Gary’s feet ached,
and his legs were stiff. Sweating, in full combat gear, he watched the line of
men and women in front of him. He couldn’t turn his head, but he knew many more
lines of soldiers stood waiting and marching to his left and right.
As one, they all marched
forward at a pace so slow it was painful. A din in the distance followed each
step. Then, there was a silent pause before they all took another step forward.
At six-foot-four,
Gary towered over most of the others. The line in front of him seemed to
stretch forever, but Gary knew this protective wall of humanity wouldn’t last
forever. The stillness of his body belied his racing heart and cycling
thoughts.
An image from a
story he’d once seen on the news flashed through his mind. The story was about
a captive tiger and the image showed the beast inside a cage so small it would
have been hard for it to even turn around. The story portrayed the animal as a
man-eating monster, but Gary had felt bad for the poor, trapped beast, which
only followed its nature.
Within the cage of his own body, Gary knew
exactly how that caged tiger felt. As the lines of
soldiers moved up another pace, Gary ran through
every unlikely scenario he could imagine.
Maybe the Chip in
his head would malfunction and he’d be able to move at will. He would dash
between the lines, running until he found safety. Certainly there were holdouts
here in this vast African Desert. Surely he could find a remote village, a local commune where
people lived simply, without a Chip to guide them.
Even if that
happened, Gary knew that the ranks of men and women around him would not be
left to let him go. Another soldier would be signaled to catch him as he tried
to dart past.
They all took
another step forward.
Maybe the Gover-Nets would fail and suddenly, like a fresh breeze, they would all be free. The young men and women
surrounding him would become his new compatriots and they would create their own commune.
And then what? Even if this extremely unlikely circumstance came to be, life
would be unbearable. Sure he’d be safe, and God knows right at that moment
safety was far removed from reality, but could he really live like that? Live life alone? Gary
had never known life without the Chip and the idea terrified him almost as much as the steady march.
They took another
step forward.
How long has it been?
Almost before he
asked himself the question, the Chip responded.
Four hours and forty-two minutes.
The line in front
of him still seemed to stretch on forever. He pretended there was hope. Maybe
the war would end before he reached the front. He could go back to his life and
everything would be as it had been before. He imagined the Chip waking him in
his own bed… connecting to a multi-player game while he brushed his teeth…
putting on a pot of coffee while he listened to the news.
An immense sadness
swept over him. That life seemed perfect from this perspective. Longing brought
tears to his eyes. He’d never really known what he had.
They took another
step forward.
Now, it was too
late. He’d never get that back. The Gover-Nets wouldn’t back down. No agreement could be reached between his own Gover-Net system and that of the enemy. In the arid heat of the desert, a chill spread through Gary's body, raising goosebumps on his sun-burnt flesh. Would the Silent War continue until there was no one left to
fight? Gary screamed, “I shouldn't be here! I didn’t cause this! Damn you! Let me go!”
The woman in front of him yelled, "Shut up!" He watched the
back of her helmet and the long black hair that hung down from under it as the Chip
sent a pep talk directly to the language center in his brain.
Come on soldier. You have a duty to perform!
Your country needs you! Straighten up and make it easy on yourself.
Right, he thought. It’s a Silent War.
His feet moved him
forward another step, and this time he could identify the din in the distance.
He heard a rush of gunshots followed by the cries of men and women. Rage washed
over him again, coloring everything red.
Silent War? Silent fucking war?
He set his jaw
with determination. For the first time in his life, he tried to fight the Chip.
He concentrated on holding his feet to the ground. He willed them not to move.
When the signal came, he grunted with the effort to hold his position, but his right
foot lifted up and forward and his left came up to meet it.
For the next dozen
steps he struggled for control of his legs, but it was no use. The caged tiger
popped into his head again.
“Fuck!”
“Shut up.”
“Don’t you see
what’s happening here? They’re going to kill us all!”
“Shut the fuck up!”
Come on soldier. You have a duty to perform!
Your country needs you! Straighten up and make it easy on yourself.
They took another
step forward.
Adrenaline and rage
continued to course through him, building up like trapped steam. Unlikely was
all he had, and when that was gone he moved on to ridiculous. Gritting his
teeth, he focused the fury in his heart on the Chip in his brain. As the
natural fight or flight chemicals flooded his brain he thought, maybe I can use this. He put all his
energy into using the momentum of his steps to fall forward. The frantic,
absurd reasoning here was that if he fell they might bring him back for more
training. It could buy him some time. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe the Gover-Nets
would come to their senses and the war would end….
It didn’t work. No
matter what he did, his feet moved forward one terrible pace at a time. Tears
streamed down his face as he searched for another answer. And another. There
had to be something! Some way to break free!
“God Damn it! Let
me go!” he screamed as he struggled to will the evil thing from his head.
“Shut the fuck
up,” a man called out from behind him.
Come on soldier. You have a duty to perform!
Your country needs you! Straighten up and make it easy on yourself.
Insanity was upon
him. He didn’t care. It couldn’t be any worse than reality. Maniacal laughter
bubbled from his mouth, but even then he knew his body would move forward, step
by step, despite any psychoses he could muster.
He closed his eyes
against the blinding heat and searing reality and found himself reliving the
last free moments of his life.
*****
A friend paged him almost as soon as he woke
up, trying to entice him with a game of Battle-Builder. He responded in the
negative, and then turned on the shower while he recorded an away message.
Standing under the steamy spray, he mentally
signaled the kitchen to start the coffee and toast an onion bagel.
Dudley, his Golden Retriever, pushed into
the partly-open bathroom door. He nosed the shower door, tail wagging.
Gary sent a signal to the dog’s Chip,
telling him to go out and do his business. He signaled the front door to open
and mentally watched the dog as he ran down the back stairs to the small plot
of grass in the yard. Gary scrubbed as he told the kitchen to feed the dog.
Dudley was done. Gary signaled the dog’s Chip,
calling him back home. Briefly, Dudley thought of going for a run, but the Chip
prevented him from doing anything except return to the apartment.
Gary toweled himself off and shaved quickly,
but closely. The interview wouldn’t bring him the job of his dreams, but it was
a step in the right direction. He needed to make a good impression. Eyeing his
reflection, he wondered if he should have gotten a haircut. A shorter cut might
have made him look older.
He posed, setting his jaw in an attempt to
add years to his twenty-year-old appearance. It just made him look pretentious.
He’d worked hard to graduate early. Surely that counted for something.
He headed for the business attire he’d set
aside the night before.
Ten minutes later, he wiped his mouth to
remove any remaining cream cheese, and then filled his travel cup with hot,
sweet coffee.
*****
Gary took another
step forward and landed on a rock. His ankle twisted a little on the uneven
ground but he was helpless to move it until the next signal came. He licked his
parched lips, still dreaming of that coffee.
Despite the
gravity of the situation, a ridiculous amount of his attention was turning towards
his overfull bladder. The stink of urine, old and new, didn’t help matters.
Like many around him, the woman with the long black hair had given up and peed
right through her clothes only moments before. On his next step, he’d clomped
right into her puddle.
Blocking out the
wretchedness around him, he closed his eyes again.
*****
The throng of people waiting for the Bullet
was a little overwhelming, but if he got the job, it would be worth the chaotic
morning commute. Waiting was tedious without the Chip and its continual
connection. Gary fought the constant urge to plug in, reminded himself that
this day was too important to risk getting lost in a game or a movie.
He looked at the faces around him, checking
to see if anyone else was disconnected. Some were having animated conversations
with the air around them. A few showed signs of excitement or distress
depending on the probable outcome of whatever game they were playing. Most had
blank expressions. They all appeared to be lost in their own inner worlds.
It had only been three minutes, but his mind
kept looping back to the Chip. He wondered what messages he’d missed. He
panicked for a moment, thinking there might be a Battle-Builder tournament that
afternoon. If he wasn’t on the queue, he’d never get in.
His stomach rumbled
him back to reality. The hearty breakfast they’d all been fed that morning was
not enough to hold up through the afternoon. And damn his full bladder. He’d
piss right there if he could reach down and open his fly.
Six hours and five minutes.
The lines moved in
a rhythm he’d come to anticipate. According to his Chip, the time between each
step was twelve-point-two seconds. It seemed as familiar to him now as his own
heartbeat.
He looked over the
heads of those in front of him, glad for his height. Being stuck behind someone
taller than him would have made this even more oppressive. It seemed like he
could see a space up ahead.
Ohmygod
There it was,
visible in the distance.
Middle Ground.
He took a step
forward.
*****
When the Bullet arrived, he stepped into the
silver tube and grabbed one of the straps hanging from the ceiling. He didn’t
really need to hold on. The straps were there more for mental security than
physical need. The Bullet quickly dropped below street level, but the floor
under Gary’s feet never shifted more than a degree off horizontal. Even when
they reached two-hundred miles an hour, the pressurized inner compartment was
stable enough to easily remain standing without swaying.
Suddenly, several people gasped and a man
right behind Gary whispered, “Oh my God.” There was something chilling in the
quiet utterance of that phrase. Gary looked around, confused. A buzz arose as
conversations sprung up all around him. The Bullet continued to speed along
towards the city.
He tuned in to his Chip. An over-cast was in
progress. He hadn’t heard an over-cast since the day the president was shot six
years earlier.
The emotionless computer voice drone,
“…negotiations ended in a stalemate. Our enemies will not agree to the terms of
our treaty. To protect our lives and way of living, the Silent War, as proposed
by the world security confederacy, will commence immediately. The President
assures us that our lives will not be affected. There will be no innocent
victims. Resume your day. This message will repeat in its entirety.”
Because he’d tuned in late, the shock hit
Gary a few seconds after everyone else. By the time he uttered his own, “Oh my
God,” most of the faces around him had already tuned into something else. A few
people were having conversations with loved ones, discussing the Silent War,
but as the president said, there would be no innocent victims. There didn’t
seem to be any real danger.
*****
His bladder was
really getting to be an issue, but it was still easier to ignore than other
discomforts. Hunger was calling but thirst was screaming. The left side of his
face was blazing hot from sunburn. Now the sun was working hard on the right.
Eight hours and two minutes.
The gunfire and
screams were louder now. Gary had become used to the pattern.
Step.
Roar.
Silence.
Step.
As they all
stepped forward again, Middle Ground came fully into view. For the first time
he could see the actual ground and it appeared to be carpeted in crimson.
*****
The bullet was coming to a stop and the
prize was right in front of him. He sipped the last of his coffee, and stepped
through the sliding doors. He took two steps towards his appointment – and then
he turned around and walked away.
What the hell?
As his feet moved of their own volition,
Gary listened to the calm voice with the alarming news.
“Gary Wellright, you have been called into
active duty, effective immediately. You don’t need to do anything. Your Chip
will direct you to training. Everything will be taken care of.”
Confusion. Anger. When the voice told him he
had two minutes to put up an away message for his family, panic set in.
Two minutes.
What can I say in two minutes?
His feet moved him towards a destination
he’d been told but had already forgotten. The clock was ticking. He opened the
recorder and said, “Mom… Dad… I’ve been called to duty.”
What else could he say? That he was
terrified? That he was furious? That he was supposed to be at a job interview
in three minutes and instead his entire life was turned upside-down?
“I don’t get it. Isn’t there some law
protecting me from this?
“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but
I’ll contact you as soon as I can. I’m heading to training now. They are going
to cut my easy access in like a minute… I… I love you….”
*****
He took another
step towards the soaked, red Middle Ground. He was so thirsty he couldn’t
swallow the sandy grit in his throat. His mouth felt like it was lined with
felt. Nine slow and sickening hours, and still he marched forward, one
unavoidable step at a time. The barrage of bullets after each step was now deafening.
Shrieks sang out and died away quickly. A blister on Gary’s left little toe
chimed in, pulsing its own searing beat to the death march.
The lines moved up
another pace. He peered over the heads of those in front of him, counting. There
were thirty soldiers between him and his inevitable destiny. He wanted to turn
around and see how far the line stretched behind him. Had more soldiers joined
the ranks, or was there an end?
He imagined a
message coming through.
We have enough. You can go home now.
He mentally flogged
himself for clinging to hope. He had no tears left, but his eyes burned with grief.
His life, so many lives, maybe every single life… how far did the lines extend
behind him? Had anyone escaped?
Gary knew there
were people who’d refused the Chips. They lived in communes and it was said
they kidnapped infants and removed their Chips. He remembered the chants and
the celebration they’d had on Signing Day. All those people signing the papers,
giving up all rights to insurance, healthcare, legal support and financial
assistance the government had to offer by refusing the Chip and they celebrated
as if it was a good thing.
Of course, Gary’s
implant had been done at birth. It was hard for him to imagine life without the
Chip. As a little child, his parents had been amazed with how fast he could
learn with the Chip in place. His infant brain had grown with the Chip, forming
neural pathways that drew directly from the vast universal knowledge of the Gover-Net.
There was no need to learn counting or the alphabet. The ability to understand
any text and comprehend calculus was within the Chip. A question never went
unanswered. Problems were solved in an instant. All he needed to do was plug
in, and he could do that with a thought.
He remembered how
he’d looked forward to turning twelve – the age of consent for an upgrade. It
had been a simple procedure, popping out the old Chip and putting in a new one.
He’d gone back for replacements whenever he was eligible and each new Chip was
more marvelous than the last.
In that moment, Gary
realized with sudden ferocity how much he hated the Chip. If he could move his
arms, he’d dig the thing from his brain right then and there.
Only twenty people
remained in the line ahead of him.
Twelve-point-two seconds times twenty…
Aproximately four minutes, the Chip
responded immediately.
He took another
step forward.
He’d avoided
acknowledging the reality; now he felt drawn to face it. His turn was
coming. He watched the front, catching
glimpses of commotion in the Middle Ground between the lines of waiting soldiers.
People scrambled in the cacophony of blasts and roars of pain, and then dropped
below his line of sight. Others appeared. Dressed in red and white, they rushed
in from the sides, bent down, then backed away.
They took another
step.
Twelve-point-two seconds.
Apparently, that
was how long it took for the shots to be fired and the bodies to be pulled from
blood-soaked Middle Ground. Like puppets without strings, the seemingly endless
lines of men and women stepped forward to meet the enemy.
The enemy. He’d
heard stories, and he’d heard the Gover-Net’s line. He’d assumed the reality
was somewhere in between but now one thing was obvious. The enemy was not in
the endless lines of condemned men and women who faced him. No. He’d been
embracing the enemy his entire life.
The enemy was
inside him.
The enemy was the Chip.
No one near him had
spoken for at least an hour. Gary had become quiet himself when he’d gotten his
first glimpse of the front of the line. Lost in his thoughts, he jumped inwardly
when the woman behind him spoke. In the lull between the steps and shots, she
said, “Just let them hit you.”
Her words came to
him loud and clear but the meaning escaped him. He knew there was no way to
avoid being shot, but why would he not even try?
“Are you nuts?” He
asked.
“A kill shot is
best. Let them hit you.”
The black haired
woman shouted, “Shut up!” Her pants appeared to be dry. The desert was brutally
arid. Maybe he should have just let go hours earlier but his last shred of
humanness seemed to depend on containing his bladder.
“Believe me, I
know,” the woman behind Gary went on.
They took another
step forward. The noise from Middle Ground prevented any further conversation
for a few seconds. As soon as it was
silent again, Gary asked, “Why? Why would a kill shot be better?”
The voice behind
him said, “Believe me, I know.”
Gary’s mind raced
as he tried to understand what the woman was implying.
Three more minutes.
The lines moved
forward. Shots and screams commenced again. In the silence that followed, Gary yelled,
“How would you know?”
Shouts of “shut
up” rang out all around them, but were quickly drowned out by the explosions
and screams which were now so unbearably close.
Gary wished he
could turn around and see the face of the woman behind him. It suddenly
occurred to him that this was the person who would witness his moment of truth.
She would see him race forward, blasting his gun, and she would watch him fall.
She would be privy to a moment Gary almost certainly would not as the medics
dragged his bloodied body from Middle Ground.
No!
His mind screamed
at him to stop visualizing this certainty. Until the bullets pierced his flesh,
he had hope.
But what the fuck did she mean?
“If you know
something, tell me!” Gary screamed.
The lines moved
forward.
He studied the
back of the head of the dark-haired woman in front of him. He wondered about her
family. Did she have a lover waiting somewhere? Or maybe standing in the lines
nearby...
The woman behind
finally answered his question. “I know because this is my third time in line.”
Third?
Gary’s heart
pounded wildly as hope soared. She made
it through the line twice and survived!
They moved forward
again. This close, the bangs and shouts blurred together. The silence echoed
the dead.
“If you make it
across Middle Ground they let you live?” Gary asked.
Gary thought he
was already at the far end of emotion, but the laughter behind him brought his
anger and fear to a new level. Finally the woman got hold of herself enough to
speak. “Nobody makes it across!”
They took another
step forward. The silence that followed was less complete at this distance. The
scuffle of feet rushing forward, the dragging of the bodies across the sand…
The dark-haired
woman called out, “If no one makes it across, then how can you be here for the
third time?”
From behind, Gary
heard, “They drag your battered body away, patch you up, and send you right
back out.”
They moved forward
again.
“Some must make it
out,” Gary called out.
“Think about it,” the
faceless voice behind him continued. “They can’t send you back home and let you
plug in. You’d tell everyone what’s really happening here.”
Gary shivered
despite the heat. He fought a wave of nausea as he sought for some flaw in this
logic.
“I don’t believe
you,” a male voice from somewhere to his left called out.
“Shut up!”
A voice from
further back said, “It’s true. No one goes home.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
Abandon hope all ye who enter here.
Gary was tempted
to say the words aloud, just to hear them. If he could give up hope he might be
able to push the panic away. He began to clutch at the seconds he had left.
The line moved
forward.
Only seven people
were in front of him, now. The man at the head of the line was quite tall, but
all the people in between were shorter than Gary. In a few seconds, his view of
Middle Ground would be completely open.
The tall man charged.
Deafening shots rolled like thunder down the lines. Almost instantly, the
frontrunner dropped to the blood-soaked ground.
So fast.
The medics rushed
onto the scene. They grabbed the fallen by the armpits and dragged them
backwards, out of sight.
They all took
another step.
It took him a
moment to identify the pattering sound to his left. The tang of urine hit his
nostrils. Gary clenched the muscles in his groin, gritting his teeth to keep
control as he listened to the drops hit the ground at an ever slowing pace.
They all moved
forward again. This time, it was a woman who ran forward. She made it almost half-way
across, dodging left and right, before she fell.
In the distance,
just before they all stepped forward again, Gary saw the enemy - unwavering
lines of soldiers, a hundred yards ahead. The ambiguous forms were dressed in
brown instead of green. They stood still and waited in their own despair.
Maybe they could wipe our memories clean, Gary
fantasized, still searching for a way to believe he might be sent back to the
life he once knew.
He could hear the
sobs of those next in line. Some blubbered unabashedly. Others wept softly,
sniffling, exhaling in long wavering sighs even as the first signal came. Their
arms moved to pull their guns up and point them forward.
Gary screamed, “Fuck!”
and topped it off with, “God Damn you!”
Come on soldier. You have a duty to perform!
Your country needs you! Straighten up and make it easy on yourself.
He studied the
lines ahead, looking for a chink in the armor. He counted the soldiers in the
line facing his, finding the one he was meant to shoot. He found himself trying
to find a way across, but the enemy facing him stood shoulder to shoulder.
He closed his
eyes, wishing he could close his ears. In the ringing that pounded in his ears,
it was hard to tell when the actual noise had stopped. There was so little
time. If he was truly in his last moments of life, he wanted to spend them
thinking about something other than blood, piss, and his own death.
He thought of his
parents, again. He remembered how they looked the last time he saw them. His
body stepped forward on command, but still he kept his eyes shut and focused on
the past.
*****
“Gary, listen to me,” his father said. “The
world isn’t what you think it is.” His father put down the box he was carrying.
He raked a hand through his graying hair as he pleaded for Gary to change his
mind. “That damn thing in your head has you convinced that your mother and I
are the enemy.”
Gary walked to the window and looked at his
parents’ patchy grass. They were talking about moving to one of the communes,
about removing their Chips.
“I’ve got a job interview next week, Dad.”
His mother took his hand. “We just want
what’s best for you. Please, Gary. Have we ever hurt you?”
“No, Mom. You know that isn’t it.” His
parents had always been there for him. He loved them dearly, but he was twenty
years old. He knew how to take care of himself. They just didn’t get it. There
was no way he was going to some commune doctor and getting his Chip removed.
The idea of not having that constant connection, the aloneness of it – he
couldn’t understand how his parents could stand it.
“You can always come back if you don’t like
it,” his mother had coaxed.
“Mom….”
“You still have free will… for the moment,”
his father said, looking him in the eye. “But this thing their talking about—it’s
going to change everything. If you don’t get that damn thing out of your head
before the next upgrade, who knows what will happen?”
“Don’t believe everything you read, Dad”
Gary said, laughing.
*****
With his eyes
still closed, he tried to imagine the line in front of him as it had been when
he first stepped into it that morning.
Never-ending.
It was no use. He
knew how close he was to the ultimate truth. A moan escaped him as he opened
his eyes to face the reality. The dark-haired woman was now at the head of the
line. She was shuddering and sobbing and her boots were sinking in to the
red-soaked ground.
The feet of the
dead and dying bumped along the ground as they were pulled away. The medics
were quickly disappearing.
Gary felt his feet
move forward.
“Ahhh!” the woman
shouted as she charged. Two steps later, her gun firing off rounds at a pace too
rapid to count, she collapsed to the ground. Her own crimson life flowed with
the rest as she slapped face-first to the ground.
Here in the front
of the line, a gentle breeze stirred the iron-tainted air. Medics ran forward,
scooping up the bodies. For a moment, Gary made eye contact with the man who
came for the dark-haired woman. His once white coverall was now mostly red.
The man looked
away, quickly.
He’ll be coming for me, next.
Gary’s bladder
released sending a searing stream down his legs.
Across from him,
the tear-streaked face of a boy not more than sixteen stared back.
Gary had meant to
count the seconds. How many were left?
Five, his Chip informed him.
Four… three… two… one… Gary raised his
gun as his feet raced forward.
*****
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