Utopia Gone, Part 5
The man awoke inside a cold metal cave, his head groggy. What is this place? he wondered, unable to control the ever present fear that now defined his life. The confinement and the abnormality of the situation ran against everything he knew.
A portion of the wall moved to the side and a man walked in. He was in drab, unfamiliar clothing. Before the man could resist or flee, the newcomer stuck him with a needle, forcing a bluish liquid into his body. The man jumped back, nervous the newcomer would try to stick him again.
“That’s the last injection. You’ll be on New Terra soon.” The newcomer’s voice was flat, inflectionless. “Try to be calm.” The man was shocked he could understand this other human. He wondered if he could speak back, but decided against trying. He’d used his voice in wild singing on the planet, but outside that, he’d always been silent.
After a short time, the newcomer left and the man was able to relax slightly. He looked around, seeing a small hole in the side of the cave. He walked over to look at it and was amazed to discover the moon he had seen every day was beginning to grow closer and closer. This caused a small measure of comfort to blossom. He understood the moon, it made sense. Soon, the large amorphous shapes began to resolve into tall, tightly packed structures with small wedges speeding all around them. Those are transports, he thought losing his reassurance. How do I know that? The sense of foreboding he’d had when he saw the moon that was not a moon returned. It was never a moon, he thought, despondent, it’s a starship.
The air felt cold and foreign to the man as he was lead down the ship’s ramp. It violated him, crawled along his skin in a way that made him feel sick. He was in shock, all the sensory input from the past few hours overwhelming him. Once at the bottom of the ramp, he was taken to one of the transports.
Once the man and his escort was inside the transport, they flew quickly through the tightly packed buildings. The speed terrified the man. It seemed at any moment they would crash into another transport or the side of one of the towering buildings. He wished he was back to his planet, walking on the sandy beaches. Finally, the transport jolted to a halt in front of a towering structure. It was an ugly building, but at least it had some grass and trees around it.
After he was taken out of the transport, the man was escorted through the building. His group was stopped many times to verify their credentials. After he was through all these stops, he was placed in a small room — Confinement once again — that had two chairs and a dim light hanging from one of the dank walls. In a way it reminded him of a cave, but without the snug feeling of comfort.
The wait could have been minutes or hours. Without a view of the star it was impossible for him to gauge how much time had passed. He hadn’t grown extremely tired or hungry, so he inferred a full day had yet to pass. The man couldn’t comprehend why all this was happening to him.
Just as he was deciding to sleep on the hard, uncomfortable floor, the single door opened and another man walked in. He was tall and lean with pale limbs and a yellowed complexion. Something seemed familiar about the newcomer, and the longer he looked at him, the more hatred welled up inside the man.
“My name is Sunderson,” the newcomer said, his voice slow, as if speaking to someone stupid. “Do you understand me?” As he asked, his already buggy eyes popped out even more.
“Yes…yes I do,” was all the man could offer in return, his voice was hoarse and rough around the edges. Where do I know him from? And why do I hate him so much? He cringed slightly as Sunderson sat down in the chair across from him, his popping eyes closer than ever. The man could see that Sunderson was enjoying the moment, savoring his discomfort.
“You wouldn’t know this, but your name is Gaul, John Bosemer Gaul. You also have no idea why you are here, or how you got on that pleasure moon.” The words were said with confidence, no hint of question.
The thought of not knowing his origin caused a queasy feeling to swell in the man once known as John Bosemer Gaul. He didn’t like the sensation and he didn’t like Sunderson. How did I never think of my past? He quickly searched his memory and found it lacking for anything about his origin or how to deal with Sunderson. He didn’t know what to do, so he just blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “How did you know I was on the planet?”
Sunderson looked puzzled for a moment. This made his popped eyes look even more grotesque and Gaul flinched away from him. Sunderson seemed not to notice and began speaking again. “Your skewed view of the cosmos had me slightly confused for a moment. Congratulations, that doesn’t happen very often.” After a slight pause he continued, “You, Mr. Gaul, were on the moon, while we here on New Terra were on the planet. You seem to have your labels confused. We knew you were on the pleasure moon because we put you there.”
Gaul was shocked, not so much because of the revelation itself, but because he couldn’t remember it being done. That was scary. He could have wept in frustration and confusion, but he held himself back because some deep part of him knew Sunderson would get a kick out of it. He couldn’t give the pop eyed man the satisfaction.
“You’ve grown awfully quiet. Don’t you have any questions?” The buggy eyes bored into him for a moment and then Sunderson continued, “I’ve given you quite a shock I see. I’m sorry.” Sunderson’s voice sounded kind and gentle, but the look on his face proved otherwise.
“As a matter of fact,” Gaul replied, his voice steeled with determination and resolve, “I do have a few questions.” He then paused for a moment to take a deep breath that belied his bravado. “Tell me why I was placed on this pleasure moon.”
“In order to explain that, I’ll need to go way back,” Sunderson said, his eyes bulging with excitement. “I’ll need to brief you on certain historical points. Of course, your full memory will be restored to you quite soon which will make all this information quite superfluous, but we have nothing else to do until the techs get the mental model downloaded, so why not?.” His eyes seemed to pulse in and out with the anticipation of his coming monologue.
“New Terra’s population has been growing exponentially. The wealthy can’t keep the poor population out of their sectors, no matter how hard they try. There are just too many people on this planet. Those who can afford it want to get off world, but the closest habitable planet is too far away for their convenience and nearer worlds would be too expensive to terraform. Nex-Delta, a leading corporation, has created a solution.
“Towing asteroids to New Terra orbits was costly. The process of creating atmospheres, landscapes, and ecosystems was even more so, but Nex-Delta, believing in the profitably of the venture, never balked at the expenses.
“Once the asteroids were nearly finished, Nex-Delta began advertising these perfect locations. Many of New Terra’s wealthy flocked to lease space on one of the six newly created ‘pleasure moons’. Before anyone was able to begin building though, the U.E.N. stepped in and put a halt to the burgeoning enterprise. Citing numerous regulatory laws with dubious ties to such a venture, they mandated the moons could not be habited until they had been extensively tested and proven safe. The truth was U.E.N. officials wanted moon properties, but couldn’t afford them. So they used extortion tactics. Nex-Delta said they would rather go through the testing process. It would take more time, but would be cheaper in the long term.
“That’s where you come in my fine friend,” Sunderson said as he got up and began to pace around the small room. “You were the test. We wiped your memory — we certainly can’t have you thinking all those old, dirty thoughts while in such a beautiful place — and then we let you live there for a while. You soaked it all in. The moons stayed in a stable orbit, there were no natural disasters. You were happy and fit, living in one of the few uncrowded and unspoiled areas known to humanity. We brought you back and saw how you were functioning. We tested you for radiation damage, along with a lot of other diagnostics. Apparently, you are doing quite well, at least from what the doctors on the U.E.N. ship tell me.” He stopped pacing and resumed his seat, bug eyes staring directly into Gaul’s own. It took all of his willpower to continue to stare back.
“At any rate,” Sunderson continued, leaning so far back in his chair that Gaul thought it would tip over, “you were brought back early. Those morons up at the U.E.N. Regulatory Commission changed a law in a last ditch attempt to extort Nex-Delta. We can no longer test on convicts and all experiments involving convicts must immediately cease. Thankfully, we’ve already gathered enough info between you and the other five subjects that we should be able to force the U.E.N. to allow us to start building residences. There is nothing harmful on the pleasure moons.” Sunderson glanced at Gaul as he continued to talk, and look of astonishment on the Gaul’s face made him to stop momentarily. “Please forgive me,” he resumed, his voice not conveying any type of regret. “I keep forgetting you have no long term memories. The convict reference will be explained shortly, after your memories are returned.”
Just then, the single door opened and a short man in simple white clothes walked in. “We are ready for him,” he said, his accent strange to Gaul’s ears.
“Time to go,” Sunderson exclaimed, voice brimming with a happiness that made Gaul feel sick. Sunderson then stood from his chair and motioned Gaul to walk before him. Ultimately, he knew he had no real choice, so he went obediently, trying to stay as calm as possible. The strangely accented man proceeded them, leading the way.
Their journey wasn’t far, just a couple doors down from the room they had previously occupied. On the way, Gaul noticed a large logo on the wall for Nex-Delta. Underneath it, a smaller sign read: “Special Projects Division”.
Once they entered the new room, Gaul noticed several more white clothed men stationed at various types of equipment. “Sit, sit,” Sunderson said expansively. “All we be explained soon.”
The chair Sunderson was motioning at was quite simple, but it had some type of halo on top that Gaul found unnerving. Once again feeling he had no other option, he sat and the white clothed men attached the halo device to his head.
As soon as they finished, Gaul began to feel sick. The room swam and his vision blacked out. He could still hear what was going on around him. The men chatting and laughing, talking about their plans for that evening. His head felt as if it were growing and shrinking convulsively. Gaul had no idea what was happening, but before he could analyze it further, his vision returned in a blinding flash of light.
For a brief moment he remembered everything. He recalled how he had been taken out of the prison and told by the Nex-Delta representatives he was being transferred. He would be alone. He would be in paradise. Pushing into even older memories, he recalled how the girl had screamed, bled, and died. He remembered how they all had. But then he felt something, a nagging twitch in his brain, as if something was being plucked from him.
He blinked. Why did they take me out of my cell? He blinked again. How did I get in this chair?
