February 17, 2005

Chapter 1

Jason was excited. He had a secret, and his mind was lit up like a bonfire in the night. He was very aware of the danger in that excitement, so he counted very carefully to be sure he took the same 570 steps as always from his "pod" to the school gate. He had become an expert at pretending the disinterested, docile movements and facial expression of all the other boys.

Breakfast had been the usual slab of gray tofu, sprinkled faintly with imitation cinnamon and what passed for sugar. The nondescript"fruit juice" had been even less sweet than usual, and from long practice he was able to ignore the knot of hunger that remained. At the door, he had successfully isolated the little pink pill from the vitamin capsule, and spit it into the first bush he passed, confident that the bubbling irrigation would destroy it and fully aware that he must never for a second let anyone suspect that he was not actually under the influence of it. The zombie-like boys shuffling all around him were stark proof of it's horrible effectiveness.

The "pod" teacher was easy to fool, but he carefully controlled his breathing and made his mind as blank as possible as he stepped into the "bio chamber" just beyond the gate. In a few seconds it read his "vital signs" and dozens of other things Jason didn't understand, but he knew that if anything was unusual he would be pulled aside for other tests and would have to talk to a "counselor". That was something he didn't want because boys often never returned to the pod afterwards. He didn't know why, but his imagination was sufficient to make that fate a horror to be avoided at all costs.

The tall 17 year old allowed himself a long mental sigh as he stepped out of the booth and walked sedately along the concrete path to the first building. The machine had not been able to penetrate his mind or soul and was not able to alert the "teachers" to the brewing discontent and questioning that had become the core of Jason's being.

His first class, as always, was "State Appreciation". All of the "benefits" of loyal citizenship were drilled into them as they repeated the "loyalty oath" in unison. Large photographs of the "Glorious Leaders" and the gaudy pale blue flag with red and white strips on the edges covered every available flat surface. The music was probably supposed to be inspiring, but Jason couldn't see any sense to any of it since the boys around him were so drugged that they showed no interest and no inspiration at all. Of course, neither did he. He often wondered if there were others who refused to be drugged and might be able to think for themselves. He wished he could talk to them.

Down the hall and to the right was his "home room", and he gratefully slipped into the chair in front of his work station, lovingly touching the buttons that brought the machine to life. Again, he silently endured the "loyalty oath" that filled the first screen and when finally prompted, typed in his password. It was meaningless, of course, since any teacher could get into his program and read anything he wrote, but it was satisfying to him. In a world with no privacy and no personal possessions, his password was something precious and unique. He didn't really understand why, but he was beginning to understand that it WAS important and fit into a much larger picture of life that would make sense where his present existence did not. He wanted desperately to learn more, but knew that openly seeking that kind of knowledge was the very thing that would bring him the unwanted attention of the teachers, and the unknown horrors that might go with it.

He remembered, faintly, a far different life on the farm where he had been born. He remembered his grandfather talking about many things that he didn't understand at the time, but which haunted him now. He wanted to understand them, but the few attempts he'd made to look up some of the words grandpa had used had resulted in alerting the teacher! They didn't want him to learn about those words, and he could see the stark anger and fear in their faces when he had used one. That first word had been "gun", and he felt a shiver down his spine just remembering the shocked expression of hate and revulsion on their faces and their demands to know where he had heard that word.

Now, however, he had a faint glimmer of hope that the memories and the vast holes in his knowledge could at long last be filled with reality. He had seen and read many of those forbidden words, in a way the teachers did not seem to be aware of. He had no way to ask questions or talk to this source of information, but he dreamed of a time when he would know who was on the other end of the tiny lifeline that had been given to him. He had already learned that his life and his mind belonged to himself alone. He understood that the word "rights" meant something far different than what his teachers said.

The machine beeped to prompt him to start his lessons, so he dutifully typed in the nonsense answers to meaningless questions with the stock phrases expected of him. Then he began to read the assignment for the next day, just to pass the time. Suddenly, a tiny black dot appeared in the top left of the screen, right where a patch of glare from the window would make it invisible to anyone else unless they knew to look for it.

Jason slowly leaned in closer, savagely suppressing the surge of joy and excitement. A mouse click opened a tiny little window and he devoured the short bit of text as if his life depended on it. Each day he saw it, the conviction grew in him that his real life did depend on it.

The text read: You are a human being. You have the right to live your life as you wish, as long as you don't hurt anyone else.

The little window winked out seconds later, leaving the next day's lesson alone on the screen. Jason pretended to look at it carefully, but all he could think about was the incredible idea that he might live as he wished. He didn't have any desire to hurt anyone else. How, then, and why did the teachers control everything so rigidly? Why didn't they talk about what the little window said? Why were they so afraid of anyone who actually DID think for themselves? These and so many other questions roared in his head and he didn't know who to ask. His grandfather would have understood, he thought, but he'd been dead a long time now.

Jason knew he had to get his emotions under control so he could pass through the "bio" station again without unwanted attention from the "teacher" there. It was a matter of life and death. He didn't know exactly why, but he knew it was the only way he would continue to see the black dot. Somehow, some way, he had to know what it was all about.

The Price of Liberty has not published much fiction, but this little story grew out of my reaction to reading one of the dozens of stories in the news about the growing "zero tolerance" for almost everything in our government run schools. This is a nightmare that could be coming to a community near you... soon.. in some form or another. This could be the start of several short stories or, perhaps, even a book. Please let me know what you think of it. Susan Callaway, Editor