Dystopyum (The D-ot Hexalogy Book 1) (4 page)

There were rumors in LERN that high-level members were planning a
mass escape into the wildlands. They did not yet have the vaccines for
those areas. The NOV could barely keep up with the vaccines in their own
national territories. The hundred-year self-replicating viral poison did not
mutate away after the hundred years were up, as was supposed to happen.
The NOV had released it in order to kill all other D’otians on the planet.
Because of it, they had wiped out the other three entire race/nations. For
one hundred years now, the NOV was the only nation still in existence on
D’ot. The process of producing the vaccine involved hundreds of
specially guided mutations of yama cells. It took almost twenty years of a
steady string of controlled mutations in order to produce the vaccines.
This was to the NOV’s great advantage. All other nations were caught off
guard, and there was no way for them to have the time to produce their
own vaccines. The NOV had proven their “superiority”, for the final time.
“Yes Mama, let’s all run away!” Jan said, so excited at the answer to
this terrible problem they were facing. He started jumping up and down,
clapping his hands.
Martha was heartbroken, looking at him.
I have to tell him.
“Jan, we
can’t run away. I would love to, but there is no place we could hide for
long. The bad police would find us, and then it would all be over.”
She abruptly had a flash of inspiration, and her expression changed,
trying to cheer him up in any way possible, “We can get through this, Jan.
Everyone you see that is older than you has made it through, and you can
too! Then, we will run away someday! I know people who are planning
that right now!”
Martha studied Jan, to see if he was buying it, and continued, “So,
you see, you just have to hang in there, and you’ll get through it — then
we will all be able to leave someday and be happy!”
Jan smiled. Then the smile faded. “But we still have to get shocked?”
Martha just sat there, not wanting to say it again, when Griswolt
arrived home from work, and was coming through the kitchen. Martha
gave Jan the look he knew all too well, “No more of this, we’ll talk later.”
Jan protested, “But I want to know more! I want to —” Martha
pinched his shoulder, cutting him off — a sure sign to shut up.
Griswolt walked in, saw the exchange, and asked, “He wants to know
more about what?”
Martha looked up at Griswolt, and replied, “He’s asking about lovedeprogramming school. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
It was certainly a subject that Griswolt was loath to walk in on, especially after a long day at work. He just grunted, and went back to the
bedroom to change out of his uniform.
Martha was relieved Griswolt had dropped the subject so easily. It
would be all too easy for Jan to let something slip about the scope of his
understanding of love, and that could make Griswolt suspicious. He was a
solid NOV party member, climbing professionally and socially. Any hint
of Martha’s participation in the LERN would have likely sent him straight
to the police. Anything less was suicide, and an ugly one at that,
compliments of DeathBT.
Martha whispered, “We will talk after dinner,” and sent Jan off to his
room. She then went into the kitchen to prepare the leg of splint she had
bought on the way home from work. The yama bread was still fresh, and
she always had a seasoned yama-extract tea brewed for after dinner as
well.
Dinner was pleasant, and delicious, according to Griswolt. He even
gave Martha an NOV appropriate term of endearment, “I approve of
you,” after dinner. She returned the compliment, with her cheeks feeling
warm under her scales. He gave her a look that said that they would be
staying up a little later than usual.
Afterwards, they were relaxing in the living room listening to the
radio. Griswolt always needed to check the news, even though it was
mostly NOV lies. “Well, I have to know what people are lying about
don’t I?” Griswolt would answer Martha when she brought up the
obvious agenda and bias of the “news”. He would go on, “If everybody
believes the lies, then they become our reality. It gives me something to
anchor to politically, whether true or not.”
After a little while, Martha said, “I’m going down to Jan’s room to
clean up. Do you need anything?”
Griswolt was concentrating on the latest story of a big LERN bust,
and just waved her away as if to say, “Don’t bother me now.”
Martha went downstairs to Jan’s room. It was a well-lit room, larger
than a child really needed. His numerous posters cheered the room, all
very colorful. They were taped to the same light-green painted walls as
upstairs. Jan had created most of them a while ago when he was in
daycare. She went over to him, as he was busy drawing a picture of a
yeta.
The yeta was the “king of the wildlands”. A full-grown yeta would
stand over ten feet tall when upright. They traveled in packs of two or
three, occasionally more. It looked like a big skinny tack, but could walk
upright on its muscular hind legs, and it had two front arms that sported
strong claws that could grip its prey as it tore into them with its massive
jaws and teeth. These were a real prize for both amateur hunters and
professional NOV Hunters, but were only found deep into the wildlands.
To hunt there, hunters had to wear special masks and environmental
hunting suits to avoid the lingering mutations of the hundred-year poison
in those areas.
She sat down on the bed beside Jan. He had been quietly working on
his drawing, and had calmed down. She took a breath, steadied her voice,
and gently asked, “Are you ready to hear what is going to happen?”
Jan did not stop drawing, and didn‘t look up either. He shrugged his
shoulders. “Yes, I guess so.” He already knew.
“If you can fool them, they will only shock children once a week.
That’s just four times…and they also turn down the electricity for you.”
“They said that at day care, and it still hurt,
really
bad.” Jan stopped
drawing, still looking at the picture.
Martha felt it welling up.
Don’t cry! It’s the last thing you need right
now!
She bit her lip. She did not know exactly what to say next, when Jan
piped up.
“Why, Mama? Why do they have to do this to us?” He looked up at
her. “Why?”
Oh no!
She couldn’t stop it. The tears came streaming forth from her
eyes, rolling off her face onto the bed. She took one of Jan’s leathercloth
undershirts lying on the bed and dabbed her eyes with it. “They want to
remove our love. They destroy love,” she choked it out, barely able to
speak the words, sniffing her tears, and gulping her breaths.
Martha, get a
grip! You can’t even talk?
“They can, and will make me forget that I ever
loved you — and you, too.”
Jan was scared, but not as frightened as he could be because he truly
could not understand. He looked at her, confused. “I love you, Mama.
How could I forget that?”
Martha looked at him, with such dear and gentle affection, still sniffing, and then realized the truth. She thought,
the only way to explain this
is for me to tell you that they will make you hate me, and me hate you.
They will smother your love and repress it with terror, hate and rage, and
you will be reborn in the alien womb of the torture rooms.
He has to be prepared. How do I say it? OK, here goes.
She started to
tell him, and opened her mouth to start, but the words would not come
out.
I can’t tell him.
“What can I do?” she wailed aloud.
Jan stood waiting for an answer. So did Martha.
A thought came to Martha. A thought came that lifted her soul for a
moment, and she remembered what she had said before —
he doesn’t
need to prepare, but you do. That’s it!
She thought.
I need to prepare! As
long as I have things set up here at home, I will remember love for the
both of us after it’s through, when we are back home together again. Then
I’ll help Jan to remember!
She felt some relief. “You won’t forget that
you love me, sweetie. Mama will make sure of that — and I will always
love you.”
Martha cradled his small chin in her hand with a tenderness Jan had
not felt in a while. He looked up at her and smiled, and then he climbed
up on her lap, and whispered in her ear, “I’ll always love you, Mama.”
Five more months passed. It was not spoken of in those months, at
least not often, or deeply. Before they knew it, the time had passed.
Both Jan and Rebecca’s birthdays were in this quarter, and the date
had been set for the next starting class, which was tomorrow. Both of
them would be going with their mothers to love-deprogramming school.
Martha greatly desired to have a nice last evening together before they
were all to disappear for four weeks into the bowels of this beast within
the NOV. For now, she had invited Salom and Rebecca to join her family
to celebrate Jan and Rebecca’s fifth birthdays together.
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.