The Lover's Parable Through A Seven World Journey (26 page)

As the Security agents took their seats beside him, the door began to close. John felt the dusty breeze of air that entered into the cabin as the men turned back, pulling open the metal sliders, revealing the slits in the walls of the cell that performed the actions of ventilating windows.

The vehicle began to vibrate as the motor revved up. And soon they were in motion. Through the openings that were ventilating the interior, John could see the passing buildings and basket-carrying women speeding by. The horn of the transporter was loud and overbearing. The sensation of motivity was heightening. They were only a mere seconds into the drive when the screams began, and the knocking of bodies off the transporter’s front side could be felt, heavy and
cruel.

The agent in front of him was either sleeping, or staring down at him through his reflective goggles. It was difficult to tell which it was. Already anxiety stricken, John was made all the more uncomfortable by the presence of his faceless escorts.

The ride to their destination was, he assumed, to be at least two hours away, if he understood the Commander’s words correctly. It had been years since he and Sofia had truly been apart. His companion was nowhere to be seen. He wanted to plead for help, not for himself, but for her safety and consoling. Could he ask it of the Savior? Was He listening? A being that actually watched over all the events of the material world, and had an actual hand in its destiny and functions, seemed remotely untenable under the circumstances. How could such hardships be a reality under the hand of such Benevolence, John thought. But there was no other choice. All his options were depleted the moment that the gunner spotted them. Closing his eyes, he began the inner search of
desperation.

“I’m such a weak man,” he said within himself. “If You exist, as it appears You do through our many ventures and their outcomes, please, look upon us once again and help us.”

His words were silent, but sincere. Deep into the pleasure of communing with the Unknown, John subconsciously let his final words break forth from his tongue, “More than myself, please, help Sofia, my love. And let her know that I’m so sorry for what I’ve done to her.”

The particles upon which the vibrations of those words were carried, released from his lips, sailing through the powdery air, wrapping around the dust of the cabin. The turbulent draft threw it wildly about the walls and ceiling, tossing it through a slit-window, where it was captured and borne along by the atmosphere’s fluid matter. Retreating from the transporter, falling under the determinate control of the Savior’s light, it hasted through the streets, filtering through the weavings of the baskets, passing through the throngs of women. It sailed above the blood stained dirt of the roadways and passed through the nostrils of a recently deceased woman, who, to the astonishment of the basket carrying crowds, sat up with a sudden gasp. Piercing through the hairs of their heads and along their children’s exposed skin as they playfully ran through the crowds, it shuttled down the alleys and across the rooftops, over the buildings and through the doorways. Out one window it entered another. Swirling through the many rooms of the makeshift hut, it passed over a stillborn infant held in its weeping mother’s arms, giving a burst of life to the child, who awoke with a sudden cry. Out the door it fled, over the railing, freefalling towards the busy street below, swiftly gliding along the swarming, dirt walkways, causing a glorious uproar as several more women and children awoke in the streets from the slumber of death. It fled from the village, riding upon the waves of the breeze that crossed the green of the flatlands where hundreds of thousands of women were working the fields. It whistled through their veils and the handkerchiefs that wrapped about their heads like a song of joy. It shuttled across their dresses and through the vines. It crossed amongst the leaves and around the dangling branches of the trees, ushering a bursting forth of fruit from the orchard. It wafted across the water-filled channels that brought its life saving fluid to the rich farmlands, streaming towards the dirt road that ran along the flatland’s periphery, chasing the billowing dust that followed a lone vehicle. It raced through its tire driven cloud and around its spinning wheels. Upward it climbed, catching a ride on its armored hull. It sneaked in through its windowed slit, leaping across the shoulder of a Security agent that swatted at an unseen pest. It hopped upon the waving hair and bobbing head of a meditative young woman whose body moved under the influence of the jostling ride. Upon entering into the canal of her ear, Sofia opened her eyes to the voice of John.

The perpetual dripping by an unseen water source kept Sofia in a state of mental numbness, captivated by its hypnotically consistent tapping. Rhythmically persistent, it was like a torturous metronome: precise and unforgiving.

Aglow in the murky flood of a dim, pumpkin-orange light mounted directly above her, the interrogation room was chilled and damp. Its cold, concrete floor sucked the heat from her body through the thin, tender skin of her bare feet.

Stained with the appearance of splattered rust, the drain fitted beneath her metal chair released the same odor that engulfed her earlier in the day when she had entered into the vehicle that had transferred her to her current place of terror. The room was ominously familiar. It held to the same atmosphere that consumed the hallways and classrooms of the Education: isolating and indifferent to the sufferings of its captives.

Attempting to rub away the clear nasal excretions streaming down her nose and dripping off of her upper lip caused her wrist to be met with another painful tug. Sofia was once again reminded of the chains that held her at bay. Bolted to the floor, the frigid chair was unyielding to her struggle against the leather straps that kept her confined tightly against its back.

The walls of the cell were covered over with mirror-like panels that dimly reflected her ghastly figure. The room’s corners were like the blackness of a dark cave, uninviting and terrible. The fearful expression scrawled across her thin face, the hollow skull-like shadows cast upon her eyes, repeated itself over and over again in its layers of reflections. It was a disorienting effect that was partially alleviated by staring at the scant, gray areas of the floor.

Sofia’s back faced the only entrance into the cell: a steel door with a slider that covered a small rectangular window. It was only faintly visible to her in the image on the wall due to the pre-knowledge she had of its existence.

Sofia recalled being led into the room and restrained to the chair. It had been perhaps an hour ago… or, maybe it was two hours… or three. She had lost her sense of time under the degrading treatment that she was being forced to endure. It could have been four or five hours for all she knew.

As she sat alone wondering what was to become of her, the sudden manipulation of the locking mechanism to her back caused her to startle. A metallic rattling echoed throughout the room, as if the lock’s system had been designed with a chain-like structure. Within a few seconds the rust splattered door creaked open.

By the sounds of the footsteps, Sofia knew that she was no longer alone. Several persons had entered in together.

Unable to turn about, coupled with the inability of the faint lamp above her head to illuminate the corners of the room with any facilitative degree, she frighteningly called out, “Is someone there?” But there was no response, only the sound of the dripping of water.

The silhouettes of a small group were faintly visible through their mirrored reflections. Standing in the shadows, the agents had no details to discern of. Even their outlines were quite obscured.

A twinkling, orange light blinked on and off around her image in the mirror, intermittently revealing an empty chair facing at a ninety-degree angle to her left. It was fixed to the floor over a similarly stained drain as hers. The strange apparition was directly in front of her. Yet, it appeared to manifest momentarily, directly through her faint reflection as if her image was superimposed upon it. One moment it was there, and then it was gone.

The empty chair had ceased to be. Then, without further disappearances of its object, the light flickered on once again, and firmly settled: there was another room hidden behind the mirrors!

Two Security agents entered into its cone of light escorting a third man. Chained about the wrists and ankles, a black, canvas bag covering his head, he was walking between them. The thickness of the walls had apparently prevented any noise from escaping the room, as there was no sound heard coming from the other side.

Forced to the chair, the man sat down while the agents proceeded to secure his wrists and ankles to the chains that linked to the eyebolts protruding from the concrete floor. After securing the belts around his waist and chest, one of the agents disappeared into the darkness. With the last remaining agent removing the hood from off of the man’s head before vanishing from sight, it was John that was sitting before her, distressed and isolated!

Reaching out, as if to stand up and take hold of him, Sofia was again reminded of the painful recourse of her actions. Her chains drew her back to her place of confinement.

By the direction he was facing, John was oblivious to her presence. She could see that he was frightened, and thankfully unharmed. But his relative safety did not help with the nauseating feeling of helplessness that was overshadowing her.

An agent, dressed in a blue-black uniform similar to, but slightly different in fashion of that seen on Labor, stepped into Sofia’s light. His reflection behind her was cold and stiff.

“How do you know this man?” he asked through a soft, but deep voice.

“He’s my friend,” she nervously responded, attempting to look back over her shoulders.

“Red is quite far away. How did you get here?” he asked.

“I don’t know what
Red
is,” she said with a sniffle. “We came from Labor.”

Stepping out of the light, the agent began to converse with the other men in the room. The name seemed to cast a murmuring disbelief throughout their discourse as they spoke with one another and whispered into the microphones that telescoped from their earpieces. After a moment of what seemed to be a tense debate among the men, an agent from John’s room stepped into his cone of illumination, standing directly in front of him. Grasping John under the chin and around his cheeks, the man forced his head around, bringing John’s eyes in contact with Sofia. Upon releasing him, the agent disappeared into the gloom, leaving the two of them to do nothing but look longingly towards each other.

Although his eyes were hidden in the black, hollowness of the shadows that were cast down from his brow, Sofia knew that John was looking directly at her. His lips uttered her name. There was no sound, but in all familiarity, she could hear him.

“John,” she whispered back.

Entering into her cone of light, a heavily armed man unlocked the restraints from around her arms, letting the chain-tailed cuffs crumble to the floor. As she rubbed at the reddened, circumferential abrasions that had formed around her wrists, the reflected agent in the mirror behind her stepped back into his darkened
world.

“Can you point to the young man you say traveled with you from… what did you call it?
Labor
?” the deep voice asked.

Lifting her finger towards John, Sofia innocently obeyed. The agent was pleasant and calm as he thanked her for her cooperation. John tilted his head in bewilderment at her gesture. Through her reflection he appeared to be confused by the fact that she had directed her attention to him in such a manner.

The sweat was beginning to drip down his forehead as she brought her arm back to her side. John had no idea why Sofia had just pointed at him, but something about her action did not feel quite right: as if she was accusing him for his
foolishness.

“She said that you kidnapped her, and brought her here against her will,” a voice growled from the darkness lingering in front of him.

“What? Why would she say-?” John began to say.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell us?” the grumbling voice asked.

“I already told you,” John responded,” I’m from Lab-.”

“Labor, Labor, Labor. That’s what you keep saying, but there’s no planet called
Labor
.”

“It’s not a planet, it’s a-.”

Cut off mid-sentence by the heavy strike of a gloved hand against his mouth, John’s ears began ringing the moment his teeth were slammed together. As his head was swung violently away from Sofia’s view, from over his shoulder, he knew that she had witnessed the blow. Silently calling out within his mind to the Great Unknown to spare her from having to endure the same treatment, John once again hung his head in shame for being the cause of all her troubles.

Terrified at the sight of his abuse, Sofia cried out, “Why are you doing that to him?”

“He said that
you
stole a computer and used it to hijack a transporter back to this base,” an agent answered as he walked up beside her, revealing the handheld that they had taken from among the abandoned equipment on Labor.

“Hijack a what? I never-” Sofia began to say.

The laughter that burst forth from the men was demeaning and sadistically playful, as if her turmoil was par for their enjoyment. John was sucking on his swollen lip as another agent entered into view from the darkness around him. Releasing the cuffs from around his wrists, they dropped to floor, allowing John to wipe the blood from his mouth.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, we don’t believe him. We’re sure that he stole it, just like he stole you,” another deep voice mocked Sofia from the dark.

“We’re not stupid,” the agent standing beside her said. “Your uniforms prove that you were trained here at some point in the past. We’ve checked all the records. There’s been no report of anyone escaping from Planet Blue or Golden World, let alone here. But we’re going to find out sooner or later who you are.”

Turning around, the agent began to leave the cone of light, saying, “It really would be better for you if you were more truthful to
us.”

“Tell me,” one of the men whispered, moving his face into the light, running his hands through the wavy strands of hair that hung beside Sofia’s ear, “did you two return here to break your comrades free? Was this the
Great Uprising
we’ve been hearing
about?”

Pulling her shoulder away from him she stuttered, “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Oh, but you do know. That man there,” he said, pointing to John, “is a criminal: a deserter and a terrorist.”

“No, he’s-,” Sofia interrupted.

“The two of you keep insisting that you’re from a place you call
Labor
. Then I guess you two know how to work. You’re going to find out what
labor
really is.”

“But he’s not a criminal, he’s my friend, my love,” Sofia said, as she began to cry.

Sofia was tearful and tormented, and John could do nothing to help her.

“You’ve really done a number on that girl, haven’t you?” the agent standing before him said.

“I didn’t do anything to her,” John whispered.

“Look at her crying, she’s telling them everything. We know who you are and what you did… we know you better than you know yourself,” he laughed.

Unable to contain herself, Sofia buried her face in her hands. The wicked elation and mocking from the darkness was a torture worse than death. The men began to cruelly detail the savagery that they wished to act upon her and John. Heartless and evil, they ridiculed and taunted, threatened and
railed.

“Who’s your lover, little girl?” a laughing voice called out. “Point to him or we’ll kill him.”

She raised a finger towards John, but she refused to lift her eyes, afraid of seeing him so distraught. The room was engrossed with wickedness, and all she could do was obey… obey for
his
safety.

Sofia’s hand was leveled at him once again. Her finger had a rhythmical bounce that coincided with her intense weeping.

“They just informed us that you attacked her… a young innocent girl like that.”

“I never attacked anybody,” John yelled out as he began to shed his first tear.

“You’re lying to us, soldier. I already told you, she’s told us everything,” the man yelled.

“Keep your finger pointed at him, little girl, or he’s a dead man,” the agent screamed at Sofia.

She held her hand as still as she could. She didn’t understand what the men were doing, but she complied with their demands, hoping that it would make them stop.

Attempting to stand up, the waist restraint pulled John back against the seat. Approaching from the darkness, another agent retrieved a knife from the sheath hanging upon his thigh. The deep voiced man grabbed Sofia by the hair, pulling her head back, forcing her to witness their demeaning acts.

Grabbing John by the collar, the man held the knife up high above his head. He was ready to thrust his blade into his captive’s heart. Sofia’s scream was inaudible through the mirrored window as she struggled to avoid seeing the murder of her companion. Her tormentor’s smile reflecting above her was pure enjoyment in the moment.

With the knife plunging towards John’s chest, Sofia closed her eyes, knowing that he could not survive the blow. As the tip of the blade came into contact with the outer layer of John’s skin, the agent ceased in his action.

“If you want her to live, you’d better start giving us some real answers. You got me, soldier?” the agent growled at John.

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what you want from me.” John cried.

“Do you want us to slit her throat right here in front of you?” the agent screamed into John’s face.

As Sofia peered through her watery eyes, she could see that John was alive. The agent was holding the knife to an oozing puncture wound at the side of his neck.

“He’s saying this was all your fault, that you seduced him into going along with your plan,” an agent began to speak to her.

“He couldn’t be saying that,” Sofia wailed.

“Oh, yes he can… and he is. He’s telling them who you really are: that you’re a spy.”

Sobbing uncontrollably, Sofia began to vomit upon the floor as two men approached from the blackness, unlocking the cuffs at her ankles and unbuckling the belts from around her waist and chest. Forced to stand upon her feet, she was so small and frail among such burly figures. One of the men placed his hand upon her back and looked at John, smiling in mocking
derision.