Solutions: The Dilemma of Hopelessness, James Gerard [free children's ebooks online .txt] 📗

sat back down.  “You’ll never win you know.  You have to realize,” he said, “that they began this selective personality plan to better the quality of life.  You can’t defeat what they desire.”

 

Timothy chuckled.  “Maybe not, but if I let them win that means they will have stripped me of my personality, take away who I am and that’s all I have.”  He halted his pace at a wall and slapped his palms against it hard.

 

“Don’t think of it that way,” countered Charles.  “The ones who have undergone the treatment think….”

 

“I know,” shouted Timothy.  “Yes, it’s been drilled into my mind time and time again that ninety-five percent of the citizens that subject themselves to it go on to be very happy and never question the conditioning.  Well, that’s beautiful.  But I can’t allow them to select what is and what is not acceptable when it comes to my life.”

 

“Don’t get upset with me,” Charles sternly warned.  “It’s been the trend that if anyone exhibits an irrational personality must have their memories repressed.  How can you argue that the treatment doesn’t better society?”

 

“I realize that,” countered Timothy, “but everyone should have to do it.”

 

“That’s just the way things are.”

 

“Sure it is,” shouted Timothy.  “But then why do some show an irrational personality later in life?”

 

Charles took a deep breath, held it, and then slowly it came whistling out. “Look, it’s just…just more economically feasible to wait until behavior gets way out of control before intervention is required.”

 

“Right,” responded Timothy as he rolled his eyes.  “Following that reasoning, wouldn’t it make sense to treat everyone once adulthood is reached?  I mean, think of the savings in the end.”

 

“Unless it interferes with their ability to support the economy, why should it be required for all?”

 

“But you must understand I can’t forget about my memories.  I don’t ever want to forget them.”

 

“But don’t you want to be happy?”

 

“Of course I do.  You just don’t understand.  All I know—no, feel, is a smoldering in my mind not to let them do it.”

 

“Think about it,” said Charles.  “How can happiness be wrong?”

 

“I don’t know.  But I feel, sense…ah forget it.  I just can’t let them take away my memories.”

 

“Then why are you here?

 

“Well, it’s either this of let them kill my mind in a mental center,” chuckled Timothy.  “That’s why I’ve put up with this for so long.  But I’ll never forget.  I’d punish every last one of you for what you have done to me.  I want to do the absolute sickest things to you all.”

 

“Timothy.”

 

“I want all of you dead.”

 

“Timothy,” shouted Charles.

 

“I’m not good enough because I don’t want to forget.”

 

“Timothy!”

 

“Dare give anyone a choice.  From day one they just refused, refused to understand that I preferred to stay silent, uninvolved.  Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, that’s impossible, that it caused more problems than if I just happily went along.  But who am I?  Do I look like the center of the whole entire universe?  Of course I’m not.  No, I must act like some robot, like I’m the absolute difference in everyone’s life….”

 

Charles lunged at Timothy, slapped him in the face.  “Snap out of it.”

 

Timothy reacted with a smile to the sting of the slap.  He yanked Charles’ clenching grip from off his arm.  “Relax,” he calmly said, “what’s the problem?”

 

“There’s no problem,” said Charles.  “I just want you to have a calm frame of mind when I tell you about my proposal is all.”

 

“Just like the rest.  You overreact to a harmless release of pent up emotions.”

 

Charles slowly repeated, “I just want you in the right frame of mind to hear my proposal.”

 

Timothy looked at him in an attempt to gauge the sincerity of the words, but again, the light was too faint for such a deep discernment.  “You really aren’t one of them, are you?”

 

“No.”  Charles stepped away.  He sat back down.  “Would you like to hear my proposal now?”

 

“I don’t see how I can be of any use to you,” responded Timothy calmly.

 

“Are you kidding,” said Charles.  “If you fooled Dr. Johnson for so long, you’re plenty valuable.  Sit down, please.  Let me explain.”

 

Timothy eased himself into the seat of the chair.  “What can I do for you?”

 

“A proposal, just for you.”

 

“Just for me?  How thoughtful.”

 

“You don’t have to act now,” said Charles.

 

Timothy smiled.  “I’m not acting.”

 

“Sure you’re not.  Anyway, to begin, I feel that I should let you know that I’m familiar with your background.  I believe I know what you’re capable of.”

 

Timothy grinned.  He was not sure what capable meant, but whatever it did, he thought, it certainly pertained to the stay at the center.  He stared curiously at Charles.  “And you still want me?”

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“You keep asking that,” noted Timothy.

 

“I mean why do you even bother with the charades?”

 

“I told you, I’m not going to give in.  Besides, it’s turned out to be a break from the struggle.  You know my continuing search for the magic pill.”

 

“Stop that,” said Charles.  “You know as well as I do they don’t work on you.”

 

“Who are you?”

 

“I work here.”

 

“You mean here?”

 

Charles smiled.  “If you mean here in the basement with Dr. Johnson, no.”

 

“Look, whatever it is you want, I’m not interested.”

 

“Face it, you won’t allow yourself to escape.”

 

“I’ve certainly tried.”

 

“Face it Timothy, you really haven’t.”

 

Timothy heard the smugness in Charles’ tone.  God how I hate that, he thought.  Especially when it’s dribbled by professionals.  He honestly believed that they were personally offended when he argued otherwise.  Like he dared to challenge their authority when it came to how one should feel, remember.  “Okay Charles, escape from what?”

 

“Your role in this world.”

 

Timothy peered over Charles’ smile as it crept into his mind.  All of a sudden he began to chuckle.  “My God, you’re a pessimist.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“God or a pessimist?”

 

“Funny Timothy.”

 

“Who are you?”

 

“Someone you can trust.”

 

“Why should I trust you?”

 

“You haven’t heard my proposal yet.”

 

“It must be something important or you wouldn’t be here.”

 

“I have no reason to lie.”

 

“About what?”

 

“Whatever it is you think I’m going to tell you.”

 

“How can you be sure I’m thinking you’re not going to lie?”

 

“Because you didn’t walk out the door.  You chose to stay here.”

 

“You mean at the center?”

 

“No.  In this room.”

 

Timothy did not understand the purpose of the conversation, but he enjoyed it.  It was a strange departure from the path of the acceptable spiel.  And somewhere amidst its confusion, he felt an understanding had taken place.  Nevertheless, he decided to hit him with a question that would hopefully decide on whether the understanding was shared or not.  “You know how I got here?”

 

“From what I know,” said Charles, “Dr. Johnson used his connections in the personality field to locate someone just like you.”

 

“No, I mean how I physically arrived here?”

 

“No.  I wasn’t around at that time.”

 

“A man came to my apartment one night—the same man who brought me to this place, this office, and told me it was a personality center.”  Timothy stood.  Feet began to beat a pace on the floor.

 

“You didn’t ask why?” inquired Charles as he dodged Timothy’s frantic steps.

 

“No…I mean I thought he was sent by the doctor I was seeing at the time, so I felt I had no choice but to go along.”  His heels tapped the floor faster and faster.  “He escorted me on private jet landing God knows where.  Then he ushered me into the back of a cargo van and drove for what seemed like days, then ushered into this place, to them.”

 

“Them?”

 

“The guys in the uniforms.”  He turned away from Charles.  “The frisking was bad enough, but there was no way I was going to allow them to shove a finger up there.”

 

“Did they try?”

 

Timothy whipped his attention around.  “They threatened me with the dog, but no way was I ever going to let that happen again.”

 

“They wouldn’t have let you down here without a complete search.”

 

“That’s what they said.  But when I threatened to leave the place, they called Dr. Johnson.  I guess he argued with them and was able to talk them out of it.”

 

“They were just trying to do their jobs you know.”

 

“Right!  Why?”

 

“In your case, searching for any illegal substances.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too, but the dog and the fluoroscope weren’t enough to figure that out?  And besides, I’ve never used that kind of underground stuff as a solution to my so-called problems.”

 

“You have to realize the importance of this place,” said Charles.

 

“I tell you what, if they’re that uptight about things, have to make sure they’re in control, have people like Dr. Johnson work here, then I have to question your sincerity.  How can I be certain that you’re not up to no good?”

 

“Because I’ll now tell you the truth.”

 

“Start out by telling me where I am.”

 

“About forty miles outside of Denver.”

 

Timothy plopped himself onto the chair, raised his arms to the air, “Then why the big show?”

 

“Misdirection.  They’re so paranoid about people finding out about this place and the plans that they make, that they make it impossible for anyone to figure out its location.”

 

Timothy leaned towards him with a scowled look, but a smile suddenly broke free from the intense stare.  “What plan?”

 

“Later.  You did talk with Dr. Johnson before he confined you to the basement room?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What did he tell you?”

 

“At the time, just that he’d be treating me.  Told me about the procedure of the questionnaires, the pills…memory erasers.  God I shouldn’t have trusted him.”

 

“Timothy, you’ve been here for a long time.  Didn’t you ever suspect anything?”

 

“Of course, but I had to do what he wanted if I was going to avoid the mental center.”

 

“Then how did you figure this place offered any therapeutic value?”

 

“I had to avoid the risk of being found out, so I cooperated to the best of my ability and never asked to leave.  But forget about that, I’m more curious to find out about the plan and this place.”

 

“The workers here call it Diablo’s Cavern.”

 

Timothy laughed hysterically.  “Hell.  I knew I died and went to Hell.  I knew it.”

 

“No, close, but definitely not Hell.”

 

“Then what was Dr. Johnson really up to?”

 

“That’s not important.”

 

“Oh yes it is.”

 

“He wanted to use you for something.”

 

“What?”

 

“Murder.  He was trying to condition you as a trained assassin to take out anyone opposed to any of the plans.  That’s the reason why he always wrote back that you weren’t answering the questions right.”

 

“So, he could have cared less when I responded that I was happy?”

 

“He wanted you to write that you were angry, so angry that you would want to kill.  Just not fantasize about it; I mean kill.  But to do that he had to break your will.”

 

Timothy jumped to his feet, turned his back to Charles, and clenched his fists.

 

Charles stepped to Timothy, “You haven’t?”

 

“No.”

 

“Good.”  Charles smiled, gestured to the chair.

 

“Then why are you here?”

 

“A compromise.”

 

Charles gestured to the chair once again.

 

Timothy did not want to sit down, to feel relaxed.  Agitation pumped adrenalin to an energized body.  “Fine, a compromise.  Tell me what you want,” he said, leered at Charles.  “But tell me the truth.  Don’t hide one thing.”

 

Charles dangled the envelope in front of Timothy, “Here, I have nothing to hide.”

 

Timothy snatched it from his hand.  Of course he didn’t have anything to hide, he thought.  “What’s in it?”

 

“A highly sensitive NASA document delivered by courier this morning.”

 

“You want me to read it?”

 

“If you want the truth.”

 

“Do you know what the report is about?”

 

“I know what it pertains to, yes.”

 

His trust in Charles teetered, especially after what he had just been told.  However, Timothy figured that if he had put up with him so far, why not hear him out.

 

Timothy attacked the envelope then tore out the report.  He squinted at the contents and turned it towards the scant light of the lamp.  He puzzlingly said, “I don’t understand.  What’s the big deal?  What’s the Observer?”  He stared at the report as he came to rest on the splintered seat.

 

“Read on,” said Charles and he tapped a finger to a block of lines.

 

“Confirmed.  It has been concluded that the satellite in question is the same