The Metamorphosis
By Seth Walker
The auditorium was
silent except for the occasional cough, and the interviewer looked intently at
Dr. Higgins’ nose as the TV cameras circled around them.
“Tell
me about the experiment, Dr. Higgins.”
“Really, the only thing
that I have any memory of is a shocking sensation. It was not very painful or intense, just a
mild feeling of electricity coursing through my brain.
“After
that,” he continued, “The first thing I remember is the kind of feeling you get
when you’re in a dream. It’s like being
just a puff of air, floating about. I
woke up in this really cold water, and I remember that the only thing that was
going through my head at the time was that I need to surface, or I’m going to
drown.
“I
swam to the surface as fast as I could, but I couldn’t push my head above the
water. I tried desperately to rise above
the surface but I couldn’t hold my head to the air long enough to catch a
breath. It was then that I realized that
I was not drowning and I could indeed breathe underwater.
“I
was so disoriented at this point that I thought (and yes I did think, although
my thoughts were rudimentary, I was self-aware) . . . anyway, I thought that it
was a distinct possibility that I was dead and this was some sort of afterlife.
I found myself in a little sphere of water that was set on a wooden surface in
an excruciatingly bright room.
“The
glass distorted everything outside the sphere of water and made it impossible
to make out the form of the objects that populated the room. One of the objects
moved slightly, and then grew bigger in size until a face suddenly appeared
before the glass.
“It
was my colleague, Dr. O’Hare, who was examining my condition. The experiment only lasted 22 seconds, and
then my consciousness was transferred back to my body, and here I am today.”
“Well,
it seems a glorious success,” cried the interviewer and the audience broke into
a monstrous applause.
The
frame minimized and an anchorman appeared in front of the picture, with that
kind of smile that is genuine but just makes you want to vomit.
“This
marks a milestone in the development of the Depression Epidemic Adaptation Distraction
or D.E.A.D. Dr. Higgins’ famous goldfish
experiments, completed almost six months ago, are now going through their first
clinical trials as an effective distraction for those affected by the
depression epidemic. And that’s the
Happy and Sad report, I’m Charles Turpin, your News 5 anchorman. Good morning, and be HAPPY!”
Dennis
turned off the television and sighed.
His
roommate Jerry got up off of the sofa and stretched. “Well, it seems like a good antidote for
society’s ails, just turn them all into goldfish.”
“Don’t
be such a Negative Nancy, Jerry. We all
know that some people really need this.
Some people are so sad that they don’t even do the Happy Dance in the
morning.”
Jerry
seemed disturbed. “Shit. I completely forgot to do my Happy
Dance.” He jumped in front of the TV and
started flailing his arms about in a circular pattern and stomping his feet.
“Jerry,
what if it’s too late? You know they are
strict about these things.”
“Well if I end up
getting detention then so be it. It was
an honest mistake,” he said, almost out of breath.
“Jerry, you’ve had
two detentions already, you can’t afford another. You know after the third detention they move
you up to the next level of punishments. I’ve heard that the first punishment
of the second tier is they take away your beer card.”
Jerry looked
horrified. “But . . . Beer is the only
thing that makes me happy.”
The two men stared
at each other silently as the clock hit 8 A.M.
There were piles of clothes on the floor and the carpet was
stained. Empty pizza boxes, beer cans,
and potato chip bags littered the floor, table, and sofa.
“Jerry, we’ve got
to go to work.”
“I know.”
They
boarded the train and found two vacant seats.
Dennis took the window seat and the train accelerated to 90 mph. The city rapidly moved by, and they entered
the outskirts.
The
train arrived in City-B23, and Dennis and Jerry got off in the business
district. They walked past the main
square and came to a crosswalk bustling with people. A man in a black government jumpsuit stood at
the corner, holding a bag of pixie sticks, but they were actually little sticks
of cocaine.
“Get
your Focus Sticks from a certified vendor!
Only five dollars! ”
Jerry
looked at Dennis. “I’m going to get one, you want one?”
“No,
no thanks, I’m already feeling focused.”
Jerry
paid for it and quickly ripped open and snorted it. Well, at least he would be productive. He was the slacker of the office, always
turning in reports several minutes late and taking way too many “urinary” breaks. The whole office knew he had a thing for
Alice, and they would meet in the alley to make out. His last two detentions were for these
romantic infractions. Who was he
fooling?
Well
now Jerry was all coked out and “focused” so the two men headed into a building
that looked more like an enlarged cinderblock than a place of work, and they
went up the elevator to where there were rows and rows of people working at
desks, typing on their tiny computers.
Burt,
the supervisor walked quickly up to Dennis and Jerry with a concerned look on
his face.
“Jerry,”
he said as he shook his head ominously, “Jerry, you really did it this
time. You fucked the pooch on this
one. I got an alert from high up that
you failed to complete your Happy Dance this very morning.”
Dennis
spoke up. “Look, Burt he did his Happy Dance, he just was very late, for some
reason he just had forgotten. I can
attest to it.”
“Is
this true,” asked Burt.
“Well,
yes, I don’t know what came over me, I just kind of sort of forgot, and well, I
remembered, and I did the whole dance, I just didn’t complete it by 7:30.”
Burt
was shaking his head still. He was a
little fat man with bulbous eyes. He
looked something like a pug.
“Jerry,
I think you’re in for it this time,” warned Dennis.
“Jerry,
I don’t want to do this to you, I never wanted to do this to anyone, but I see
now that I have no choice. I have an
obligation, no, a duty to administer the correct rewards, and if it be
necessary, the correct punishments. Please
follow me to my office.”
“See
you later, Jerry,” Dennis’ voice trailed off as Jerry followed the tiny man to
his office and he closed the door behind them.
“Jerry,
I need you to surrender your beer card.”
“But,
Burt, I don’t think I can do that, I mean beer is the only thing that is
keeping me sane right now I don’t think…”
“Jerry.”
“…
that I can bare it if I can’t have my daily ale, you might as well shoot me
right now, end my short little…”
“Jerry!”
“…
pathetic life. I never even did anything
important in this short time here in this wretched city, for the sake of friendship,
Burt, please let me keep my beer card.”
“Jerry!
Jerry! Jerry!” The little man was almost
exploding with impatience. Jerry broke
out in a full on wail as the poor man couldn’t even think of life without his
lager.
“Jerry,
surrender you beer card, or I will call in the enforcers. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
Jerry
shook his head in between sobs.
“Well
then, I’m waiting.”
Jerry
reached into his wallet and took out a little card and handed it hesitantly to
the fat man.
“I’m
going to have you visit the Happy Doctor now; he can help you with your
problems and turn that frown into a smile!”
Burt gave Jerry a hard pat on the back, turned around, and pressed a
button on the intercom calling for his secretary to escort Jerry to the
company’s in-house therapist.
Dennis
was hard at work, grinding out another report for the company until a petite
woman with bright red hair walked up to his desk. His heart was thumping and he resolved to not
look up from his work, he didn’t want to give her any ideas.
She
just stood there, waiting expectantly for him to give her a smile, anything to
break the ice.
Shit,
shit, shit, thought Dennis, I can’t get distracted now, I’m only one five star
report away from Employee of the Day. He
could see her long pale legs in his peripheral vision, and they had some sort
of gravity, because he had to strain his eye muscles to keep from looking at
her. Damn she’s still there, he thought,
what the fuck is she doing there?
Alright, alright, I’ll look up and smile at her, but only for a couple
of seconds. I can’t risk losing the
chance to get my 100th Employee of the Day Accolade; the company
gives you a damn good bonus for it.
He
looked up at her luscious freckled cheeks. She had a glowing smile.
“Hi
Dennis, I’m Ursula, your new desk-mate.
I’ll be on the other side of this partition, right across from you. I just felt like introducing myself to you.”
“Oh,
well thanks, that’s splendid. I . . . I
like your hair.” She blushed and turned away.
Why did I say that, he thought, am I insinuating something? Oh no, I think I just flirted with her,
that’s against company policy! Calm
down, Dennis, it’s not that big of a deal, just put your nose back in front of
your computer screen and continue the report.
Jerry
lay on a therapy couch, and the Happy Doctor, Dr. Leonard, sat in an armchair
with a notepad.
“Now,
Jerry, I want you to talk about your recent infraction. Do you know how it happened?”
“Well,
I just sort of forgot. I had been
thinking about other things and I didn’t remember the Happy Dance.”
“I
see, and how does that make you feel?”
“Well,
it makes me feel sad, because now I can’t get beer for like a month.”
“Mhm,
and what sorts of things were you thinking about when you were not thinking
about completing the Happy Dance?”
“Well,
lots of things. I had experienced my
first dream the night before.”
The
therapist looked alarmed, scribbling meticulously on his notepad.
“And
how did that make you feel?”
“Well,
it was invigorating. I was able to fly!”
“I
see, I see. Well that’s terrible. Dreams have been proven to greatly reduce
work output. I’m considering giving you
a prescription to Undreamex. It’s a
sedative that you take right before you go to sleep. It greatly reduces the possibility of having
these . . . dreams.” He said the last
word with disgust as if he was dealing with a pervert or a degenerate.
“I
don’t think I want that.”
“You’ll
have to take two before you go to sleep.”
He was already scribbling out the prescription.
“Doc,
I think that. . .”
“Don’t
think; thinking wastes time. Do! Maybe you’ll get somewhere in life if you
start doing. Look at your pal Dennis,
he’s pumping out five star reports like his life depends on it—and you know
what, Jerry?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “It does.”
He smiled and grabbed Jerry’s hand, pulling him up from the couch.
“Now
go get em’ tiger, and remember, BE HAPPY!”
Dr. Leonard pushed Jerry out of his office and slammed the door
loudly. The cracking sound of the wood
against the frame was drowned out by the noise of thousands of fingers typing
and printers printing.
A
break alert popped up on Dennis’ computer and he stopped typing. Ah, the first break of the day, he thought,
always the best one. The coffee is
fresh, and so are the conversations.
This would be a refreshing fifteen minutes.
He
began walking down the rows of desks towards one of the break rooms. He entered and grabbed a coffee mug, filled it
to the brim, and sipped vigorously, until he turned around and saw that
magnificent red hair again.
Shit,
he thought, what was her name? Too late
Dennis, we’re going to have to enter a conversation with this beautiful woman
without remembering her name and we’re going to have to try to finish the
conversation without making a fool of ourselves. You can do this. Just focus.
“Hi,
Dennis. Enjoying your coffee?”
“Indeed! It’s a dark roast. I love a dark roast.” Small talk. Dreadful.
Dennis smiled nervously and took another sip from his mug.
“Well,
so, where do you live, Dennis?”
“I
live in City-B22.”
“Oh
really, my aunt lives there.”
“Does
she now?”
“Yes,
so what are you doing working here if you live over there?”
“I
was transferred.”
“Oh,
what for, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“Well,
you see, another analyst was transferred in, and they didn’t have anywhere to
put him, so they transferred me here.”
“That’s
strange.”
“Yeah
well, you’re new here as well, aren’t you?”
“Yes,
I was promoted though, not transferred.
Say, I can’t wrap my head around it, you think there’s just one long
chain of people being transferred, going round and round to different branches
of the company?”
Dennis
had never thought of that.
“Well
there goes my self-worth. I’m just
another cog in the machine, aren’t I?”
What
was that, Dennis? Was that a hint of
depression? Get a hold of yourself man,
he thought, you’re courting a beautiful redhead right now, no time for feelings.
She smiled slightly. “Aren’t we all?”
“No,
I’m sorry I said that.”
“It’s
true though isn’t it?”
“No.”
There
was an awkward silence. Burt walked in
and helped himself to a donut, cramming his chubby cheeks to near capacity.
Shit
Dennis, you lost your chance. You had
her alone and you blew it. Okay, okay,
calm down, man, you’ll have plenty more chances—but will I? That asshole Evan was giving her googly
eyes—oh stop it, Dennis, he’s got nothing on you.
“Well,
Burt, how are you doing this fine morning?
“Productive
and focused! How about yourself,
Dennis?”
“Very
good—happy, sir. Very good and very
happy.”
Burt
smiled and took another bite of his donut.
“It’s
good to be happy. And being happy makes
everything good, doesn’t it, Dennis? You
agree, Ursula?” Ursula! That was her
name, of course.
“Why,
yes, yes it does,” said Ursula.
Burt
sat down at a table and began stirring cream into his coffee with a spoon. He picked up a newspaper and began to read
the headlines, until the stirring stopped abruptly. Ursula was staring at her feet quietly,
excluding herself from the pointless conversation.
“Well
would you look at that,” Burt said quietly, his voice trailed off as he
continued to read the article.
“Reginald
Orko, our beloved CEO passed away last night.”
A tear rolled down his face.
“That’s
terrible,” said Dennis.
“Horrendous,”
added Ursula.
“I
think I’ll go up to the roof; get some fresh air. You two should go back to work, the break is
almost over.” At that Burt left, and
Dennis and Ursula resumed their awkward silence.
The
air was suddenly hot as the elevator doors opened. Burt picked his head up and started stepping
slowly forward onto the roof, looking left and right nervously, as if he had
crossed through a portal into a familiar fantastical realm once again.
He
walked towards the edge of the building, looking out at the silver city as it
breathed its machinations, its billboards switching like clockwork, its
smokestacks belching at regular intervals.
Burt
was a tidy man; straight-edged and obedient.
As a supervisor he had a few more privileges than your average worker,
and he had begun to enjoy the wide-open sky once a week at break time. More importantly he had begun thinking. Now, thinking is an action that this little
fat man was not accustomed to and his thoughts were frantic and overwhelming
most times, but occasionally he had a worthwhile thought and today was one of
those days.
What
is death, he asked himself. Well, death
is the end, and Mr. Orko reached it. Why
is there death? Surely death is contrary
to happiness; it is the termination of life as we know it, the abyss. Why must we be happy, if we will eventually
all die; what is the purpose of our happiness, for pleasure, enjoyment, and
satisfaction? These are the good things
in life.
Burt became
apprehensive about his thoughts, because he had never had such deep questions
asked of him. He was frightened that he
was sick, because these thoughts made him sweat and question his existence. Then he remembered that in no way could
anyone discover his thoughts, and he was safe, so he continued.
So was Mr. Orko
happy until his death? Had he fulfilled
his purpose?
So
many times, he thought, I heard him crying in his stationary closet. Are these the marks of a happy man? No, no, they are the marks of a depressed
man. And how could our beloved CEO, who
perpetuates such an ideal of complete happiness, not be happy himself? What have we done wrong?
Am
I happy? I have certainly had success,
but am I where I want to be?
At
this very moment Burt realized he had absent-mindedly moved himself up onto the
ledge, only a few inches from certain death.
He stepped back off of the ledge in terror of what might have happened
and slipped suddenly, managing to grasp the edge of the ledge with one
hand. His pudgy hand, vibrating with
fright, released a day’s worth of sweat which had the marvelous effect of
loosening the poor man’s grip, and after a momentary intake of breath, Burt
fell. His second-to-last thought was, “I
wonder if I’m the last philosopher.
Maybe I’ll go down in the history books.” It was then that he had his last thought, and
he realized that the schools didn’t teach philosophy anymore, and more
importantly, he hadn’t written any of his insights down, and he frowned at this
fact.
“Dennis, thank God
I found you,” said Jerry.
“I’m at my desk,
where I am for 90 percent of the work day.”
“Well, I’m just
glad to see you. They made me visit the
Happy Doctor, I mean can you believe that?
Can you believe that that would ever happen to me?”
“Well,
it’s not unexpected. You didn’t do the
Happy Dance, so they made you pay a visit to the Happy Doctor. Cause and effect, Jerry.”
“Hey! I make one mistake and everyone thinks I’m
mental!”
“Jerry,
the Happy Dance is routine for everyone, it should be drilled very deeply into
your skull by now. How could you forget
it? The only plausible explanation is
that you are indeed mental.”
“Oh,
so you’re with them now? How could you,
Dennis? I thought we were buds; pals;
mates. Like this:” Jerry crossed his middle finger over his
index finger. “But no, that’s all gone
now, I guess. Whatever. I don’t need your support or
encouragement. I’m going to take the
rest of the day off for ‘mental’ reasons and go home and pack my things. I’ll find a new roommate.”
“You
do that.”
“I
will, you. . . you. . . ass!” Jerry stormed away from Dennis and tapped
fiercely on the elevator button, as if that would make it go any faster. It arrived and he got in the elevator with
Dr. Leonard.
“Feeling
better after our little chat?”
“Piss
off.” The doors opened again and Jerry
trudged through the lobby and out of the doors and stopped abruptly. His jaw dropped and he let out a
glass-breaking girly scream at the top of his lungs.
Burt lay in a
bloody heap at Jerry’s feet, having “jumped” from the roof of the building.
Dennis finished
his last report, gathered his things, and made his way quickly out of the
building to find a mess of paramedics and gawkers strewn across the boulevard. The body had been removed almost immediately
after it was discovered, and all that was left was the blood of a thinker. Dennis avoided the crowd and rode the train
back to his apartment. The door was
cracked and he entered quickly, knocking into Jerry as he carried a box full of
his things.
“So you’re really
leaving?”
“Yes, and you know
what, I’m happy, happier then you’ll ever be,” shouted Jerry as he pushed past
Dennis.
“You can’t just
run away from your life, Jerry.”
“This isn’t my
life, and you aren’t my friend. I need
friends that will support me.”
“No, you need to
take a look at what you’re doing to the company. You are the poster-boy for slackers. You never complete reports on time, and you
rarely contribute to the common success of your co-workers.”
“I don’t need this.”
Jerry began to storm away.
“You
do though.” Dennis put his hand on
Jerry’s shoulder. “Listen, Jerry, I feel sorry for you, I really do. But you can’t swim against the current. You have to do what you’re told, and you have
to do it proficiently. I’m not trying to
be condescending, or to make it out that I’m better than you, because I’m
not. I care about you, man, and I don’t
want anything bad to happen to you, but if you keep doing what you’re doing,
you’ll have to deal with the consequences.
I’m not joking when I say that. I
wouldn’t be surprised if they put you in prison for your negative impacts on
the company.”
Jerry’s
face suddenly contorted into that of a small child whose lollipop had been
taken away. The walls that he had
created to block out the impending doom of his situation had collapsed. All that was left was a small, whiny man who
was sobbing profusely.
“Dennis,
I don’t want to.” Jerry dropped the box
he was carrying on the floor.
“You
don’t want to do what, Jerry?”
“I
don’t wanna go to prison. I don’t wanna
have the bosses be mad at me. I don’t
wanna be the bad guy. I just want my
mommy.” Jerry had broken down
completely. He slid down into a fetal
position against the wall and bawled his eyes out.
“Jerry,
Jerry, hush, hush!” Dennis slid down
beside him and cradled him. “Jerry, I
know this is hard for you, I know it is, but you can deal with it. You’re strong. I’ll help you meet your report quota. You can do it.”
“NOOOOO!”
Jerry screamed and continued into further sobbing, completely loosing
himself. He then got up and ran down the
hall like a little girl. The elevator
doors closed before Dennis could reach them, and Jerry got into a taxi before
Dennis could get down the stairs.
Well,
shit, thought Dennis as he returned to his room.
The
next morning, Dennis felt completely alone in his morning routine. Jerry and Dennis had been roommates ever
since Academy, and had forged a kind of brotherhood; a bond to trudge through
the corporate obstacles that seemed to arise most days. It was a kind of adventure, with the
supervisors as dragons, and the pretty ladies as the princesses that they had
to save. In fact, thought Dennis, we
have never been apart before, except for the occasional affairs with the
aforementioned princesses.
After
readying himself for the day, Dennis began to walk towards the train
station. The sky was a dolorous grey, as
it always had been, and the air was crowded with cottonwood seeds, as spring
was waxing to summer. Dennis felt as if
the balls of fluff were attacking him, sticking themselves to his suit and
flying into his eyes and nose. He became
extremely distressed and started flailing his briefcase around, trying to bat
down the little seeds.
“Fuck
you, and you, oh and you thought I would forget about you, you little
shit? Well fuck you, too!” He broke into a feverish dance, spinning
around and around, trying to kill all of the cottonwood seeds.
Other
commuters were beginning to stare, some pulling out their phones and calling the
enforcers. A black van arrived seconds
later, two men dressed in white jumpsuits who had been standing on the fender
jumped off and jogged over to where Dennis was, and he now had his hands
stuffed with cottonwood seeds.
“Dennis,
we’re here to help you,” said one of the men.
“Don’t
be afraid, you must never be afraid, we’re here to bring you happiness,” said
the other.
“Are
these yours?” Dennis held out the seeds.
“No
they’re yours; you can keep them, just come with us.”
“I
don’t want them!” he screamed.
“Dennis
please come willingly, you must come willingly.”
“Stay
away from me!”
The
two men looked at each other and nodded, sweeping Dennis off of his feet and
carrying him to the black van which then drove away, squealing its tires and
spinning around a corner. The commuters
retrieved their briefcases from the ground where they had set them down to
spectate Dennis’ ordeal, and continued walking towards the train station, and
they breathed out a collective sigh, relieved that they weren’t the ones to
have been so helplessly chosen as the epidemic’s next victim.
“I
think I love you, Dennis.”
Ursula’s
eyes. Ursula’s precious eyes.
“I
love you, Ursula.”
“Why
are you so sad?”
“I’m
not. I’m very happy.”
“No,
you’re not, you’re crying.”
“I
am not. It must be my allergies.”
“No,
look at your eyes.” She puts a mirror in
front of my face. My eyes are
waterfalls.
Dennis woke up
with a man’s foot in his face.
“Don’t be afraid.”
“Get your foot off
of my face.”
“Lick
it. I would like it if you lick my
foot.”
Dennis
opened his eyes and grabbed the foot and twisted it with all his strength. A tall man with wild eyes and unkempt hair
fell to the floor of the cage with a wail of pain.
Dennis,
not fully awake, was suddenly overwhelmed with the sound of moaning and
complaining coming from the adjacent cells.
He pulled himself to his feet and realized he was standing in a
chain-link cube approximately nine by nine feet in its dimensions, which was
connected to hundreds, no, thousands of identical cubes filled with very sullen
looking people.
“The
world is coming down on my shoulders” and “If I died today no one would care”
and “I feel so trapped” were things that Dennis could pick out of the gloomy
droning.
He turned back to the man who was writhing on
the floor in pain.
“Where
are we?”
“The
point of no return.”
“No
really, where are we?”
“In
the cul-de-sac of life, my friend.”
“Well,
shit.”
A
low buzzing noise became louder and louder until a small hoverpad stopped in
front of Dennis’ cell.
“Well,
hello there, Dennis,” said a man in a white lab-coat. He had black, slicked black hair, a gaunt
face, and a marvelous nose. “I want to
welcome you to our facilities here at the Depression Epidemic Rehabilitation
Center. I’m also here to tell you that
because of all of your hard work at the company, you qualify for an exclusive
position in the D.E.A.D. program. Would
you like to be a participant?
It
was only a matter of time, thought Dennis; they all knew it was going to
happen. They all knew I would become
depressed. But, am I depressed? I have to be or they wouldn’t have put me
here. They know what’s best for me. At least all my hard work can finally pay
off.
“Yes,
I would like to be a participant.”
“Brilliant.” The man unlocked the cell and pulled Dennis
onto the hoverpad, and quickly locked the cell again. “My name is Dr. Higgins, pleased to make your
acquaintance, Dennis. Please be patient
while I finish collecting those who qualify for the program from their cells.”
Dennis
nodded as the hoverpad accelerated and he looked down, and then up. The cells went on for what seemed like a
couple hundred feet below and above for a couple thousand feet.
“How
many cells are there?” Dennis asked.
“50,000
transition cells, and 10,000 permanent cells.
Those in the transition cells we hope to have rehabilitated within two
weeks of their arrival. The permanent
cells are for those hopelessly lost in their depressions.”
“How
does the rehabilitation work?”
“Most
methods we use are brutal and inefficient, but now with the new D.E.A.D.
program, we can effectively, and permanently, distract a small percentage of
those affected with the disease; like you.”
Dr.
Higgins finished retrieving the rest of the participants; there were 12
including Dennis. He flew the hoverpad
to a platform and used a keycard to open a massive steel door.
He turned back to
the group and said calmly, “Please, follow me.”
I
am depressed, he thought, and these kind people are going to help me. I can’t believe I am depressed! How could this happen to me? I did everything that I was told. I followed all the rules and the epidemic
still reached me. I suppose no one is
immune then.
Dennis melted into
the middle of the circle of participants like a fish into its school. Dr. Higgins led the group down a white hall
towards another steel door, which he unlocked again with his keycard. The door opened to a room filled with odd
things.
To
the right was a table on which sat six potatoes. To the left was a table on which sat ten garden
gnomes. Below the glass floor was a pool
filled with goldfish. Dr. Higgins turned
around and gestured at each of the distractions.
“To
your left is a brand new distraction, fresh out of the laboratories; gnomes. Yes, all ten of the gnomes that you see on
that table are inhabited by the minds of ten previously depressed persons. They were only transferred an hour ago, and
we have plans to auction them as garden ornaments to the highest bidders to
support the continuation of the program.
You may touch them gently.”
The
group moved over to the table and began to caress the gnomes; their mouths wide
open in wonder, like six-year-olds that had caught their first bullfrogs.
“Alright,
please return the gnomes gently to their original position, and look over
here,” Dr. Higgins pointed at the potatoes on the other table. “Potatoes were our second addition to the
D.E.A.D. program, and they also are inhabited by the minds of six previously
depressed men and women like you, and you, and you.” He winked. “Potatoes proved to be the most ideal
vegetable for consciousness transfers because of their acidity, which
correlates directly with consciousness retention. You may touch them, but do not eat them,” he
chuckled.
There
was a general gasp as the group fondled the potatoes carefully. Dennis picked up a potato and examined it
closely. It looked exactly the same as
any other potato. He held it up to his
ear and shook it.
“Now
if you all would place the potatoes back on the table, and take a look below
you. You are standing on a 10,000 gallon
pool filled with Carassius
auratus auratus, more commonly referred to as simply, the
goldfish. This distraction was our
breakthrough, and it allowed us to secure the funding we needed to build the
D.E.A.D. program. I myself was a
goldfish for 22 seconds as most of you already know, and I have to say, it was
a marvelous experience,” he smiled widely and itched his magnificent nose.
6
men and 6 women dressed in 12 white suits carrying 12 clipboards and 12 pens
entered the room silently.
“These
are your interviewers. They will lead
each of you into an interviewing room, and determine which distraction will be
more suitable to your needs. Naturally,
every person is unique, and you each may require different distractions
depending on your level of depression.
Interviewers, please take your interviewees to their rooms and begin the
process.”
A
woman with blonde hair and freckles stepped towards Dennis and smiled.
No,
it couldn’t be, thought Dennis. But
where is the red hair? She was a spy! An
infiltrator! She tricked me! That bitch!
“Ursula?”
“Not
now, Dennis. Follow me to the
interviewing room.” Dennis shut his
mouth against his impulse to scream obscenities at the woman. He followed her down three very long
corridors until she unlocked a door with the number “12” on it.
“Please,
after you.” Dennis stepped inside
hesitantly and glared at Ursula intensely.
“Don’t
say a word,” she whispered angrily. “I’m
here to get you out of here.”
“But,
how? How can I trust you?”
“Hush!
You don’t have a choice, you’ll follow my lead, or you’ll turn into a
goldfish.”
“Is
everything alright in there,” asked a droning voice over the intercom.
“Perfect,
thank you,” said Ursula loudly. “Now,
Dennis, I would like you to sit down in the chair and answer my questions to
the best of your knowledge.”
“Okay.” Dennis sat down.
“To
begin with, do you consider yourself depressed?”
“I
think.”
“Yes
or no?”
“Yes.”
“Have
you lost all hope for continuing your career?”
“Yes.”
“Do
you tend to push your friends away as a result of your depression?”
“No.” Dennis thought of Jerry. “I mean yes.”
“When
was the last time you had sex?”
“What
does that have to do with anything?!”
“Answer
the question.”
Dennis
sighed. “Six years, two months, and twenty-three days ago.”
Ursula
snickered under her breath. “And the
final question is: What is your favorite color?”
Dennis
raised his left eyebrow. “Orange.” Oh shit.
I’m going to be a goldfish. Oh,
but not if Ursula helps me escape!
“Good.” Ursula picked one of three stamps up off of a
table and stamped the paper she had been scribbling on. She then fed the paper through a slot in the
wall.
“Please
escort your interviewee to operating room number one,” said the voice over the
intercom.
Ursula
motioned for Dennis to get up and she led him out of the room and into the
corridor.
“Follow
my lead.” Ursula led Dennis down the
corridor in the opposite direction of a big neon sign that said “Operating
Rooms This Way”.
“We
need to run now. We only have a small
window of time.”
They came upon
another large steel door and Ursula unlocked it with a keycard. The door opened to a glass sky-bridge.
“Give me a lift,
I’ll pull you up from the top,” she said.
“You mean we’re
going on top of this thing?”
“Hurry! We don’t have any time!”
Dennis grabbed
Ursula’s waist and pushed her up to a hatch that opened to the roof of the
sky-bridge. She opened the hatch and
pulled herself up, then lie prone extending her delicate hands to lift him the
few inches to the edge of the hatch so he could pull himself up.
Suddenly, the
steel door opened and Dr. Higgins walked through quickly, followed by a detail
of enforcers.
“Dennis, you
don’t want to do this! You are
depressed. Your best friend left you and
your life is in ruins. Distraction is
the only solution!”
Dennis looked
at Ursula nervously, then back at Dr. Higgins who was now standing ten feet
from him.
“Dennis, you
must escape with me! You are not
depressed! We can be happy together,”
cried Ursula, still extending her arms towards him.
“But where
would we go?”
“I know of a
place! Just, please, grab my hands!”
“Dennis, she is
deranged and delusional. You must stay
here. You will be safe in no other
place!”
Dennis, you
have to make a decision, he thought. You
must choose between a life of safe serenity, or dangerous evasion. What is there out there? There is nothing for me. I am not a fugitive. I could never run from the company. I am a worker, diligent, obedient, and . . .
depressed. The company has a remedy and
I must do as they say. I am on the
precipice of discovery. I am on the
frontier of modern medicine. I am
Dennis, the goldfish.
“Dennis,
please! I love you. I can’t live without
you!” cried Ursula. Sweet Ursula, it can
never work between us.
“No. I’m sorry, Ursula. Run.
Run while you still can!” Dennis
walked peacefully towards Dr. Higgins as Ursula jumped off of the sky-bridge in
the hopeless agony of her lost love. Only
Dr. Higgins and the enforcers witnessed the woman’s leap to her death. Dennis strode proudly towards Dr. Higgins,
confident in his decision.
“Dennis, I want
you to breathe deeply. Now clear your
mind.”
There was
electricity. There was cold water. There was confusion. There was stillness. Then there were questions.
