Tales of Disturbance

The Facility

The woman was there waiting in the rain. I noticed her big teeth as she limped toward me. 'Agatha', she said by way of introduction. 'Walk'. Her face came down into a sort of point like a rabbit's - a bit grey in itself - and she was dressed in grey like a nun, a rope around her large waist, and she had this white cloth thing on her head like a tea towel. 'Walk' she said again.  And she poked me with a rolled up newspaper as though I were a disobedient street dog. It wasn't a great beginning and it hasn't been a great first chapter either. If you want to know, I've mostly hated it. All of it. As far as I'm aware, nobody has ever actually come out and said that in public. But maybe someone needs to .There's been that feeling of unease since I moved here to the Facility. I know it's a privilege to be here and you are supposed to slip The Facility right on like a glove. That's what the adverts say, isn't it? You don't even feel any different for it, it's just another way. And the benefits far outweigh the negatives. Maybe it's me; maybe it's the the colour of the glove you have to 'slip on'?  (Yellow. Yellow, everything is yellow here. ) But I hate it here. 

First there are the Gelons. They are invisible, but they lurk in every room and you know they are there. I know they won't like to hear that I've complained (the gelons know everthing) but people need to know what it's like. The truth about what it's like. So many are joining with this disease spreading and everything.  I don't want to get into any sort of trouble. Really I don't. But maybe there are some things like lying that are bigger than me getting into trouble.

The disease came from the facility. It was engineered in the lab there. It is very backward - candlelight and old equipment - but very effective. The chips and the brains and everything see to that. The gelons see to that.

Several things have comforted me though it, it's true – I could tell you about those. What have I been doing since I arrived?  The days trickle by. It's not like there's a structured program like at school but it is an education. It's not like school. It's just life but life in a basic, confined way - no, not prison. It's not 'bad' either. I know what they are saying in the press. That it's incarceration. That it's some sort of crime to strip people of their civil liberties and send them to a place where they have to stay while some machine messes with their thoughts.

But it's not really like that at all.

I mean tonight, I mopped the kitchen floor. There's an example for you of total normality. I had a new thought while I did this: that everything, really, is creative. Everything; even the mundane things like mopping the kitchen floor can be creative, because we are creating moments every second, we are never not creating moments. Substance to exist within the boundaries of time. Time has boundaries and stars and buildings and time has boundaries and thoughts have boundaries too. People are not aware of the boundaries of thoughts. Of the little cages they are making in their heads. Everything, really, is creative. Everything; even the mundane things like mopping the kitchen floor can be creative, because we are inventing and filling time and creating events, even small ones, every second. We are never not creating. We form substance that exists within the boundaries of time. Time has boundaries and stars and buildings and time has boundaries and thoughts have boundaries too. People are not aware of the boundaries of thoughts. Of the tiny little cages they are making in their heads.

So I had that thought and then there was this bleep and the green thing on my bracelet flashed and then I saw the alarm on the wall flash as well. Just for a second. But it must not have worked because there, I just told you the thought, didn't I. I remember it. They haven't sucked the thought out of my head after all, as the cynics are saying. 

When I told Lacey Anne I'd signed up, she just carried on knitting, but something changed in her eyes.  She was knitting a scarf for Mildred, by the fire. Or maybe it was a blanket. She didn't know herself. Only one bar was on on the fire - she was a woman who lived in mortal fear of the electricity bill - and her previous creation, a brown croqueted blanket, was draped over her. She shifted her weight on the sofa, going 'round the big tree' with her wool 'What about the animals?' she said carefully. I knew she would do this first, to avoid things, and declared 'because I'm certainly not looking after them!' 'I'll set them free' She gave a hard laugh.'You live in some sort of novel, dear, while the rest of us live in Scorn Ravello. They will die.' 'Burt will take the turtle' I burst out desperately and close to tears. I loved that turtle and the thought of the animals dying upset me; especially Kevin.'But you'll take Kevin, won't you' 'There's no money for Kevin.''They don't need much. They don't have a great life anyway--'

I had not expected this, and I trailed away. It was too hard to fight back the tears. The thought about the animals was disturbing, but the promise of the Facility was so inviting. It would help Lacey-Anne too when I sent back the money for the electricity bill.  It was going to change my life having this kind of money. And Lacey-Ann's life too, though she couldn't see that now. Animals were about us. Not them. Animals didn't form attachments and bonds as we did. It was all sentimental swash.

'Penny for your thoughts? Sign up to the Facility. One year contract. Salaries starting at £145,000.'

Lacey Ann, pulled her rug over her shoulders. 'I don't think you've thought this through' her eyes that had seen much, stared sadly into the one bar. 

'I don't think you have the faintest idea about what you are getting into. Who these people are. What this could do to you. You're volunteering, volunteering to do this? Don't you know that within a year, two maybe this will be enforced on most people? And you are willingly volunteering yourself? Selling your soul for a couple of thousand a month? Wasting your life with all its promise.'

'They take our thoughts anyway – don't you know that Lacey-Ann? They do it anyway. Everyday. And we have no money. Barely enough food to get by.'

'We are free' she said simply. 'They can no longer track our devices. We have drawn no attention. But if you do this, if you go there, then –'

'Nothing will happen' She looked away. Kevin sidled along the edge of the couch and jumped on to her lap.

Anyway I don't think about her much now, Lacy-Anne. It's not 'bad' either, like she thought. I know what they are saying in the press. That it's incarceration. That it's some sort of crime to strip people of their civil liberties and send them to a place where they have to stay while some machine messes with their thoughts.

But it's not really like that at all.