I have been feeling pretty queasy for
the last couple of days. I couldn’t really explain it. I knew it couldn’t be
something I ate, so I just blamed it on the stress. The problem is, I didn’t
really have a reason to feel stress. Retiring in your thirties is hardly a
reason to feel uneasy. Still, I managed to keep that sensation at bay as I
drove my car up to the hospital.
The door slid open with a barely
audible beep. Someone should take care of that, I said to myself. The tall walls
of the hallway were lined with huge windows. Screens with paintings of nature
filled out the spaces that were not made of glass. The overall effect was
pretty tacky, but at least the atmosphere was warm and welcoming. Gentle jazz
was coming from the wall-mounted speakers, the nurses talking to the people
waiting for their turn were all smiling and speaking in pleasant tones. The
tall, busty Latina woman at the reception sounded no less pleasant.
“Good afternoon, sir,” she said in a
very smooth voice. My eyes caught her large, deep chestnut ones. What little
make-up she had on was used to emphasize those eyes and her full lips – and she
used it to great effect. “How may I help
you?”
“Hi,” I stuttered a bit. “I’m here
to pick up my father. His name is Flint Eldridge.”
“Just a moment,” she said as she
turned to her holo-screen. “Yes, it seems Mr. Eldridge is waiting for you. You
must be Noah, then. Can I see some ID?”
“Sure.” I pulled out my phone and
placed it on a panel she held out. A flash later, I was admitted into the
waiting room.
He sat there in the middle of the
room, the sun illuminating his bald, spotty, brown scalp surrounded by a wiry
halo of white hair. When he heard me come in, he turned around his wheelchair
and scowled at me.
“You sure took your sweet time,” he
grumbled. Several of the folks in the room glanced at him.
“Yeah, it’s good to see you too,
dad.” He extended a hand to me. I went up to him, shook it, and hugged him.
“How’re you feeling?”
He scoffed. “We can talk in the car,
eh? I don’t really feel comfortable around these people.” He made no effort to
lower his voice. The people watching him started to turn their gaze to me. All
that was left for me was to nod in an effort to silently apologize for his
behavior. Why would they care so much,
though? Is this really something I
should be apologizing for?
He went ahead of me and waited for
me to open the car for him, which I promptly did. “You need help?”
“I still know my way around a car,
thank you,” he said as he pushed the panel next to the window. The back seat
folded and moved away to the back, leaving behind only a space that would allow
the wheelchair to attach to the floor.
“Just wanted to make sure you got
everything you need,” I sighed and got behind the steering panel. With two
pushes, I set the course for home. “So, did you have fun?”
“Oh, loads,” I could see him roll
his eyes in the rear-view mirror. “You know how perky all those old folks are.
I was half afraid you’d leave me there with them till I die. Now there’s a
thought…” His tone suddenly got much softer. “It’s good to see you, son.”
“Yeah, I know, dad,” I turned my
head and smiled at him. “So how’re you holding up?”
“They printed me a new heart,” he
said with a shrug. “I’m actually surprised at how well this thing works.”
“Yeah, well,” I turned to him again.
“You know it’s all still pretty new stuff, so don’t you dare try to push your
limits now, you hear?”
“Well, that’s why I’m moving in with
you now, isn’t it? You’ll be babysitting me 24/7.”
“Now that I have the time, I’ll
gladly do just that,” I said with my eyes fixed on the road. It’s the best I can do now.
“Any word from Bianca?” His gaze was
fixed on something outside the window. The question seemed half-hearted, as if
he asked it more out of obligation than genuine curiosity. That, however, was
hardly a surprise.
“No, and I want it to stay that way.
No reason to dig up the past.”
“Mhm.” He would kill me if he knew I
noticed it, but I could see it. Somewhere deep in those chocolate eyes lay
buried a deep sadness, concern, that he harbored for all this time, but
wouldn’t let anyone know. I knew. If only because that sadness was so much more
deeply rooted within my own soul. “So,” dad tried to change the subject, though
his bored monotone made it seem like he had little interest in it. “They
announced it today, huh?”
“The disarmament, you mean? Yeah,
they did. That’s no news to us, though, is it.”
“Kind of a pity, don’t you think?”
he turned his eyes to me. I could feel his gaze pierce me through the mirror.
“You never even got the chance to prove yourself, did you.”
“Look, dad. Just because I became a
soldier too late to take part in any serious conflict doesn’t mean I didn’t do
anything important during my service. I’m more than happy to know that whatever
small part I played in the grand scheme of things, we now finally have peace.”
I could feel my jaw clench. Calm down,
Noah. He doesn’t mean it that way. I took a deep breath. “Well, at least I
get enough money to live by for the rest of my life now, even if my service was
short.” I smiled. I was trying to laugh it all off, but dad seemed concerned.
“You know what, Noah,” he began in
almost a whisper. “Part of me is happy that you never had to witness the things
I did. You never had to murder innocent children in the name of your country.
You never saw your friends turn into monsters or die the most senseless deaths
imaginable. That part of me is overjoyed. I am so happy that what I did – and
what you did – has helped the world reach the state it is in now. A state when
we are actually at peace.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “But
there’s another part of me. This one says that it’s all a ruse. We’ve taken
over the whole world under the pretence of world peace. We claim war is over.
But when is it really over? Noah,” he said as he opened his eyes and turned to
me. “I don’t think there is such a thing as eternal, world-wide peace. I know
not everyone is happy about the state of the world now, and it’s only a matter
of time before uprisings start. And then, with no weapons, and no army, who
will defend the defenseless?”
The rest of the ride we remained
silent. I didn’t really know what to say. You’re
wrong, I thought, so many times. We
need peace and we should fight for it, and now that it’s finally here, we
should embrace it. But then I remembered so many things. And in that
instant, as we stopped the car in front of the house, I found it in me to say:
“You’re wrong.”
“Hmm?”
“I wasn’t spared all of those
things,” I said. My voice shook as I spoke of things that I would spend night
after sleepless night wishing that I
could forget. “I saw people turn to monsters. Ten years ago, in that project.
Remember?”
“Don’t talk about that, Noah,” dad
said as he opened the door of the car. “Talking about them won’t make falling
asleep any easier.”
“No, wait, it’s just,” I clenched my
fist. “I think you’re right on one account. I think this disarmament may be
premature too. But maybe, just maybe, they did that as more of an incentive, so
that we would actually get that peace now?”
“Why would we need a fake peace
now?”
“I-“ I started, but found myself at
a loss for words. The memories from ten years ago came floating back. The
agonizing screams, the patients tied to the beds. And all I could do was watch and make sure they wouldn’t run away. And
I did just that. But none of that ever made public knowledge. And they
didn’t let me tell anyone about it. “Maybe, they just need to make peace official now?”
“But why? It’s the damned federal government we’re talking about. They are the ones who decide what needs
to be done.”
“Well, what if someone’s watching
us-“
“Don’t you be going all conspiracy theorist on me now. Looks
like you need the rest now more than I do.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I said
as I stepped out of the car and locked the door. I looked at the evening sky
and did my best to remember those words that kept haunting me in my dreams but
that I could never really recall when awake.
“Crap,” dad hissed. I turned my head
towards him. He was in front of the door, fidgeting with the control panel.
“Your panel’s busted. You’re gonna have to contact a handyman.”
Contact.
That word hit me like a brick. That was definitely
one of the words in my dreams. One piece of that sentence that got repeated
over and over. The sentence that I kept hearing in that base, echoing through
the hallways and the rooms with the patients. The contact…
What does that even mean?