Dystopian Groove- A Short Story

Vigorous consumption of misery has brought me into this state of barely being. All my life, I have lavished myself with the finest of the cheapest of spirits. Years of dead reckoning have resulted in the encouragement of my death. I can sense the satisfaction of the reaper from the smell of its breath, and it’s intoxicating. I have waited so long for this moment to arrive. The final moment of providence that has eluded me since I betrayed humanity is now upon me.

The reaper angel comes toward me at a steady speed, and it looks so very happy to see me. I am happy to see it. I reach out to the reaper with glee and feel its surprisingly warm hands begin to embrace my body. I lose all sensation of breath and pulse. I am finally exiting the living equation. I sense no bounce as the reaper takes each step with me cradled in its forgiving arms. It is as if this moment of destiny is too precious to disturb with movement. Yet, before we reach the door to my nevermore, words from reality shatter the dimension.

“Wake the fuck up.”

I open my eyes and realize that I am still among the living- or at least that appears to be the case. I turn over to turn off the programmed robotic voice- now that I havewoken the fuck up.Oh my, a new week in the Honorable Year of Freedom Three. I shouldn’t forget to mention that it is the Honorable Month of Abad. So many things are honorable now, as you, the reader, will come to know. You should have known, as you are coming after me, but maybe you didn’t pay attention in history class. Don’t worry, I’ll have you sorted out in no time.

This story starts on a Monday, as all good stories should. I feel so nonchalant that I let the razor twirl freely next to my neck as I shave. I hate shaving. I despise most things, yet I do them anyway, like the cowardly deviant I am. I thought I was brave when I was younger, but like most people, I surrendered my bravery for an easement. Yeah, life is so much better when it is easier. Just leave your honor, integrity, and self-respect behind. The government will issue you new morals. The brave are almost all gone now, lost to history like the forged and fraudulent “founding documents.”

Precious moments pass by as I ready myself for the day. Society, what’s left of it, demands an abundance of frivolous preparation and presentation. Who am I to deny the world its metaphysical need for me to look like I agree? After all, if I am caught looking less than honorable, I could lose my job and be sent off to Honorable Intensive Retraining Encampment or H.I.R.E.(prison for those unaccustomed to the new meanings of things. Note to self: (create translation dictionary)

Today I am to report for my new assignment: Area Utilization Assessor- Supervisor. It is a promotion that I have worked hard for. Yes, it was very hard work agreeing with everything my predecessor said, but I did it, as I had to. It will now be my task to identify resources for proper distribution and utilization. Resources can be anything. It could be an Idle Unactioned Volunteer (IUV), a building to shelter people, or even arable land to grow crops. Well, this is the official Honorable Life Pursuit(job) description. In truth, I am required for the sake and success of the “Great Endeavor” to report deviants (free thinkers) who are not living in accordance with the Honorable Laws and tax people who have “too much.” If you have a four-bedroom house, you better have at least two people per room. This law is just one example of how Honorable Global citizens can help (obey) their Honorable Economic and International Leaders (overlords).

Before my elevation, I was an Area Utilization Assessor, Initiate. It is in that role I learned how to endure the sneers and comments of those who fail to see the glory of our new Republic. Truthfully, I don’t like it either, but best to get along; better than being sent away for “education.” I know the air quotes are distracting, but bear with me. We are getting to the next part of the story.

So much changed when the world went through the “Great Reorganization” (campaign of terror and forced assimilation). There are significantly fewer people, jobs, and money. Also, we have fewer cars, food, and opportunity. There is very little “more” unless you are a Founder, preternaturally. I am lucky compared to most. I am a Trusted Friend (snitch), so the Necessary Nutrients (compliance pills) I receive do not fully subdue my cognitive abilities.

Oh my, I have completely forgotten to introduce myself. I am normally more polite. My name is Jordan Walker and the year is 2032. I’m twenty-four and single. I am hopeful the state will send me a partner recommendation (permission) soon. The more Social Responsibility credits I get, the better chance I have to find a quality life partner. My bio-progenitors (parents) died in the Honorable War for Peace and Freedom (2027–2029), which preceded the aforementioned Great Reorganization. A few years ago, I stumbled upon a cache of recordings and documents in an abandoned warehouse. I was wandering around scrounging for food, like most unhoused youths, and tripped over a filing cabinet in the basement. The filing cabinet was marked with the words 2027- Time Capsule. Like any good and honorable citizen, I immediately turned in the treasure trove to the Honorable Governor of Southern Provinces, formerly South-central and Southeast United States. That is how I earned my first job with the Honorable Employment Council.

Before I did that, though, I made sure to keep my own copies- you never know when you may need some street credits. The documents give an alternate account of the history of the G.R.E.A.T.(Good, Responsible, Equal, and Always Truthful) Republic. I could have released these documents to the people and spread the word, but the allure of a good meal and job kept me silent. Don’t worry, I keep them in a space they would never think to look at. Anyways, it is time to go to work. It is another rainy day in the city. The few remaining rats wait just outside of the sewer entrances, staring as I walk by. I wonder if one of them is a drone. So many things are drones now. Autos, planes, helis, pets, admin people, all charged up and ready to provide us with “safety, security, and protection.” Different words that all mean the same thing- aggressive observation.

After a twelve-minute walk through the gray world, I approach the district office, a large, dull, concrete building in the center of the district. It seems to have been there for generations. Cracks and unevenness feature prominently, yet the brochure says it has been remodeled, so it must be by design. Into the elevator, ten floors up. I am meeting a very important person. I am meeting District Commissar Karl Nelin. This is the kind of meeting that makes or breaks people, in the most serious way.

I am finally in the vaulted waiting room of the Official Office of the 12 the District Commissar of the Great Democratic People’s Republic of the Eastern Alliance of the New United States. I know it sounds fancy, but think of your prototypical shady call center of the 1990s, and you will have appropriately envisioned the wonder. An ossified woman approaches, looks at me like I was a talking wart, and attempts a smile. The kind of smile that makes you want to ask someone if they are “ok.’

“The Commissar will be with you soon. Would you like a coffee? We don’t have coffee, but I am required to ask. So, would you like water?”

“No, thank you.”

“Sure, Sure. Keep your pants on.” She walks away.

“Uh, excuse me?”

“I said, what’s wrong? Are you medicated or something? I’ll be right back with your water. Oh, never mind, I just got the wave. You may walk right in now. I’ll hang on to the water for next time.”

“Um, ok. Thank you.” Where do they get these people?

She waddles away, out of sight. She has to be trolling me, right? Doesn’t matter now, into the next room. There he is. The Commissar is in full dress uniform, wearing every adornment one might expect of a very important person. He beckons me further into his office, deeper into the den of stale propaganda. Blank, gray walls. Symbols of power scattered on a plain wooden desk. A photo of the Honorable and Great Don Abad, President, Chancellor, and Permanent Community Leader of the Eastern Alliance. Our great hero who helped free us from the tyranny of too much freedom.

I walk all the way to the front of the desk to give my salute and courtesy. “All Hail the Honorable and Great Don Abad. Equality for All. Praise his name. Praise our Community. Greetings Commissar” (I swear I don’t normally talk like this, but I can’t risk being casual in this situation.) The Commissar casually returns the salute.

“Yes, yes. Hail, honorable, sure, have a seat, young man.”

“Commissar Sir, it is my understanding that we don’t use outdated, dangerous, and evil gender designations. We refer to each other by title and provincial names pursuant to — ”

“Yes, Yes”, interrupts the Commissar. “Have a seat, Assessor, erm Lewist; Lewist who likes to talk first, I bet you will want to talk last, too.”

“It’s Lewis, my last name, I mean, isLewis. Commissar, I need to put in a request to have it fixed.”

The Commissar scoffs, “Your Honorable nameplate clearly says Lewist, is the mistake the work of our great and honorable label makers, or is it your ego getting the better of you?

“Mine, Commissar, apologies.”

“Yes, well, you strike me as someone who apologizes a lot. Ah. I will do the rest of the speaking here. You just listen. I will make this very simple for you. The Commissar stands to deliver his speech (in an unnecessarily dramatic tone.) You have been elevated to Area Utilization Assessor- Supervisor. This is one of the most important roles a man of your low progeny could ever hope to.

attain.YouYouattain.You

You will report sickness, the sickness of criminality that undermines our great work. I see you have already signed each of your two hundred responsibilities. I think you will do just fine once you rid yourself of the desire to embarrass yourself by assuming to correct a superior. I trust it won’t happen again. Nod your head. Good. Now, if there are no more questions. You will report to me at 1800 daily. You will report every deviant. You will report every assessment you make, without fail. Understood?”

“Yes, Commissar. “

“Great, leave the way you came. (He returned to normal voice).”

I stand up and render salute and courtesy again, “All Hail the Honorable and Great Don Abad. Equality for All. Praise his name. Praise our Community. Abadspeed, Commissar” The Commissar casually returns the salute and immediately calls someone and starts speaking as if I have already vanished. I exit the office, and a grim, scolding figure stares me down.

“Sorry, we are out of water. Have a nice day. The elevator is just down the hall.”

“Great, thank you.”

“Of course.”

Well, that was fun. Sorry you had to hear all that. I am so embarrassed. I swear that I am not a true believer and the best way to hide that is to go all in. You gotta match, then exceed their devotional energy. Sometimes that backfires, and things can get- awkward, but ” life’s a risk, kid.” That’s what my predecessor always said. I wonder if he feels that way now. So anyway, time to move forward on my first day as Supervisor. Of my two-hundred responsibilities, recruiting an initiate is at the top. I have full discretion and responsibility. I think I know just the right person.

I walk over to the Honorable Youth House #78421, where my friend Diedra resides. I see her bobbing her head to music, engulfed in a crowd of youths. As I approach her, the crowd disperses. Word of my promotion moved fast, apparently. We were never great friends, but they should know my promotion is good for them, too. Ungrateful deviants. No matter, I am not interested in the friendship of these types, I am just here for my friend. My only friend.

“I know what you are going to ask me and the answer is no.”

“No? Aw c’mon Diedra, you know me, at least you will be working with me and not on a factory line somewhere.”

“Call myself an initiate? That just sounds awful. Dishonorable. I know you Lewist (emphasis on the t). How can you wear that uniform and report on people? It’s wrong. You know it is.”

“Wrong, what’s wrong is eating slop and daydreaming about a past, present, and future that doesn’t exist, not for us. Not for anyone. Not anywhere. Not ever. There is a new way of doing things. You don’t have to believe, you just have to say you do. Look, just try it out for a couple weeks and if you don’t like it, at least I can recommend something else and in the meantime you get some credits and maybe even a steak ration.”

“Fine, you should have led with steak ration. So, what happened to the person who had your job?”

“I was told that he was accepted into an advanced education program.”

“Ooooh, you saidhe. That is going to have to be on the report.”

“Oh stop, let’s make our rounds. I have my first report at 1800. I need to have at least 3 items.”

“What if we only get 2? Do you get sent to advanced education?”

“Haha, knock it off. If we can get 2, we can get 3.”

Diedre and I begin making our rounds. Our job is simple. Identify and report. Never interfere. That is the job for the Honorable Accountability and Safety Team. It is 1215, and I see factory workers still on break across the street from the Youth House. That’s one. They should already be back inside before their break is up. I only need two more, and I got six whole hours to do it. Well, five. I still need to type everything up. We walked. We walked left, right, sometimes up, sometimes down. It is already 1600, and we still only have 1 item on the report. It is getting frustrating, but luck seems to be on our side. As we were walking along the tracks, I heard the faintest sound of music. Music is strictly forbidden. At least until the Honorable Council on Decency in the Arts finishes compiling their list of acceptable listings. We just need to know where it is coming from.

We follow the sound of the music to a small shack. Outside of the shack, there is an actual motorbike, just sitting there as if it is no big deal. That is a report by itself. That should have been done long ago. Someone is in big trouble. I can report the motorbike without a name, because the motorbike does not need a name to be acquired for the betterment of the community. We keep walking. We walk up to the shack and knock. The music stops and a young person with feminine appearance opens the door. “Hello?”

“Yes, hello. I am the Area Utilization Assessor- Supervisor- Lewis.”

“Your tag saysLewist.”

“Yes, yes, you are correct. Great observation, citizen. Anyway, my initiate and I heard music coming from your shack, and we will need to know your name.” Just then, the distinct cry of a newly birthed human (baby) disrupted the atmosphere. I look at this citizen, they look right back at me.

“ Newly birthed humans are not allowed in this district. I need your name, please.”

“No, please, it is my baby girl. The music was meant to keep her quiet. I have already lost my husband, I can’t lose her too.”

“Did you say girl, that is — ”

Diedre pulls me aside and tells the deviant- we’ll be right back. She looks at me and says fiercely, “I did not sign up for this”

“I know it is horrible, but you actuallydidsign up for this.”

“You are not seriously going to report this person, are you? And don’t talk to me like I am one of them. That isn’t the Lewis I know.”

“I am the Lewis you know.” She didn’t look convinced. “Look, it is my first day as supervisor. I can’t afford to look bad. You know that. It probably won’t even be that bad.”

“You don’t have tolookanything. We already got the workers, we got the motorbike. Why can’t we just go with that. Two out of three, and we get to look ourselves in the mirror tonight without vomiting. It is already 1700. We still have to get back and get the report typed up anyway. We don’t have time for this.”

“You’re right. You are absolutely right. I’m sorry. Let’s just get out of here. In any case, I have a number three. It is a stash of archives from before the war. Newspapers, data, files, all kinds of stuff. I have kept it hidden for a long time for an emergency just like this. I will need to say you found it, though.”

“Found it where and how? And why me?”

“Forget the why, ok, just trust me on this. It is called happenstance. We were walking on the park trail, and you tripped. You saw a piece of metal next to the statue of Don Abad. Investigating further, you saw that it was a metal box full of documents. Knowing this could be a major violation, we taped off the area and posted warning signs. Got it?”

“Got it. That is dumb. No one is going to believe that. Wait, how do you know about this stash? “

“They will believe it because we are reporting it. They never look too close into things so long as things appear to be compliant. A few years ago, I found a stash just like this one somewhere else. I reported it, and that is how I got this job to begin with. I made copies of a few things for a rainy day and a few other items. Look, we have to get going. It is getting cloudy, it is going to rain, and then we will be late and wet.”

“Let’s just get this done.” Diedre looked as if she had seen a ghost. Her face went blank, and she didn’t move. She must be worried we won’t make it. I can’t let her down. I go back to the shack. “Miss, I am reporting the motorbike. I suggest moving it away from the shack. Please get some headphones.”

“Thank you, thank you so much.” Her eyes began to water. I closed the door. This day was not supposed to be this stressful- I hope every day as a Supervisor won’t be this stressful.

Diedre and I ran back to the office. Elevator, third floor. Type. Type. Type. Print. 1750. Elevator. 10th floor. We walk in. 1755 The ossified allows us to pass. We salute and offer courtesy (In unison). “All Hail the Honorable and Great Don Abad. Equality for All. Praise his name. Praise our Community. Greetings Commissar”

“Yes, yes, the Commissar grumbled. You are five minutes early. Next time, be on time, or there won’t be a next time.”

“Pardon, Commissar”

“Well, there you go with your apologies again. Let’s see the report. Who is with you?”

“Commissar, this is the Honorable Diedre Mills, she is my initiate.”

“As a supervisor, you should know that it is inexcusable to use that outdated and improper pronoun. Would you like to report Supervisor Lewist for his offense, initiate?”

Diedre looked over at me, a little bit longer than made me comfortable. She must still be concerned about this report. “No, Commissar. I don’t think Supervisor Lewist meant any harm.”

“Very well, though you will have to submit an affidavit that you refuse to report the supervisor for the infraction. Now, on to business, the report I have for today calls for three reports from you.”

“I proudly place them on his desk. Ok, You have three. Good. Is there anything reportable that happened that is not on the report?”

“No, Commissar. The rest of the day was uneventful.”

“Very good. I will have the Honorable Accountability and Safety Team look into these right away. Especially this archive. It may be more of that false information, like that cache you had reported before. The one that took care of a big problem for us.”

“Yes, Commissar, it may be.”

I felt proud. I was able to do my job. I was able to help my friend get a job. And I was able to avoid having to turn a mother into the system. What a great day. Diedre looked happy as well, as well as she can, anyway. I think we are going to make a great team. We salute and again offer courtesy. “All Hail the Honorable and Great Don Abad. Equality for All. Praise his name. Praise our Community. Abadspeed Commissar.” The Commissar returns the salute, this time with gusto.

Elevator. First floor. Outside. I ask DIedre if she wants to go get that steak, but she says that she isn’t feeling well. The first day can be a bit much, so we just say goodbye and agree to meet back at 0700 tomorrow and get an early start on our next three items. I feel fantastic. I will be very comfortable in this new role. Maybe I won’t ask for the Angel of Death to come visit tonight or any night from now on. Home. Steak. Sleep. Morning. 0600. Boom! I heard a loud bang and sat straight up. Someone is breaking in. I rush to see who it might be, and lo and behold- members of the Honorable Accountability and Safety Team. How did they get here so fast? I find out quickly as my face is shoved into the ground and I am read my “rights.”

“Area Utilization Assessor- Supervisor- Lewist. You are now rightfully being held for questioning. You must comply and answer every question. A lawyer will be appointed to you at our discretion. If you can not afford the lawyer we appoint, your property and all assets will be confiscated. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand. Why am I being arrested?”

“You do not have the right to ask questions. You will be given the answers as deemed appropriate by the Commissar.”

It must have been some misunderstanding. I didn’t do anything wrong. They take me to the office. Elevator. Basement. Time unknown. I am in an empty room, chained to a metal chair bolted into the concrete. The door opens and to my surprise Diedre walks in. What the hell is she doing here? Maybe she broke in to save me, and I am certainly in need of that service.

“Don’t say anything, just listen. No one can hear us right now. The cameras are off. How are you feeling?”

Is she serious? What is she on about? I respond in a hurried whisper, “I don’t know what’s happening, please get me out of here before they come back.”

“Don’t worry Lewist, I am about to explain this to you.” I sit back in fear, frozen, what is she up to?

“For years I have been trying to figure out who was responsible for my mother being taken from me. You see, she was a freedom fighter, and she hid information and other items around the district to help educate others and spread the truth about what happened. Come to find out, your selfish and cowardly self snitched her out for a job. Now, there is no hope for any of us. So, I reported you for not reporting the mom and baby yesterday. Oh, and guess who is the new Area Utilization Assessor- Supervisor?”

“But the woman and the baby, how could you do that to them? Also, how crazy are you, do you really think they are going to promote you? You are just an initiate. Whatever they told you, it’s a lie.”

“My goodness, you are dumb, but that’s ok. I am going to help you get educated. Maybe even the same education my mom and so many others have received because of you. Don’t worry about the lady and the baby, they won’t be found. Lewis, I am not like you. I followed in my mother’s footsteps. They are in a safe place far away by now. I can’t say the same for you. Lewist, you are the worst kind of traitor. You are not a true believer. You just want nice things, and you will sacrifice anyone to get it. I don’t think they have steak vouchers where you are heading. Also, of course they will promote me. I exposed a traitor, and as you said, they never look too closely into things as long as they seem compliant.”

“Diedre, I’m sorry. Please. You have to help me. Please, we are supposed to be friends.”

“Oh, I am helping. Haven’t they told you? I thought I just did. Maybe you can’t hear right. You are going to an Advanced Education Camp. I hear it is wonderful. You will probably run into an old friend- you did snitch on your predecessor, right?”

I am unable to speak. Diedre flips me the middle finger and walks out the door. I can’t believe she is doing this to me. Her mom was an accident, I didn’t even know they were related. I can get out of this, I can report Diedre. I will tell them the truth and be rewarded. The Commissar bursts in a few moments later. Before I can speak, he explains to me that I have been relieved of duty and have been stripped of my citizenship. Though I will have an opportunity to earn it back someday, as long as I can prove that I believe.

“Do you have anything at all to say for yourself?”

Finally, I get to tell my side of things, “Commissa — .” The HAST team comes back in, puts a muzzle on my mouth and a mask on my face, and leads me back outside to an awaiting bus.

“I didn’t think so. Goodbye to you,formercitizen Lewist.”

Heading for reeducation. Great. I am waiting for the reaper all over again.