The Treatment- Chapter 5

The punitive drug lasted only five minutes, but Havaj felt like he was waking up from a century-long slumber. He must have fallen unconscious as soon as it had worn off. As he stretched his limbs, he felt a residual ache that would make getting up very unpleasant. Opening one eye slightly, he scanned his surroundings. They looked unfamiliar; he was probably still at the Station. When he managed to get both eyes open, he found himself to be in a small infirmary, dimly lit and containing ten beds. The bed next to his was occupied by a middle-aged man, asleep in a crumpled position with a painful expression on his face. On the bed across from his, Symon was sitting with his head in his hands. Taking a deep breath, Havaj forced himself into an upright position.

"Hey... Symon," he said. Symon did not respond. "Symon, I'm sorry I yelled at you." For a few seconds, Symon did not move. Then, he lowered his hands and met Havaj's eyes with his own gaze. He looked exhausted, weakened.

"No, dude. I'm the one who should be sorry," he said softly.

"What?"

"I didn't take you seriously. I didn't understand why you hate Eumenfield so much." He rubbed his forehead, exhaling through his teeth. "Now I understand."

Havaj smiled weakly. "So, you're on my side now." He said.

Symon shook his head slowly. "No. I just don't... I mean, they..." He stood upright, raising his voice to a normal volume. "There's no point in trying to be a rebel, Havaj. We're trapped. Government controls the healthcare system; the healthcare system controls us. I mean, how can we even fight back? Paint over some more billboards? Like hell if that's gonna make a difference." He sat back down. "If I had known how much that punishment would hurt, I'd never have pulled all those stupid stunts just to act cool. Maybe Mikane is right. We just stay outta trouble and try to live a normal life, and things will get better."

Havaj closed his eyes tightly. He wanted to shout at the top of his lungs; he wanted to rage at the world. Instead, he just continued to speak in a quiet voice. "Yeah, we could just give in and follow their rules, and things might seem okay. But I don't want to live that way. We should be able to choose what goes into our body. I just wish there was something we could do to make a change."

Symon shrugged. "Hey, we'll be old enough to vote by the next election."

"I hope you're kidding. I've never heard of a candidate who wants to reform the healthcare system. They're all pretty much the same."

"Well, I'm out of ideas then. It's the straight and narrow for me from now on. But hey, if you come up with some brilliant plan to bring down the government, count me in I guess."

Symon was one of the most unruly and mischievous kids Havaj had ever met. This sudden change in Symon's paradigm was downright shocking. Havaj now understood why his older brother was so intent on staying out of trouble; he had likely had the same experience as them.
 The middle-aged man in the adjacent bed began to stir and make noises. "Come on," Havaj said, shuffling over to the door. "Let's get out of this terrible place." Symon did not hesitate to follow.

The two meandered their way through the station, following the signs back to the lobby. Havaj glanced at a clock on the wall; it was 7:43 am. Upon finding the lobby, Havaj was not surprised to see Mikane waiting there, reading a newspaper. Symon always used to sneak up behind Mikane when he was reading something and surprise him. This time, he didn't. As they approached him, he greeted them with his usual grin. "So, how was your beauty sleep?" He asked.

"Ugly," Havaj replied.

"Hey, you two. No need to look so glum. It's over now, and you can move on with your lives. Hopefully you've learned something from the experience?" Havaj simply nodded. He wanted to say 'Yes, I learned that I hate Eumenfield more than ever now' but he didn' t think that would sit very well with Mikane.

"Any good stories in there?" Symon asked, poking Mikane's paper.

"Here's one," Mikane said. "'Obsidian University researchers find cure for yet another cancer'. Amazing what goes on in that place."

Havaj shook his head as he started towards the exit. "See you later guys," he said. "I'm going for a walk."

The Treatment- Chapter 4

The Station was a simple two story building, but in noticeably better upkeep than the surrounding slum architecture. The walls were a gleaming white, a stark contrast with the dirty gray street below; it was as if a perfect building had fallen from the heavens and landed by chance in the Maze District. Next to the Station's entrance stood a sign that read "Eumenfield Medical Community Station" in bold lettering.

As Havaj approached the door, he hesitated, turning back to his three companions. He glanced back at the Station, pursing his lips in thought. He was about to say something, when suddenly he was afflicted with a dull, throbbing headache. He shivered and opened the door.

Inside, the station was already starting to get busy. It was teeming with Mikane's kin, that strange species that sets its alarm to 6:00 on a Sunday. The small flock of receptionists behind the front desk was tapping away at the keyboards, pausing on occasion to affect a smile at an incoming patient. Havaj's path was blocked by a short, worried-looking man struggling to keep pace with the long strides of a doctor. After they passed, Havaj's group made a beeline past the front desk to a hallway at the right. Each door lining the hallway was labeled with a group of letters; Havaj and Mikane went to the one labeled "G, H, I". Mikane waved to Jade and Symon as they went to two other rooms. "See you in a few," he said.

The lone attendant inside the room sat up straight as the brothers entered. "Names please," He said abruptly.

"Hesconnu, Mikane."

"Hesconnu, Havaj."

The attendant leaned forward, inspecting the names inked onto the ports above their collarbones. He gave a confirming nod. Opening a formidable black drawer, the attendant searched and pulled out two long white capsules. He handed one to each of the young men, who inspected the labels carefully. With one swift motion, Mikane pulled the cap off his capsule to reveal a short needle which he stuck into his port. Havaj did the same, but more slowly. For a few moments, they sat in silence, waiting. Soon, the effects of the drug cocktail began to manifest. Havaj felt it coursing though him like a river of pure life essence. This was his enemy, his reason for defacing the billboard, but he still could not resist the feeling of wholeness and vitality. His headache vanished.

They left the room, meeting back up with Jade and Symon. The mood-improving effects of the drugs were evident in both of them. "So, where are you guys headed now?" Jade asked.

"Back home, to finish sleeping," Havaj said.

"Oh come on, Havaj," Symon said, elbowing him. "Did you stick the needle in the wrong spot or something? I don't feel tired at all."

"You could barely stay awake on the way here, Symon. You'll feel like a zombie when the stuff wears off."

"That won't convince him," Jade said. "You know how much Symon loves zombies." Symon tilted his head sideways and staggered towards Havaj with his arms outstretched, growling. "No, you idiot," Jade said, laughing. "Zombies don't growl. They moan." Symon tried out a moan; Mikane said it sounded like a dying cow.

Havaj was the only one who wasn't laughing. "Hey buddy, what's the deal with you?" Symon asked him. "You look all serious."

Havaj sighed. "I've just been thinking," he said. "Every time I get my shot in the morning, I regret it. It just makes me feel... vulnerable. Like I have no control over my own body. Why can't they just let us stop when we want?"

Mikane folded his arms over his chest. "This again, Havaj?" He said. "I don't see why you're so adamantly against these shots. Our country has the best healthcare system in the world. I mean, just look at what they've done for me. Because of their miracle drugs, my diabetes doesn't even affect me."

"Then there's the immunity boost, too. We pretty much never get sick," Jade added.

"Right," Mikane said. "Why would you want to give that up?"

"Yeah," scoffed Symon. "I wish they could put something into your shot to make you stop whining."

Havaj gaped at Symon indignantly. "You... I thought you were on my side in this issue!" He said, his voice rising. "You helped me vandalize the billboard. Did you even believe in what you were writing?"

Symon took a step back from the harshness of his friend's voice. "Whoa, you really thought I was some kind of legit rebel?" He said. "That's just one of the things we do for fun. You know, 'Fight the power', that kind of stuff? Dude, I've known you since grade school and I've never seen you get this pissed about anything."

"Dammit, you just take everything for granted, don't you? 'I can do whatever I want.'", he said in a mockery of Symon's voice. "'It's okay to be addicted to a powerful drug.' 'A generous guy is going to pick me up off the street and give me a place to live.' 'The government is never going to use-"

Havaj stopped abruptly. He was about to continue, when suddenly his head began to spin. The room seemed to grow, twisting around him like a carnival mirror trick. He raised a hand to his forehead, reaching out to the wall with the other hand in an attempt to steady his balance. To his surprise, Symon was doing the same thing. The dizziness intensified, and was soon joined by a wave of pain surging throughout his body. His legs gave out. He thought he would go unconscious, but instead remained on the brink; he was just conscious enough to feel the burning agony.

Jade stared aghast at the two boys trembling on the ground. Mikane ran his fingers through his hair, staring solemnly into empty space. "I remember when I got my first warning," he said.

The Treatment- Chapter 3

The next morning began with a familiar, sickening chime. Mikane's alarm was set to 6:00 am, as usual. Havaj jolted upright as if pricked by a needle. "Really, Mikane? 6:00 on a Sunday?" He grumbled. Mikane had already showered and was halfway dressed; apparently his internal clock had beaten the alarm.

"Hey, little H," he said. "You know what they say: early to bed and early to rise makes you a cool guy... or something like that."

"It's Sunday. You don't work Sunday mornings anymore."

Mikane shrugged. "Well, getting up early is a hard habit to break."

"But look, you didn't even need to set your alarm. Why did you make us get up too?"

"Hey, when you're the one paying the rent, you can set your own alarm." He flashed a grin at Havaj, who smirked and shook his head. "Besides, don't you like beating the morning rush?"

"Yeah, that's right," Havaj said. He began to think about telling Mikane what happened the night before. He doubted Mikane would be angry with him- Mikane getting angry would be like a building sprouting wings and flying- but Havaj was still apprehensive about confessing his first brush with the law.

As if reading his mind, Mikane said, "So, why did you get home so late anyways? Been causing some trouble?" Havaj sighed and told his brother what had happened. He relayed each detail of last night's adventure, from the vandalized Eumenfield billboard to the OCLER and signet ring. Mikane walked over to Havaj, resting his meaty hand on Havaj's shoulder. "You know, I used to be a rebel kid like you once." He chuckled, his eyes wandering to some bittersweet memory. "I got my first warning when I was seventeen, too. You remember that?"

"Not really," Havaj muttered. He was loath to recall any memory from when his mother was still around.

"Well, it's just a phase we all go through." Mikane walked over to the mirror, taming his unruly dark hair with a comb. "Eventually you'll realize that 'The Man' isn't such a bad guy after all."

Havaj rolled his eyes. "You don't even follow the news," he said. "Haven't you heard about all the horrible things they do?"

"You mean the crazy rumors those good-for-nothing little punks spread around the district? No. You're better than that, Havaj. You and Symon stop listening to that nonsense. Once you get a job, we can save up enough money between the three of us to get out of this dump. Then you'll change your point of view, I promise." Havaj glanced over at Symon, who was still fast asleep; he had managed to escape the wrath of Mikane's alarm."Well, let's get ready to head to the Station," Mikane said. "Beat the morning rush."

~~

The "Station" was only five minutes walking distance from their apartment building. Symon yawned loudly as they left the building and started down the street. The sun, sitting at the top of the buildings, cast long shadows on the ground. As they walked, Havaj scanned the streets, taking in every detail. It was a habit of his; even sleep-deprived as he was, he didn't want to let anything escape his sight. Two young girls dashed across the street, singing a schoolyard chant between bouts of laughter. Mikane wasn't the only early bird in the district, it seemed. A few yards down the road, a compact street sweeper was prodding at a bundle of unrecognizable trash, its driver looking quite bored. They turned a corner. A haggard and wild-eyed man was sitting on the ground, hugging a lamppost as he shivered violently. "Weaning myself off," he stammered to nobody in particular. "Gone a whole day without. Tryin' for two days. Weaning myself off."

Havaj was so absorbed in his people-watching that he did not notice the young woman blocking their path. Startled, he quickly took a step backwards. "Wow, Havaj," she said, laughing. "You're so zoned out you might as well be sleepwalking."

"Hi, Jade," Symon said, stifling a yawn.

"You too, Symon? What, were you two partying it up last night and forgot to invite me?"

"Oh, they had a party all right!" Mikane said with a sigh. "A party with a signet ring."

Jade's thin eyebrows raised. "They got caught in the act? I didn't think that would ever happen. What kind of stunt were they trying to pull this time?"

Havaj answered, "Enlightening the public-"

"Defacing a billboard," Mikane interrupted.

Jade clicked her tongue, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she shook her head. "You should have invited me anyways," she said, flashing them a grin.

As the four childhood friends walked to the Station together, Symon related his own grandiose version of their adventure to Jade, who chuckled in amusement. Havaj suddenly noticed that his older brother looked pensive. He had no idea what Mikane could be thinking about, but something was certainly amiss.

He had been let off with a warning.

The Treatment- Chapter 2

Havaj had never been caught before in his life. After years of delinquency and countless close calls, he had started to think that he was invincible. One staring contest with a standard-issue Obsidian City Law Enforcement Rifle was all it took to bring that delusion crashing down.

Time slowed to a crawl in Havaj's mind, and the air became syrup. He thought about the possible courses of action. If he stepped down peacefully, he would obviously be punished. What would his punishment be like? The ghetto kids' colorful stories about the horrendous conditions in Obsidian's prison flickered across his mind. The only other option was escape. Escape? Havaj thought. No, that would be suicide! He became dimly aware of Symon, who, standing next to him, was likely pondering the same things.

"Step down onto the street!" The officer barked. Suddenly, Havaj noticed something about Symon. He looked tense; his muscles were rigid. Like a cornered rabbit about to run. Instinctively, Havaj grabbed Symon's arm to stop him from moving. The look Symon gave him was defiant, accusing. "Come on. Let's go down," Havaj said, dragging his friend along.

~~

Slinging the OCLER back over his shoulder, the officer browsed the two boys' backpacks. Finding nothing but a few cans of spray paint, he tossed the packs back to them. "Your names, please?" He asked, directing his gaze at Havaj first. Hesitantly, Havaj stepped forward. The officer roughly grabbed Havaj's collar and pulled down his shirt to reveal a port sticking out of the base of his neck. Tattooed on the bottom edge of the port in black ink was his name, Havaj Hesconnu. After jotting down the name on an electronic tablet, he did the same to Symon. He tapped a few more times on his tablet, then consulted the screen. "This appears to be your first infarction on record, for both of you," he said. "I hope you realize that vandalism is a serious issue in Obsidian City." He cleared his throat, then fixed a stern gaze at them. "Because you two are minors, I'm letting you off with a warning. If you ever do this again, the consequences will be more severe. You'll be facing fines up to..."

The officer's voice seemed distant. Havaj's gaze drifted to the man's left hand, where a white signet ring adorned his index finger. This ring was the symbol of Obsidian authority, worn by all members of government and law enforcement. The streetlight cast an eerie blue hue on the ring. As the officer finished speaking, Havaj realized that he hadn't really been paying attention. All he could think of was that one word: Warning. The rest of the night was like an unsettling somnambulation. On the way back to the Maze District, Havaj said very little as he tried to make sense of what happened. Only a warning? What is a warning?

They arrived at a three-story apartment building, inconspicuous as any in the district. Stepping through the door, Havaj glanced at the clock on the nearest wall. 12:30 am. Warning. A sudden weariness struck him. As he and Symon walked past the welcome room he glanced at the portrait hanging on the wall opposite the clock. The man depicted was perfectly coiffed and dressed, his square jaw framing a stridently confident smile. This was President Darius Mastellan, and his face seemed to say, "Trust me. Everything is going to be all right." I was let off with a warning.

Havaj and Symon entered the shabby apartment they shared. The room contained three mattresses, with the third already occupied by Mikane, Havaj's older brother. The two boys mumbled something along the lines of "good night", and sleep came quickly.

For Bill Biggart

A passing taxi cab driver called out

Words that would make Bill Biggart

Run to his apartment

But not to hide from the horrific event

 Happening in the city he called home

He seized three cameras and made a decision

To suck in the smoke that had replaced the American air

Just to get that last picture

Surrounded by towering buildings

Bill could see the beams being destroyed

On the two biggest buildings up a head.

Snap

Click

Went the camera

People reemerging from flames

Rendered confused

Covered in ash

With their faces forming expressions

Only a photograph can describe

Snap

Click

Went the camera

An ambulance gallantly storming out of the darkness

Out of the smoky areas of light

Towards a man standing lit up in the moment

Hoping the seconds he spent in that rubble

Would not be the last of his life

Snap

Click

Went the camera

Men carried an ailing individual

Who laid with eyes loosely closed

His face telling the story better than any poet can

A man near the front of the group points forward

He does not wander for he knows the way

They moved attempting not to breath the air

Moved with purposeful strides

With each step their clothes collected a little more dust

The man behind the camera

He managed to move forward

Towards the buildings as they burned

As they fell to the ground

As America stood frozen

Until he was underneath

Looking up at ensured death

His hands brought his instrument up

He was right there

Watching a daring and dauntless fireman sprint forward

Towards a disheveled yet bright and golden mess

Snap

Click

Went the camera

His last picture

Ashes to Ashes

The buildings fell down

Covering the land with sorrow

Unforgettable and lasting sorrow

Bill was buried in the debris

And his cameras

Were turned a murky color of brown

However

They did not go undiscovered 

One had photographs on it

Photographs pleading to be seen

To be remembered

Horrendous

Heartbreaking

Heroic pictures

That would go on to be preserved in our memories

Most of  us couldn’t know what it felt like to be there

But we could at least understand

That there were others that did

Because one man

Took one last picture

G.

                She had always been the most uplifting one of the group. Earthy tones had always covered the optimistic flower-child and she hardly complained about trivial things. A smile tended to stretch across her face, her body was unstill as she yearned for something other than sitting on a couch. Always laughing, always making others laugh, never bringing in negative air. Probably the happiest and healthiest of us.

            But here she was, walking up my stairs in tears, her face red as she wiped the moisture to her hands. I reached out and she quickly accepted the embrace.

            “Everything sucks,” she cried. We moved into the spare room and sat. She continued as I got a good look at her. Normal clothes, her hair pulled back, but something unusual stuck out amongst her usual bracelets. A white cloth covering her wrist. I was shocked. I mean, I’ve had the attention seeking “friends” that would show up with their scratches and stories, pretending to hide what they, apparently, didn’t want people to see. But this was different. She was one to yell at someone for doing that. She would think it was stupid. But here she was, with a medical grade bandage around her wrist. I didn’t bother to ask, because she was about to tell me everything. And she did.

            I already knew about her smoking weed, and I already knew that she had sex before, but that was it. Her parents were divorcing, she had her military boyfriend, went to high school and had a job. None of this is special or surprising. But what came out of her next was news, which perhaps was my fault for just being home all the time. Drugs, sex with friends of friends, and being committed to the local institution for trying to kill herself. These weren’t happening all the time, but they happened about once or twice.

            “You know,” she said after the quick list of what she had done. “He told everyone in his family that I was a crack addict. His own girlfriend. He lied to them all for no reason.” Anger was starting to overcome the tears of pain and sadness. “His family was like mine. His sister is one of my best friends and his mom was way more of a mom to than my own. I don’t know what to do. They all hate me now.”

           

S.

My phone rang and her name flashed across the screen. I answered.

            “Hey,” I simply said. “What’s up?” There was no way she had called to casually chat. Her usual quiet voice started to speak the same familiar story I had heard before.  He was out, and he had been for a while now. The baby was asleep after crying for an hour straight. We both knew that he was going to come back home, most likely smelling like alcohol and maybe bringing people into their house. But for now she was alone, and I knew what was coming. And it did.

"Can you come over?" She was a city away and I honestly couldn't. I felt terrible. I told her I couldn't, and she gave the sad "Okay," but it continued. I stayed on the phone with her and listened, like I usually did, supporting her along the way.

18 years old, 19 in the summer, with an infant child. For now, she was living in an apartment she rented with her fiancé. They had just moved out her mother’s house. The rent was an issue for them, and they were trying to make it work. They had recently moved in, even though it was snowing out. But here she was, alone again, even though they just started something new.

“I’m outside,” she started. “I have been for a while. There’s snow covering me.”

“What about the baby?” I quickly asked, concern hitting me right away.

“She’s asleep.”

“What if she wakes up?”

“Oh, she won’t. She sleeps through the night. We’re pretty lucky.”

I wasn’t really at ease, but then my next issue came out.

“Why are you outside? You’re going to get sick. It’s freezing.”

“Well…” she started. “I was hoped he’d get back soon and see me like this and realize how long he’s been gone. He said two hours, and it’s been five. I just want him to feel bad for something.”

I could understand that reasoning, but there was a baby inside and she is the mother. I knew that she really did love her baby, and was trying to get the father’s attention by doing this, but it still wasn’t the best move.

“Babe,” I said. “You need to get in there and warm up. Check on your daughter. I don’t want you getting sick because of him. If you need some sense knocked into him, I’ll just get him with a baseball bat for you.”

She let out a small laugh.

“I wish that would work,” she said. I could hear the tinge of sadness in her small voice.

“Well, what else is going on?” I asked “How are you two settling in?”

“Oh it’s fine…”she simply said, but I knew her little voice was about to go on a rant. “But he keeps bringing his friends over, like, after they go out drinking and stuff. And he doesn’t even care. And there’s this girl, and she just… She gives me this bad vibe. I don’t know what she wants. But it’s annoying. And when they’re over, he just doesn’t care about our family.” Her quiet little voice was getting louder and angrier.

“You know, he didn’t help unpack. I did a lot of it. Well, his friend helped, but that’s it. I’ve been in the hospital and I was doing all of it. But he gets all mad at me for everything. He even threw me the other day. Just shoved me across the room.”

“That’s it,” I interjected. “I am beating him with a baseball bat.