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by Ian Mullins Today the lights were shining green, Daniel’s favourite
colour, so he stretched his legs across the street trying to walk the way the
green man on the street-sign walked, with his legs long and straight. But
halfway across he saw a man in a car look at him as though he was disabled and
ought to be admired, so he slipped back into his regular walk and saw the
driver’s face turn from pity to shame. Keep walking, keep looking, put a
plain smile on your face, but not too much; the people behind the cameras were
trained to spot anyone smiling strangely, especially that strange, rich smile
that meant look at me I’ve got away with something, I’ve crossed on red, I’ve
waited on green, I’ve barged a citizen out of my way and didn’t say sorry, I
failed to feel glad that I live in a free country. I can’t hold on much longer, he
thought. Try a left, stop fucking smiling! And stop fucking swearing! They say
when you swear in your head there’s a certain look on your face the monitors
can’t fail to monitor. There’s another detector, glowing like a ruby in the
sidewalk. Mustn’t step on it, but mustn’t be seen not to step on it…. “Citizen!” The voice was a barrier he couldn’t
cross. The Social Crimes Officer only held up a hand, but that hand had was a
wall made of rock and steel, and behind it there was law, there was
re-education, there was the long boat out to sea no-one ever sailed back from.
He’d never see his loved ones again. Why did that thought fill him with
such joy? “Yes, Officer?” “You seen to be in a hurry.” The man’s
face was long and lined. Daniel wondered why they were all so pale, when they
spent so many hours on the street. The Officer frowned to exhibit a
quizzical, but concerned, state of mind. It was frown number 14, his favourite.
“Your garments suggest work. Are you working today, citizen?” “On my way home Sir. Thought I’d walk
the last stretch.” Without thinking, he stretched out his hand and the officer
passed his palm over it. The devices implanted in their hands bleeped and a
social transaction was added to Daniel’s file. “No, no problem.” Except the pain in
my gut, the throbbing in my head. Next month they would show up on his health
check, but today he was free. Somehow that made him feel unaccountably happy. “You smile very happily, citizen. Why
is that?” “Well; I feel good. I worked hard
today; it was very satisfying. But not, of course, without all the usual minor
annoyances we humans are heir to.” “The government are working on that,”
replied the officer brightly, seeming to relax a little. “Soon a man will work
all day long without one burst of anger, not one missed smile…I see you’re
taking paradoxin.” “It was req-recommended that I do so.
I think too much, apparently. I get confused; a little angry.” Daniel wondered
why he was telling him this, then decided it was a strategy he had
unconsciously settled on. The ultra-normals sometimes found old-stylers a
little sad and romantic. “You’re thinking now,” said the
officer. “I can see it in your eyes. What are you thinking?” “I’m thinking how wonderful it would
be not to feel so upset every time I get passed over for promotion.” “Why do you get passed over for
promotion?” “Too human, I guess. You can see my
evaluation on your screen. I try hard, officer; I want you to know that.” “Why do you want me to know that?”
Blank face seven. I know things about you even you have forgotten. Can you
guess what they are? “Why? I want approval; everyone does.” “I don’t. I am satisfied that my
superiors are satisfied with me. Ego is a dangerous thing, Daniel. Just look at
you, getting off the bus to walk the last few miles home. Did you do it to
improve your health, or to re-assure your ego that you are taking steps to
improve your health?” “Can’t it be both?” He could feel Mr.
Angry in his bones. -Look out for Mr. Angry!- the TV warned him every night.
Sometimes Daniel thought that if he ever met Mr. Angry he would shake him by
the hand. “Too human?” “You said it, citizen. It’s sad the
way we are; left to our own devices we’d live like dogs in the street. We’d
never smile, we’d only grimace. And look at you…” He looked at the screen on
his palm. “You’re struggling, citizen. You swore at your boss last week. You
failed to return a smile. You looked sharply at a monitor on Eastbank Street
when it picked you out in a crowd.” “I was doing nothing wrong,” Daniel
protested. “I was only thinking it.” “Don’t you know that that’s the worst
crime of all?” Judge 17; softening to Father number 1. “He tapped the citizen
on the head. “It all starts in here, son. If there’s dirt in your head there’ll
soon be dirt on the street. You picked your nose in public last week.” “I was in the park, I didn’t see
anyone around.” “There’s always someone around.
Someone that loves you. Last year you urinated in a doorway. Luckily a scent
detector on a street corner picked up your scent and cross-matched it with your
sample.” “Those detectors are hard to spot
aren’t they?” He tried to laugh, but cops never laughed. Daniel felt faces 16,
24, 31 and 172 wash over his cheeks. He couldn’t hold onto a face for long
enough to decide who he was meant to be at any given time. His head was
shouting ‘me, me, me!’ like a little child longing to be picked for a game.
Daniel was never picked until last. That used to make him feel ashamed; until
he learned how to use it to make himself proud. That was when schools still had
games. These days kids played work-games. They frightened him by not screaming
on the street at three am, by not getting drunk, or eating bad food. The
government called them rebels. Sometimes Daniel went onto the empty street at
3am and pissed on the street corner, just to be human in the old way; to
remember things he couldn’t remember, forget things he never wanted to forget. “Never forget we love you,” said the
policeman suddenly. “I won’t.” Curiously, Daniel found
that he believed him, though he knew in his heart that he was lying. There was
something so noble, so human, about wanting to believe in people so much that
you lied and lied until the truth was just another lie and a lie was something
you desperately believed to be true. It’s the wanting that makes us human, he
thought. That why all of this will never work. He smiled at the policeman; a
simple, genuine smile, a baby’s first smile. Yes, I am really glad to be here;
and even if I lived the life you wanted me to live I would still smile up at
you. “You should smile while you can,” he told the cop. “Nothing better than a smile,” agreed
the officer. Smile number 2; mostly genuine. “On your way, citizen.” Daniel walked slowly until he was out
of sight, then took a sharp left and
picked up speed, casually greeting strangers as they passed him on the street.
His home was a good ten minutes away, and while he was convinced he could hold
out until then, he had decided he wasn’t going to. Down a deserted side street
he spotted what he was looking for. A corner store had been demolished and the
rubble had never been cleared; the weeds had sprung up and taken it back, the
way a river will take a dead body and shape it to its own ends. Daniel marched
straight into the green and unbuckled his pants. And there it was, the fart to
end all farts, pouring out of him like water from a drowned man’s lungs, a
wonderful rush of gas leaping like a little boy leaps when he plays a game he’s
not supposed to play, for the simple joy of knowing he’s not supposed to play
it. And down in the rubble a little glow
started to shine. Daniel kicked over a rock and yes, there was a detector,
sucking in his fumes; and even as he re-buckled his pants a coded analysis of
his gas was being passed through a satellite hanging over the city like a kite
blocking out the sun. Soon it would be on its way to earth, and soon the cars
would be rolling. Daniel tried to laugh as he pushed
his back through the weeds and out onto the street, but somehow he couldn’t
make it. They’ve trained me too well, he thought sadly; they’ve split me in
two. They have a me, and I have a me. So which one is really me? He waited on the side of the road,
watching while all seven of the cameras on the street turned their head towards
him like wading birds tenderly addressing their prey. Soon the Officer came. “I’m
more human than you will ever be,” Daniel told him. “That is your tragedy,” the Officer
replied, tightening the cuffs. Frown number one; we’re going to put you in a
box and post you out to sea. |
