If you were wondering why I labeled this blog as “adult” in nature… keep reading.
About the “explicit” tag. I dream fucked up things. In one dream I killed my parents with a silver sword. (They had become vampires!) I don’t censor my dream writeups. This particular dream deals with murder and small children. It has a fucked up ending. (But no sex, so safe for Americans! *removes tongue from cheek*) And yes, I do dream complete world systems. One more thing, I never became lucid in this dream. I don’t know if to breathe a sigh of relief, or to be greatly concerned about my mental health.
***
The instructor is at the blackboard. He walks back and forth in front of it as he gives his lecture. Tapping on a word here, a great sweeping gesture there. His movements visually articulate his flat speech. The words echo in here. There are no soft surfaces to take the edge off of his subjects. The desk is a monument to rigid structure. The chairs assault the buttocks. The slats over the windows slice the light mercilessly.
We are all sitting in perfect columns and rows. The tile grid serving as anchor points for the front right leg of each student desk. Most of us have mastered the art of breathing silently. Those few that have not, wheeze ominously, announcing their failure.
Boys. Girls. Gender is irrelevant. Ethnicity is a four-syllable spelling word. We are all 15 years old. All students are dressed the same. Polished black leather boots. Black socks. Black slacks. Polished black belt with buffed black buckle. Sharp white, long sleeve, linen shirt, buttoned up to the neck. No tie. Black jacket, buttoned up except for top two buttons. The black jacket has white trim. Black matte officers hat with a shiny black visor sat facing forward on the front right corner of every desk.
We wore no student rank. We had none. We were all equals. None was above the others. None was less than the others. The only differentiation between us was the number of studies completed, and the quality of our test results. However, this was kept to ourselves. We were not to discuss this. Later on, there would be… separation. But for now, in this class, the silent and the loud were the same.
Shortly after my arrival to this… place, I had earned the reputation for being impatient and intolerant. As such, I was assigned to be part of a team. I would be given a partner and a responsibility. My partner and I was to care for this responsibility with the utmost care. At the same time, we were never to be apart from each other. When we ate, we ate together. When we showered, we showered together. My partner would receive any punishment I had accrued, and I would receive his. But all this was past history in the dreamworld I found myself in. As the dream begins to unfold, my attitude and demeanor is completely different.
I had lost my individuality. We both had. I was only the female half of the Unit. My partner was the male half. If a question was posed to me, he would answer. A question posed to him would be answered by me. We had been side by side for so long, we were one person in two bodies. The only thing that separated us was the responsibility we had been given so many years ago.
The sound of the dropped crayon delicately echoed in the class. A second crayon had already fallen off the table, but I caught it before it hit the floor. Silently, I had left my chair and knelt beside the table next to me. My partner was on the other side of the table, putting away the other forgotten crayons. Bright assaults of color had escaped the coloring papers and were delighting in marking the steel desk. I knew that some student would have to scrub and polish the stainless steel desk as part of their punishment.
To count years, he was 15, like the rest of us. His growth stunted, he appears 6. His favorite color is pink, and he insisted on wearing all pink every day. He is unable to speak, to form words. He communicates with grunts and pointing. Usually oblivious to anything other than his crayons and me/partner, when startled his high pitched keening serves as a weapon as well as alarm. I knew the warning sounds, the barely audible whimpers. He had fallen asleep and the sound of the dropped crayon had disturbed him. He looked at me as his subvocalizations began.
I patted the side of his face, and smiled. A warm, genuine smile. He liked when I smiled at him. I had been told by others, that my glare could freeze lava and boil blood. But for him, for this pink boy, my face was the morning sun. Already he had forgotten why he was crying. His uneven fingers patted my face in a self-soothing gesture. He didn’t like the face of my partner, however, his hands were a constant source of amazement.
No clocks or time pieces were allowed, but for most of the students, they were redundant. We could count time with high precision. And we knew, the class was almost over for the day. My partner returned to his seat, and raised his hand in askance. The instructor called on him. With one voice, my partner and I asked permission to begin packing up our charge’s things. Permission granted, he left his seat and started packing the bright pink backpack. He handed me the boy’s pink cap. “MATT” in large white felt letters was embroidered on the front. I was the only person he would recognize his name from.
Because class was still in session, I did not say the name aloud. I did look at him, and mouth his name. Matt grinned with silly glee and rocked himself from side to side in a display of happiness. As if bestowing a great treasure, I firmly donned him with his cap. I thought of yesterday’s test. A physical confrontation. To pass, I had to physically incapacitate my combatant. I snapped the boy’s arm in two places. And here, I am dressing a mentally disabled child with delicate softness.
Despite the head start, when the class ended, we still were not completely prepared. The other students remained quiet as they walked past us, waiting until they were in the hall and out of instructor’s earshot to begin their derision. “The charming couple and their monkey baby.” “How hard do you think she got it to piss that out?” “Why is the shittard in our class?” “I heard she’s being groomed to be the Dean’s sock. She has to practice on the monkey first!” “Which one is the monkey?” They think the staff do not hear them. They don’t care if I do. My partner and I smile to ourselves. We know that nothing happens unseen. Maybe later in the years, we could have quality time with our abusers. But for now, only the responsibility waddling between us matters.
As the three of us leave the classroom, the instructor steps outside with us. He calls two names with a loud, flat voice. Down the hall, I see two of the mockers wince at the sound of their names. They turn around, salute, and move quickly back to the room. The instructor gives them no reason for being singled out. He only gives them a command. “You have one hour to clean the classroom.” I know that includes the crayon decorated desk. Neither my, nor my partner’s face betray the smug feeling we are sharing.
The instructor says my name, but the sound escapes me. I only know he is referring to me. So my partner speaks up to answer. “You, your partner, and your charge are to report to your Unit Commander at once. Depart from here and report.” I and my partner salute and verbally confirm the order. Matt jumps up and down at the display.
My partner tells Matt, “We’re going for a run now. Can you hold on tight?”. Matt is very excited now. Early into the conservatorship, we discovered Matt was more comfortable being held/carried by me than by my partner. He placed Matt on my back, and strapped him to me with a special harness. Both burdens secure, we take off in a moderate run. Even here, we are in step with each other.
We run down the hall and out the building. There is no heat in the complex, so Matt was already dressed for the temperature. He holds on to my shoulders, occasionally patting my head and shoulder for reasons known only to him. Tandem steps break through the ankle deep snow. Tandem breaths fight to be quieter than the other. We cross the field to the Commanders Building.
Such an odd place this is. Once a student comes here, they never leave. A student can progress, becoming Assistant, then a Student Instructor, then Instructor. Students can transfer to alternate campuses. Most students will graduate to be fully enlisted in the greater military culture outside the gates. But once in the System, you are always in the System. The only way to be marked as “Not Enrolled”, is to die. Even then, you have to be killed and be reborn into a different life elsewhere. If you kill yourself, suicides are reborn back into the warrens of the System.
Matt is a suicide that was reborn back into the System. Why he was reborn as a mentally disabled boy, I don’t know. I do know, that when he is reborn again into the warrens, as he grows up in his next life, he will remember all I and my partner did for him. For some strange reason, this gives me hope.
Most students do not talk about this closed reincarnation. The few that do, are dismissed as superstitious by their classmates, and marked as dangerous by the staff. While my partner and I never speak of what we know, the constant observation by the System Council betrays our mutual knowledge.
We are escorted quickly to the Unit Commander’s office. There, I see three other students from my class. I know them to be the top of the rankings. Where I would be, if I did not have the care of Matt on my hands. I am not jealous of them, they deserve their accolades. I do have a wisp of regret of my actions that led me to be shackled in this way. There are 2 executive chairs on our side of the desk. Neither is occupied. We students are to sit on the bare steel bench at the far side of the room.
The commander is not in yet. He is in a meeting with other high ranked officers of the school. My partner unbuckles Matt from my back and sits him on the bare bench. He and I sit on either side of Matt. Our presence soothes Matt. He steals peeks at the other three students as we all sit silently and rigidly. Bored with the lack of reaction, Matt decides to sit like us in his own way, a gross exaggeration of body posture. No reaction. Finally, he decides to count his fingers. Each time he finishes, he cheers and claps loudly. The sound startles him, making him forget what he had done. He sees his hands before him, and starts counting fingers again. Matt can do this for hours without boredom.
The door opens. The Commander enters the room. The five able-bodied students leap to our feet and salute. Because Matt is on my left, I am able to hold him to his seat while saluting. The Commander returns with a sharp salute of his own. “As you were. Take a seat.” We drop our salute and return to the bench.
He sits behind the desk in a moderate executive chair. Folders and dossiers in front of him. He examines our lives with silent repose. Matt is frightened by the flurry of movement and sudden return of silence. My partner offers his hands to Matt. Matt traces the lines on the palm and soothes himself.
One by one, we are called out. Our achievements acknowledged and praised. I find that I am actually ranked among the top three in my class, despite the albatross of being partnered and Matt’s caretaker.
The Commander addresses us all. “Orders from the General. All of you are to be discharged from the System. You will transfer to civilian life.” We sit in silence. Not quite understanding the orders. The Commander is not happy with this. He scowls as he reads the official order.
“… such aptitude that continued education within the System would be a deterrence …” “… would better serve their fellow sentient beings in a peace time setting …” “… knowledge and understanding of high refinement, they will find difficulty conforming to the military culture …”
“I don’t know how many lifetimes you have lived individually, but the culmination has either damned you or saved you, depending on your outlook.” He removes his glasses and rubs at his eyes. “I know you understand reincarnation. So don’t sit there with that fake shocked look on your faces.”
Pria, female, “If I may be bold and speak, Sir…” The Commander nods in her direction. “Our class are all first-timers. Newly born, so to speak. We’ve only heard rumors…” The Commander laughs.
He picks up her dossier and reads out loud. “Pria. Age, fifteen years, 3 months. Physical gender, female. Sexual orientation, asexual.” Pria blushes slightly. “Current birthplace, Warren 5G.” He pauses. “You were lucky to get out of 5G, nasty place with nasty people.” He smiles oddly, setting off my internal caretaker alarms. “Lifetime number, TWELVE!” Pria looks shocked. “You have lived 11 times before, Pria. Been through these halls, 11 times before. And died in service to the System, 11 times before.”
Scott, male, speaks up with characteristic boldness. “Pria, you and I shared a previous life together. Except we were both male then. You don’t have any dreams involving ‘Samti’ and ‘Gan’?” Pria turns a deep red. She starts to sputter that they were only dreams. Scott just smiles at her. “We left a good trap when we died, didn’t we. The enemy never suspected that we were willing to kill ourselves to destroy a whole unit.”
The Commander audibly sighs. “I do not understand this. Matt…”, pointing at the disabled boy, “killed himself in an attempt to escape service to the System. He was reborn in Warren 8A, with a birth defect. You and Samti, er… Scott, killed yourselves IN service to the System. And here you are, both examples of health.”
“And as for you.” He turns his attention to me and my partner. “You two have been reborn several times yourself. But your two records are sealed. I would like to know the stories of your incarnations. I have heard… things… about your previous lives. But those stories will have to come later. Before you can be released, there is one task you must do.”
The Commander places a revolver on his desk, with three bullets. Each bullet has a name. “Pria”, “Scott”, and “Aranth”. The three students to my right. “As you are aware, if they kill themselves, they will be reborn back into the system. I want you to have the honor of sending them off to their new lives.”
Matt has become suddenly uneasy. He pulls and clings to my clothes. My partner stands up to retrieve the weapon and rounds. “No. SHE must do this.” We look at each other and nod. He pulls Matt away from me and holds him gently. Matt struggles a bit, then buries his face in the black jacket and quietly keens to himself.
I take the revolver and Pria’s round. I load the round into the cylinder but rotate the cylinder to an empty chamber. Pria stands. She is smiling contentedly. I shake her hand and salute her. She returns the salute. I ask if she wants the empty chamber first. She does. I stand in front of her, placing the revolver to her forehead. *click* She doesn’t blink. As I ensure the cylinder is properly aligned, she quietly says, “I remember the Commander now, he was the Youth Supervisor in Warren 5G before I was transferred here. There was a scandal. ‘Abuse of Prepubescents’.” I can feel the Commander tightening his jaw. I do not acknowledge Pria’s words. But as my eyes lock with hers for the first and last time, she sees that I understand her meaning. I place the revolver muzzle to her forehead again.
*BANG* *schlump*
Matt screams from fright. He looks up from my partner’s jacket, scanning the room for my face. He sees me. I smile at him, even as the blood spatter pocks my skin. It is all crayon color to him. As long as I smile, the world is at peace. Internally, my caretaker alarms are falling to pieces from the clattering. If I and my partner are to be “transferred” as well, who will care for Matt? Who will look after this eternal child that will never grow up?
I take Scott’s round, not bothering to wipe the splatter off my face. The cooling effect is strangely calming, and now I wonder about my previous lives as well. I do wipe my hand off. I shake Scott’s hand, and salute him. After he returns the salute, I ask if he wants an empty chamber to prepare. He declines. In a smooth motion, I raise the revolver and place it between his brows.
*BANG* *schlump*
Matt screams again. Usually a loud sound will only startle him once, then he is used to it. This time, he is terrified. He seeks my face again. Again I smile at him. Again, he is comforted. Then I realize, Matt probably committed suicide with a handgun.
Now, for Aranth. Before I shake Aranth’s hand, I ask a burning question. “Aranth? Are you XXY?” Aranth glares at me for a moment. “Yes. Why do you ask?” “Your physical build, it confuses me.” “No questions about my sexual preference?” Aranth glares over my shoulder at the Commander. My internal caretaker alarms completely broke at the action. I knew I had to protect Matt in this lifetime, even if it meant sacrificing my next one. “Did you want to have a fuck with me before you go?” I ask the question smoothly and without taunt. A sincere question. Aranth blinks twice, processing the question. “Um. No. But…” I raise an eyebrow in askance. “May I have a kiss from you before you kill me?” Aranth blushes deeply. I am filled with tenderness.
I lean forward and kiss Aranth deeply on the mouth… soon we are tonguing each other. My partner turns red from desire and the Commander forgets how to breathe. Once I feel Aranth surrendering totally to the kiss, I quickly place the revolver against the temple and fire Aranth’s round.
*BANG* *schlump-bump*
Aranth is a good kisser. Wish I had asked sooner. Matt’s scream pulls me back from the tender moment. I turn to look at him. He stops screaming and starts laughing. Aranth’s blood covers the entire right half of my face. My left half is only spotted. I smile at Matt’s laughter, which only brightens him more.
The Commander retrieves two more rounds. I note these have my, and my partner’s name on them. “Now then, hand over Matt’s backpack, and Matt. It’s time for you two to depart.”
“Sir, who will care for Matt, Sir?”
“Don’t worry about that. You have fulfilled your obligation, and have done so with pride and honor. It has been a pleasure to watch you transform from unruly into the paragon of order.”
“Sir, who will care for Matt, Sir? We are willing to put off our reincarnation until proper caretakers for Matt have been assigned, Sir.” The Commander’s smile freezes.
“That won’t be necessary. I will care for Matt. Now, hand over the revolver. It’s time for you two to depart.” I realize then what the Commander will do to Matt. A little boy that will never grow up, in the hands of a high-ranking child molester.
I look over the revolver slowly, as if in the moment of deciding what to do. I’m really distracting the Commander from my partner’s movement. Because of bullying students, we had started carrying a loaded handgun in Matt’s bag. Just in case. Just like now.
The Commander stands up to come around the desk to take the revolver from me. My partner retrieves the weapon and fires one shot. The Commander’s head snaps back and his body crashes rudely against the desk.
This time, Matt doesn’t scream. He just looks at me oddly. My partner speaks up, the first separate speech from me in 5 years. “You tried to protect him before. You tried to help him stand up for himself. But you were too rough, and too late. He killed himself because he felt he couldn’t live up to your standards. He shot himself in front of you.”
“How do you know this?”
“I was the asshole that pushed him to do it. When I realized you had seen everything, I killed you. The Council sentenced me to immediate execution, so I would be reborn in your and Matt’s class.” I noted he still held the handgun. And Matt.
“I was allowed to remember my previous lives very quickly. I really was an ass. Moreso than the fuckers that tease us about Matt. But now…” He looks at Matt fondly. “I’m sorry my friend. I understand now.”
At first, I was tense and worried. But as I watched him melt, I realized he was sincere. “So, what do we do now?”
I check the dossiers on the Commander’s desk. I find a folder for Pria, Scott, Aranth, and myself. I also find one for Matt. I do not find one for my partner, but I do find an order for the Commander. He is to report for disciplinary action regarding the events in Warren 5G.
I start swearing. “The fucker used us to dodge the Council.” My partner laughs. “You don’t remember the Council. So you don’t see who really used us. The Council used us to SERVE JUDGMENT on him!” I think about it and agree.
“I have enough rounds, you know. To fulfill the orders. You and Matt are to be reborn. Matt will reincarnate within the System. You, get a civilian life. Try not to come back here. You’re far too loose of a cannon.” He chuckles.
“And you?”
He smiles. “My punishment is not yet over. I have to live a long life without the two people that made it worthwhile. You’re a hard person to deal with, but having seen the inner you… I love you. Would that I could live another life with you.”
“I’m just one person. Who is the other?”
“I remember what he was like. Before I bullied and tortured him into a hollow husk. I do care for him now, and… I’ll miss him.”
The door opens, other high ranking officers come in. They are not surprised to see the scattered carnage. One officer steps gingerly to my partner, and salutes him. “Good day, General, Sir. Have we arrived too early?”
The Overseer of Academic Studies… the boy I knew as my partner… looked at me. Old man eyes in a young man’s face. “Yes, and no. We were finishing a discussion.” He addresses me, “Beloved, do you want to send Matt on his way, or shall I?”
I take the handgun, and hold it out of Matt’s view. The Overseer plays with Matt’s tiny hands to distract him, as I raise the handgun behind Matt’s head and fire. The Overseer gently lays Matt’s small body on the ground.
I return the handgun to the Overseer. “You killed me once, and now you get to kill me again? That’s not fair!” We both laugh.
“You get to live a real life, away from here. I get to spend eternity knowing I killed the one person I truly loved. I will never leave the System. You have taught me a hard lesson. Several of them. The System will benefit. I won’t let this happen again.”
The Overseer raises the muzzle to my forehead. Places the tip gently against the “third eye”. He smiles. I smile. I hear the most subtle of clicks as the firing pin is released.
***
I wake with a shake. Body trembling and tense. I reached up to my forehead and felt… nothing. My daughter comes in my room, asking if I was okay. I shouted in my sleep apparently. I ask if there were any loud noises outside. She said a car backfired in the distance.
I lay in bed for a while. The dream refusing to leave me. It demands to be written. And written, it is.