“True terror is to wake up one morning and discover that your high school class is running the country.”
-Kurt Vonnegut
8:57 am
The politician sat at his oversized, mahogany desk in the large, white, circular room, staring at the clock on the far wall. The enormous, black chair in which he sat was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable because, at that moment, he felt everything he had never before felt. Sweat was dripping down his face and neck, wetting his short brown hair, and pooling in the fabric beneath his underarms. His brain felt as if it were expanding inside his head, swelling so greatly that it would not be contained within the walls of his skull much longer. The clock’s hands ticked at a speed slower than time and the faint tick-tock of its movements rang like an out-of-tune symphony in his ears. The arms were minutes away from nine o’clock. The day would begin soon, but the politician remained motionless watching the clock, eyes never straying from the second hand ticking, ticking, ticking, seeming as if it would never reach the twelve painted in the block font that had been ruled the only font allowed. Standardizing the font ensured that no writing would seem better than another and no sign would be more beautiful than another. He heard her clunky shoes on the marble floor in the hallway outside. His eyes stayed locked on the long arm of the clock. The pain was becoming unbearable, but he wanted to hold on. If he could make it until 9:01, he would be able to remember what he needed, but the pain ripped through his muscles and he wondered why anyone would want to feel like this.
8:58 am
Lifting a shaky hand, he grasped for the bottle of pills somewhere on his desk. He couldn’t hold on. His hands knocked over stacks of blank papers and cups of unused pens until he found the cylindrical container. Her steps grew closer to his door, their cacophonous clicking even louder, echoing against the cold walls of the hallway.
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8:59 am
As his sweaty palms fumbled with the orange bottle, the torturous steps ended outside his door and he could see her shadow beneath the door frame, crawling across the pale blue carpeting of his office. They were both waiting for the strike of nine as always. When the container finally opened, he discovered only one pill left, clinging against the smooth walls of the plastic bottle. He poured it into his hand and held up the small, circular pill so that it completely covered the clock on the opposite wall. He could still see the arms of the clock because the pill was completely translucent, like a solid circle of air between his fingers. The mocking red hand of the clock was spiraling closer to twelve. He popped the disc of air into his mouth. No flavor. It dissolved on his tongue, sending a tingling sensation through the nerves in his mouth and down his throat. He felt the electricity crawl its way to his mind.
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9:00 am
The door opened. He felt his body relax and his mind go numb in the pleasure of the electric current. He tried to remember what had made him so sweaty. She walked in.
“Hello George, I see I need to restock your pills,” she said, eyeing the discarded bottle in the middle of his desk.
“Thank you, Hedy. What would I do without my best assistant?” The politician grinned widely at the woman in the neutral-brown pantsuit, just once he wished she would wear a skirt or unbutton her unattractive shirts a bit, but rules are rules. No uniform is to imply any gender, he reminded himself. A subtle shock shot through his body and he felt a sudden dose of calmness. His previous thoughts were now forgotten in the enchanting serenity coursing through his mind.
“Sir, are you ready for your speech? We will be live at ten o’clock.” She walked closer to his desk, picking up the empty pill bottle, and laying a small stack of papers in front of him.
“My fellow Americans” was the first line, printed in the standard font like every other speech he had received since he started his term seventeen years ago.
He shook his head and stared at Hedy. He fought to remember what she had asked. “I’m sorry, one more time. My old age is making me hard of hearing.”
“Just meet me in the studio at ten o’clock. You will be reading this.” She turned to walk back out into the hallway, but stopped, “Oh, and sir, no need to edit this one, it has been thoroughly reviewed by everyone who has authority to read it. We don’t want another confusing situation like last time. I will get these pills refilled asap and see you at ten.” She smiled, turned back, and left. Her clicking heels fading into silence. The politician reclined in his chair, body numb, watching the hands of the clock carelessly tick, tick, tick, until ten o’clock. And with glazed over eyes he felt nothing but happiness and thought of nothing, absolutely nothing.
***
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8:57 am
The professor squeezed out of the overly-crowded bus and onto the sidewalk in front of the school where he had just been hired. The sand-colored, brick building was tall and square and the parking lot was empty. Most parking lots were empty ever since the recent law forbidding civilian use of cars. Owning a car discriminated against those who could not afford one and the professor was pleased with that. No one should feel less than human for not being able to afford something. Oddly, the sidewalk was bare as well. Class would begin at nine o'clock, the students must already be inside, he thought.
The quiet, unadorned, grey hallways, with red and blue tile floors, held no images, banners, or school-pride items, except for one. There was a large framed mural of a blonde woman that decorated an entire wall just inside the front door. The professor gazed upon the shrine, feeling his heart throbbing against his chest, a terrible feeling he did not enjoy. He recognized the woman. Harriet Clade. An adored actress. She was in every movie released this year and was an idol to everyone in the country including the professor. Her golden eyes bore into his and his eyes burned with the hint of a memory that he could not quite grasp, but the pain in his heart was too much to bear. As he desperately tried to remember the source of his pain, a tv monitor just above the mural buzzed on. He saw Hedy Jones, the first lady, standing beside the lovely Harriet. He watched as Harriet spoke directly to him saying, “Always remember to take your pill at 9 o’clock both morning and night. Take it from me, no one wants to feel the pain of reality.”
Hedy smiled at Harriet and responded, “Don’t you want to listen to your beloved star? Harriet loves the pill.”
The screen cut out.
He rummaged through his jacket before finding the small, golden box that held his pills. He wanted to wait until 9 o’clock, but he couldn’t. He quickly swallowed one early, not wanting to feel the pain of gladly forgotten memories, and began to walk down the hall. A small, stout woman with brown ringlets framing her face sat at a desk in the middle of the rotunda. The professor walked toward her.
“H-hello, my name is Vaughn… uh, Vaughn Gait.” The professor stuttered. The woman looked up at him, with a smile of intense joy and cloudy eyes.
“You must be the new professor.” She squealed, “I heard you moved all the way here from California. That's quite a far transition from California to Indiana.” She said as she began to assemble a stack of papers.
“Yes, yes it was. California is a beautiful place, but I had to leave.”
“Why did you have to leave, if you don't mind my asking?” She stopped stacking the papers and looked up at him, the skin around her eyes twitching with discomfort.
“I-I don’t remember,” he said. The professor felt the back of his neck grow clammy as he tried to think of the reason for his departure, but only flashes of happiness filled his thoughts.
“Such a shame, I've always wanted to travel there. It just looks like the perfect place and Harriet Clade lives there. I’ve always wanted to meet her.” The lady said sweetly, her eyes losing their twitch as she handed him the stack of papers. “Take these and we'll get you to your classroom. I know the students will be waiting.”
“What are these?” The professor asked, unfazed by the mention of Harriet as he looked at the multicolored pages. They were blank.
“Some of them are events that are happening around the school, we have quite a few, and the rest are the rules that the students and professors must follow to maintain sufficient conduct. I wouldn’t worry too much about them. We are just like every other school.” She smiled revealing dimples on both sides of her round face.
8:58 am
The woman stood and the sound of the wooden chair legs scraping across the tile filled the large, empty room with a sound like nails across a chalkboard. She led the professor down a large hallway, with brown, wooden doors shut tightly on each side. The lights along the ceiling glowed unnaturally, illuminating every detail of the immaculate tiles and every imperfection on the walls. The only sounds were the low thuds of his thick loafers and of her small heels clicking inconsistently with his.
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8:59 am
They stopped in front of a door about halfway down the hallway. It looked the same as all the others. She opened it and sent another unpleasant creek through the quiet space. Thirty or so sets of dull, but happy eyes locked on the professor as he entered the classroom.
“Class, this is your new professor, Mr. Vaughn Gait. He's moved all the way here from California just to teach you all, so be respectful as I'm sure you will be.”
“Thank you, Ms. Dorothy.” The class said in monotoned unity. Dorothy flashed the professor her cute smile before waddling out and down the hall. He shut the door behind her and walked to the small, wooden pedestal in the center of the classroom. He pulled out the large history textbook, the cover embossed with images of smiling children from around the world.
“All right everyone, turn to page 137, chapter 3. We will be covering the years 1939 through 1945.” He watched as each student slammed their textbooks onto their desks and flipped noisily through the pages. He waited until the unpleasant sound had ceased before starting his lecture.
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9:00 am
The professor adored history and loved to read about the happiness of the past. He especially enjoyed the period he was going to lecture about today. Throughout all of history, he thought this time was the greatest example of human kindness. He was greatly inspired by how the American people strove to help the struggling Germans out of poverty. He loved the way the world united in helping those who were less fortunate. But, he was always surprised by how little this time period was covered in textbooks. He thought of removing the black tape that covered most of the lines in the book, but he understood that those lines would bring him sadness. It was also against the law to read about the discomforting side of history, it would subject the children to sadness and pain, feelings that were greatly frowned upon. In all his years of teaching, the professor knew this section to be the most hidden with black tape, but it was also the section covered by three or four layers of tape in certain places, so there was no possibility of seeing through the plastic covering. He momentarily wondered how terrible this section of history could have been, but then he felt the effects of his pill and his mind relaxed into a pleasant, incurious state. He began his lecture.
***
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10:00 am
The politician dabbed his forehead with his tie. He hated everything about speeches, the hot lights blaring at him, the sticky make-up plastered to his face to hide his age, and the memorization of his lines. He always wondered why he had to remember the lines when he had a perfectly good script. Hedy had told him it was to make it seem more sincere, but he internally questioned whether or not the people should know he had not written them. In fact, he barely knew how to write, let alone create speeches as profound as Hedy’s. He cleared his throat as the cameraman silently counted backward from three using only his fingers. When the red light flashed on, the politician knew it was time to speak.
“My fellow Americans,” he began in a tone he was trained to use when speaking publicly, “I present morose news, for the lovely Harriet Clade shockingly killed herself last night. It comes as a surprise to us all that such a beloved and famous actress could do something so horrid to her dear fans, friends, and family. And now you're asking why am I, the president of the United States, am presenting this unhappy information to you and not the national news station. This death is not something to look past. I think this is a cry for change in our country. What terrible depression had this woman endured to make the decision to end her life? As most of you know Harriet was married and she and her husband had been trying desperately to conceive a child. Though Harriet, as with most of us, was sterile, her husband decided she was no longer good enough for him, because he wanted a child of his own. Regardless of the fact that she had dedicated her love to him for nearly a decade, he abandoned her, moving somewhere to the middle of the country where many people roam wild and savage and ignorant to the necessity of progress. So, devastated, Harriet took her life. As a good citizen, you're asking what can be done to prevent such horrific acts? I stand here to awaken you to the unforgiving heartbreak of love. Love and pain coincide. To love is to hurt. Additionally, those who cannot find love feel unworthy. Pain is an inevitable ending. So my fellow Americans, I ask what can be done to stop us all from suffering this pain? Why should it be okay for people to subject themselves to such torture? And those who are ignorant of this self-infliction, I would like to enlighten you. The only solution is to abolish love. There will be a vote today at 9:00 PM for the passing of amendment 397. The voting period will end just as Harriet’s funeral ceremony will start. Let us give her death meaning. I want each and every one of you to understand the urgency of this request. Our goal as a country is to end pain, end suffering, and end discrimination! Stand with me against this fatal disorder of the heart. Its rampage must be stopped. Thank you for tuning in and, as always, bless our country.”
The red light faded out.
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10:05 am
The politician sat back in his chair. His jaw aching from using the false voice Hedy had suggested him use. The voice was more familiar, she said it would help him connect with the common people in a friendlier way. They would trust him more. He felt a deep pain in his chest, a slight feeling of sadness that he did not like. He wanted it to leave, so his mind could be at peace. Harriet had been his favorite actress. He wondered who her husband had been because he thought he should have paid for his lack of empathy toward his wife. He hated the feeling of sadness that pulsed through him and he would do anything to stop it.
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***
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10:00 am
The professor finished his lecture just as the intercom blared its static through the round speakers on the white ceiling of the small classroom. The dissonance changed into Dorothy’s sweet voice, sounding mechanical and unnatural through the speakers.
“Faculty, turn your screens to the national broadcasting station. Our president is making an announcement,” the mechanical voice finished speaking and a loud, shrill wail reverberated through the speakers. Then there was silence. The professor turned on the screen behind him as instructed and moved the pedestal so the children could watch clearly. For a few seconds, nothing appeared on the screen except for the presidential seal and then the president appeared. He was sitting at a mahogany desk with nothing atop it except his hands resting on top of one another. He sat straight with eyes directly toward the camera so that he made eye contact with everyone watching. With every speech the man seemed to grow younger, the professor thought.
“My fellow Americans,” The politician said in his calming voice that the professor admired.
The professor watched as the president addressed a melancholy topic about the star who had killed herself over the loss of her husband. The professor felt saddened by this unfortunate outcome of his favorite actress. He thought she would certainly have become president one day herself. She had always been so inspiring.
The politician continued to discuss the evilness of love and the professor found himself agreeing. Love was terrible. There was no peace in desire. He grew angry at the evilness of people who wanted to hurt those who loved them. How could anyone think it was all right to love when there was so much that could end that love? So many outcomes that could cause another person’s pain.
At the end of the president’s speech, the whole class was chanting in agreement to Amendment 397. They all understood love’s fatal destruction. The professor was delighted at the intelligence of their chants. He was pleased that everyone could vote, even those underage because the children in his class understood the importance of progress. He was overjoyed with their courage to fight against a thing that causes so much pain.
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10:05 am
The professor looked back at the screen. Images of the actress flashed one by one, stopping on a picture of Harriet and her husband. The class stopped chanting and regarded their professor who was staring blankly at the sight of Harriet and himself.
Text flashed on the screen, “If you see this man, do not hesitate to take action. He is dangerous.”
The professor stared at the image, trying to remember a time when he was in love. Trying to remember being with her, but his mind was as blank as the pages Dorothy had given him. He felt his mind and body surge with agony in trying to override the pill’s effects and remember the forgotten memories of him and Harriet. And through this pain, he did not hear the children rise from their seats and circle around him. He did not hear their chants as they began to claw and scrape him. And while he died, he did not scream, he could not feel the pain of their violence, his body too numb, his mind too lost. Yet, he was proud of their courage to fight for what they believed in and he himself would have fought with them if he could.
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***
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8:57 pm
The mortician stood leaning over the body of the recently deceased woman laying on his cold, metal table. Her toe tag read Harriet Clade. The mortician had seen the broadcast that morning and knew this was the famous actress who had killed herself. He had almost finished dressing the body for burial, carefully laying the hands on top of one another over her abdomen. Just as he was sweeping the last of the stray hairs out of her face, the girl’s agent burst back into the room.
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8:58 pm
“Kurt please, are you finished yet? Harriet’s ceremony is right after the vote.” The agent said in a hurried manner.
“I am finished,” the mortician spoke quietly, he was not a man of many words, especially to Harriet’s agent. She was a frightening woman and under no means would it be beneficial to disagree with her.
“Good,” she said calming her tone slightly, “I'm just glad we demanded the body before news of her pregnancy spread.”
“Her pregnancy? Didn't the president say she was sterile? The autopsy didn’t list a pregnancy.” The mortician looked down at the young, beautiful girl that lay on his table.
The woman looked at him in a way that seemed as if she could trust him. She decided she could. “Harriet was a prominent propaganda figure of the people, but she found out she was pregnant and had stopped taking her pills for the benefit of the child. She was our only chance at passing this Amendment, but once she stopped taking the pills, she rebelled against our government, so we had to do what must be done. You understand that don't you Kurt?” She said in a voice that held no trace of emotion.
“Y-yes I do, Hedy,” he stuttered.
“I will see you again in about half an hour. We need the body then.” Hedy turned and walked out of the room.
The mortician’s pill was wearing off. He felt his mind grow heavy with guilt as he looked at the calm, peaceful body of the young girl who had fallen victim to a political battle and the agony of his morality pushed him after the woman. He looked at the clock. He still had two minutes, before the real pain set in.
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8:59 pm
The mortician ran down the hallway, his boots thunderously stopping along the cement floor.
“Hedy!” He shouted after the woman dressed in the unflattering pantsuit. She turned and stopped, but never looked up from the tablet in her hand, furiously typing away.
“What do you need, Kurt? I have one minute before the vote goes live.” She continued typing.
“You have to tell the public she was pregnant.” His voice was gruff from not enough use and his hand shook with fear for what she would say. She stopped typing and looked down at him.
“Why would I do that?”
“B-becasue its the truth,” he stammered.
She looked down at him, her slender cheeks under the hard, florescent light made her look ghostly. She smiled coyly. “Kurt, do you think that we should hurt the people more? Their favorite actress already died should we make them sadder with news of her pregnancy that will never be? Do you think I should give them more information to grieve?”
The mortician’s eyes fell out of contact with hers. “No, that would be too sad to think about.” He felt the pain boil in his chest and he could feel his hand twitching, reaching for his pill.
“I’m glad you understand. It’s getting close to nine o’clock, you should be taking your pill. You look feverish.” She wiped a boney hand across his forehead.
The mortician relaxed as he walked back into the room where Harriet's body remained, frozen and lifeless. He looked down at her and felt comforted that he had placed her hands in such a way that it looked as if she was cradling her stomach. He turned on the screen and the presidential seal brightened the dark room. He shoved a hand in his oversized pant pocket and dug around for a pill. He could feel sweat covering his body and he shook with the exhaustion of feeling and the effort of thinking. He wanted to collapse in the pain of his enlarging mind, but he swallowed the pill and waited for the vote.
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9:00pm
The mortician watched as the TV flickered from the presidential seal to the voting ballot. The one-sentence question, “Should Amendment 397 be passed?” flashed violently on his out-of-date screen. He felt a slight stab in his chest, saddened by something, but the pill’s sensation started to take effect. His mind shrank back into numbness and he was happy once again as he walked to the screen and used his finger to gently cast his vote. The screen went black.
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***
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9:10pm
The president sat numbly with Hedy as she watched the TV track the votes. His body relaxed into a state of serenity after taking his second pill of the day.
The professor’s body still lay in a pool of blood in the classroom where the children courageously fought for their beliefs. Harriet’s funeral began to play on the screen in his empty class.
The mortician had a brief thought that Harriet had gained some weight since he saw her last movie as the star’s body was taken out of the room.
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And Amendment 397 was passed.