. It did not matter that it was logical to refuse to leave the child there, or that he had it in his power to do so. What mattered was that he could transmit blame to someone else. That did the trick for his reptilian conscience, and he went back to his wagon. He had two children sitting in the wagon in restraints as well, plus the three still waiting back at school.

  Martha and Jan had gone into the house. Jan resisted at the top of the stairs, so Martha grabbed him by the back of his straight jacket, and carried him down the stairs, throwing him down that last few steps, with Jan spilling onto to the kitchen floor. As soon as he hit the floor, he yelled, “Don’t touch me!” and in his straight jacket, clumsily got up and ran into the living room. Martha immediately followed him into the living room. “You’re a piece of rotten keesh,” she hissed, and then spat on him.

  He was standing there, looking angry and removed. He did not flinch. I can’t stay here with it, she thought to herself. I’ll go crazy. I’ve got to kill it. I can’t live here with it. Her eyes lit up. I’ll drown it. She looked down at him. She sneered at Jan and squawked, “You stink! You need a bath!” She went over to him and bent over to untie him. In her confused, frantic state she was thinking, I can’t drown it with this straight jacket on. They will know it was me. They’ll give me DeathBT.

  Jan struggled against her, but with the straight jacket on, he could not do much to resist. He screamed the whole time, but she got the jacket off. She threw him back down on the floor when he tried to stand up, and screamed, “Stay there!” Martha ran through the home to run the water in the bathtub.

  Now out of the straight jacket, Jan curled up on the living room floor, maintaining his unbreakable mental wall.

  Once Martha had the water running, she came quickly back to the living room. Jan was still there, in a ball on the floor. She marched over to him and said, “Let’s go!” She grabbed him and dragged him towards the bathroom.

  Jan was kicking and screaming, resisting as best he could, but he was emaciated, just as Martha was when she first arrived home.

  Ring…Ring…Ring… Martha ignored the phone as she was wrestling Jan to the bathroom. Ring…Ring…Ring… She had some strength back, but not nearly what she had before. Ring… Ring…Ring… As she pulled him toward the tub, Jan was able to get loose enough to make a run for the door, but she dove for his feet, and caught him, pulling him to the floor. She quickly punched him, hard, in the back, and he stopped for a second. Then she just took hold of his feet, and dragged him to the now full bathtub. She dug her fingers into his arms as she lifted him, and threw him in the water.

  Jan was thrashing, and managed to bite her hand deeply. It started bleeding profusely, and now that it was mixing with splashing water, she knew she could not ignore it. When the police come, they’ll find blood all over the place. There’s no way they’ll believe he did this on his own.

  Ring… Ring… Ring… Martha gave Jan a hateful sneer, and quickly retrieved a towel. He was out of the bathtub now, and curled up again on the floor as she went wrapped her bleeding hand in the towel, and went to the ringing phone. Ring… Ring.. Martha switched the phone off.

  She stood there thinking a moment, then smiled, and then turned the phone on again. Martha called the Temple of the NOV, and asked to be connected with the child-donation department. She smiled again, why didn’t I think of this before? “Hello, yes. I would like to donate my child for the next child-burning ceremony. Yes, he just attacked me, and my hand is bleeding. He is very bad, and I think that sacrificing him to God is the best way now. How soon can you pick him up?”

  The Temple was always happy to take these donations. All they needed was the consent of one parent. I’ll just tell Griswolt that he ran away, she thought. After the arrangements were made, she went back to the bathroom. “You stay right there,” she ordered. I don’t care what he does, now. He’s leaving!

  The Temple of the NOV did not waste time in picking up childburning donations. They wanted to get there speedily make the pick-up — just in case one or both parents changed their minds. If only one parent donated the child, and the NOV already had that child in its possession, it was very difficult to get the child back. If both parents donated the child, it was damn near impossible. The Temple decreed that the children were holy once donated, and thus Temple property. The Temple had peaks and valleys in donations. When they had bigger numbers of children scheduled for child-burning day, they had much larger turnouts. This meant more donations, and promotion of their important faith. Therefore, they advertised the upcoming numbers on the local news.

  Martha went back into the living room. She had a seat on the sofa, and picked up a fashion magazine. She was looking at the pages, but nothing was being read. Her mind was racing with thoughts of the present situation. They said they would be here in an hour. Her pulse was still very rapid. What about Griswolt? Her face turned grim. Fuck Griswolt. This is his fault, too. She continued to pretend to read, even though nobody was there to watch her. Ring… Ring… Ring… Martha got up, went over to the phone, picked up the receiver.

  “Martha!” It was Griswolt, beside himself in worry.

  Martha hung up, and then turned the phone off again. She took a look in the bathroom. Jan was sitting there, still wet, picking at scabs on his arms. “Don’t move!” Martha commanded. She went back to the living room to “read”.

  An hour passed. Where are they? Martha looked at the phone that she had turned off. Maybe they tried to call. She went over to the phone, and switched it back on. Just then, a rapping at the front door startled her. She went up the stairs, and standing there were two temple prostitutes to pick up Jan.

  Temple prostitution was one of the ways for the uneducated to enter the employed services of the Temple of the NOV. There were other career paths for the unskilled — executioners, torturers, maintenance people and guards were common avenues. Once inside the Temple, anyone could pay fo
r the many levels of classes required to continue to be promoted. The faithful were told that anyone could eventually enter the secret inner circle of the NOV. These ones dictated the laws of the NOV, and they were above the central committee. Nobody knew exactly who these people were. When someone was chosen for the inner circle, they simply disappeared without a trace. Since people disappeared all the time, nobody could know who went where, although there were always rumors.

  Martha observed the prostitutes. They don’t look like much. Of course, Jan was still very weak. “Please come in,” Martha said to them. I don’t want to touch him unless I need to. I’ll let them wrestle with him, she thought as descending the stairs. With each step, she felt lighter and lighter. He’s going to be gone! Martha thought with glee. They came downstairs, and Martha signed their documents in the kitchen. She led them into the bathroom.

  One of them was smiling, and coquettishly said to Jan, “Come with us, Jan. We want you to stay with us.” Jan just sat there, on the floor, looking obstinate. They then went over to him, picked him up by each arm, and efficiently carried him out of the bathroom. He continued to hold himself in a tight ball.

  “He’s not kicking. Hmmm,” Martha muttered to herself. “He doesn’t know where they’re taking him.” She watched as they carried him down the hallway, and up the stairs. She listened for the closing of the door. “Whew,” she said. “I did it. He’s gone.” Martha smiled, pleased. She went over to the living room, and turned the radio back on. It was the news. They were talking about developing new vaccines for new areas in the wildlands. The problem was that whenever they started a new expedition, the explorers would fight among themselves, and the expedition would end in failure. Being removed from the fear of the central authority of the NOV brought out the alpha in all the participants.

  “In the next year, we will be able to send our first mission into the far southwest territories. This will give our nation more access to rivers and fish, which are abundant there. In other news, there was small LERN sting in which four members of a local group were arrested yesterday…”

  She got up, and turned the radio off. LERN, she thought with disgust. What a lie! “Those hypocrites left me here, nobody has even tried to help,” Martha said with revulsion. Love is death. Look at Jan — she instantly sat up, tilting her head. Jan — She could say his name now, “Jan.” Still detached, the thought of the child was allowed in, because the threat of what he brought with him was now gone.

  She looked at a game that Griswolt had set out earlier in anticipation of Jan’s return today, sitting in the corner of the room by the radio. She gave a sigh and said, “I don’t have to face him now. He’ll be burnt, and he won’t hurt me anymore, and he won’t hurt anym —” She felt a tear develop. No hope! She sniffed it up, and there were no more.

  The door slammed upstairs. What? I should have locked the door! “Who’s there?” Martha called out as she was walking to the bottom of the stairs to see what was going on.

  “Me!” bellowed Griswolt, carrying Jan in his arms. He had left work early without waiting for the liaison. He had intercepted the temple prostitutes as they were leaving with Jan, and forcefully taken him back from them. Griswolt glared at Martha as he passed her at the bottom of the stairs, straight into the kitchen. He sat Jan down on one of the chairs. Griswolt turned and said, “Now what the hell —” but was interrupted by Martha’s pushing him out of the way to get at Jan.

  With a scream, she lunged at Jan, pounding him in the face, and grabbing his crest, trying to twist his head as if trying to break his neck. Jan was warding off her blows.

  Griswolt reacted by punching Martha on the back of the head, shocking her. Then he grabbed hold of the collar of Martha’s robe and pulled her backwards, hard, away from Jan.

  As Martha went flying backwards, she twisted and clawed for Griswolt’s face, trying to scratch him. Once she got her bearings, she screamed a battle cry and went after Griswolt, punching and scratching at his eyes.

  This went on for less than a second or two when Griswolt said to himself, “I’ve had enough of this,” and clocked her hard, right on the side of her head, immediately knocking her unconscious. He caught her as she was falling and laid her down on the floor. He quickly glanced at Jan. Jan was focused on the unconscious Martha lying on the floor, and he had the smile of vengeance on his face and in his eyes.

  Creepy, Griswolt thought, and then he went to the bathroom, and opened the brown bag of pharmaceuticals that were for Martha. “There’s one in here, where is it?” he asked himself as he fiddled in the bag of pills and such. “Here it is!” It was a paralyzing narcotic, in liquid form, and it came in a dropper bottle. “What’s it say here?” He said, reading the label. “Given the patient’s weight, give three drops every twelve hours as needed for sedation. To induce paralysis, give six drops every eight hours.” He went back into the kitchen. He found Jan peeing on Martha, and she was starting to awaken. Griswolt pushed Jan out of the way with a loud “No!” He quickly cleaned Martha off, and proceeded to give her the narcotic.

  Griswolt then carried her to the bedroom, and he laid her on the bed. Then he went back to Jan, who was still in the kitchen. We’ll wash her up better later. He was going to give Jan hell for urinating on his mom, but after getting a good look at the mad expression on Jan’s face, Griswolt said to himself, “What’s the point?” He simply had Jan sit there while he wiped up the kitchen floor. Then he sat down with Jan at the table. “I’m really glad you’re home, son, I know it was tough, but it’s over now,” Griswolt said, leaning forward to rub Jan’s crest.

  Jan ducked from Griswolt’s attempt at comforting him, but was otherwise relatively calm with his father.

  They went downstairs into Jan’s bedroom in order to get him into some dry clothes. “I’m going up to make some early dinner Jan, what would you like?” Griswolt asked.

  Jan found himself more at ease around Griswolt — the NOV had not poisoned him against his father. Jan asked, “Can I have a splint egg and toast?”

  Griswolt was heartened that Jan had an appetite, and was talking to him. “Coming right up, son!” he said energetically, and then he asked, “Do you want to play up in the living room while I make your meal?”

  “No, I just want to stay down here for a while.” Jan paused, thinking, concerned. “Is she going to wake up and eat?”

  Griswolt looked at Jan with a sad, heavy heart. It was so nice before — “No, Jan, Mama is going to sleep for the whole night.”

  Jan’s face squeezed into itself, “Don’t call her ‘Mama’!” he spat, with the same ugly look that Martha would develop when speaking of Jan.

  Griswolt sighed with regret, his mind again returning to the last night they were all together before love-deprogramming school. Gone, he thought, with great remorse and longing. Gone. He went up the stairs to the main floor, a little slower, a little heavier, than when he came down.

  When he got upstairs, he went into the kitchen to start cooking. After starting up the stove, he received a phone call from Chark, a friend who had connections in the Temple of the NOV.

  “What? Salom failed? Oh, really — oh no! — oh, that’s horrible — poor Rebecca!” He sighed and said, “OK, thanks for calling.” Griswolt hung up the phone.

  He went back to the kitchen, cracked and put the eggs in the awaiting hot pan. The steam and spurts of the hot lard crackled immediately. Just right. He sighed, repeating what he had heard Martha say, time and time again.

  “How do we stay sane in this world?” Griswolt asked the eggs. They just sizzled their olfactory answer, and that was enough for now. After he was done cooking, he called Jan to come up and eat.

  While dining together on their simple meal, Griswolt had a chance to observe Jan better. His sores looked bad, but they would heal. Why did he get so many wounds? “I’ll bet you’re hungry!” Griswolt said. Jan shrugged, and continued to eat.

  Griswolt wanted to get him talking. He smelled badly, even though at first g
lance the bathroom looked like he had been in the bathtub. The wet clothes Jan was wearing before were a question mark. “Did you take a bath?” He would be sorry he asked.

  Jan dropped his toast, and looked down. “She tried to kill me. She tried to drown me.” He stopped everything, and his face fell to a heart wrenching expression no child should display.

  Griswolt slowly put his hand on Jan’s shoulder. “She’s sick, Jan. I’m sure she will feel terrible about this when she comes to her senses. I’m so sorry, buddy.” He’s not pulling away, Griswolt thought. Maybe there’s hope for one of them, anyway. He sighed and looked in the direction of the bedroom, then sighed again.

  After dinner, Griswolt got Jan started on putting the finishing touches to the set up of the game in the living room, and then he went back to the kitchen to clean up. While in the kitchen, his thoughts kept returning to the way things were before.

  “They have to do this,” he tried to tell himself. “It is necessary for national order. We can’t let the virus of love loose in society. It breeds traitors. It leads to breakdown of discipline. Discipline is necessary to survival and to productivity.” He was merely repeating more Temple dogma, trying to reinforce his alliance with this system within which he was embedded. Still, it did not make him feel much better.

  When Griswolt had finished in the kitchen, he joined Jan in the living room to play the game.

  Jan seemed to forget his pain for a while, and he started to relax a little. Driven from his consciousness, however, happiness was not yet permitted to return.

  It appeared evident to Griswolt that Jan was loosening up.

  “Is Rebecca home yet?” Jan asked.

  Griswolt felt another pull of angst. Rebecca, he thought. What’s going to happen over there, with her mother being sent away for a year? Who is Hais going to keep when the year is up? Rebecca or Salom? One of them has to go. He sighed. The person on the phone earlier told Griswolt that the NOV sent Rebecca home today, just like Jan. I guess Hais was home to bring her in today, he thought with a shrug. He answered Jan, “Rebecca came home today, Jan, just like you.”