Chapter 26 - William sorts out his mind

Take your usual exam stress nightmare. That’s what I remember having one night. It was also the night/morning before I was to have an exam. A drama exam, if you are to be precise, but I remember walking into the exam in this dream so early that the group before me were still sitting it. Never mind, it didn’t bother me, it just gave me some extra time to allow me to go through the exam, I seem to remember. So I am sitting there, with an ooze of confidence slowly coming from me, but certainly there, with the others coming in. And the exam starts properly. I start to write, but instead of writing, I start scribbling with my pen, forcing it into the paper so that I start tearing each of the sheets under the top sheet. Just big, stark, bent and jagged black lines. That’s all I know and seconds pass and the exam is over. Do I feel a sense of guilt for disturbing others? Should I be glad it’s all over? Am I happy or sad right now? Should I know why people seem not to look my way? Or does that not matter? I speak to them. They are happy to talk to me, although I feel embarrassed. They tell me of how I was screaming my head off, about how I was punching at my head and pulling my hair, about my gushing tears of anguish and my total devastation. They tell me this because they were not that bothered by it at all, content to let me do what I needed to do whilst they did what they needed to. 

I begin to worry that I am breaking down. This is confirmed when walking along, I come across a person I went to school with. A person that I have not seen for so many years, yet here he is, and the same intensity that I felt during that exam comes over me and I want to punch this person. I want to destroy this person, to obliterate him, not only from the present and future, but the past also. The intensity flows through my body, every single molecule eagerly embracing this warmth, desperate for its chance to feel something, anything and suddenly I understand the horibbleness of this destructive power. And I stop it. It’s better to stop it than to let it carry on. And I realise that I can stop it, sometimes. I have to maintain control, me. I wonder why no one else saw fit to stop me. To calm me down. Is that what’s expected of me? That I can fall apart and you hardly notice? 

I woke up then and I think now about this dream, a lot of its detail having fallen back into my unconscious, maybe to be released another night, maybe to come out in some other ghastly way. I think of the details that I can remember. That coming evening I was to perform in a play. When I finished that play, which was the basis of my exam mark, I was commented on the split personality of my performance. As written in the play, my part was a woman’s part that was to be played by a man. I was that man. The way that I chose to play that part was to flick between the passion for someone who was not my stage husband, the guilt for having this affair and the need for forgiveness from my husband, and the absolute hatred and violence towards my children. Just flicking between the three. The person in my dream I had not seen for years, I studied drama with him at school. I still hate him. The way that I chose to play my part, as any of my parts and the way that I write, they are all reflections of myself. Of who I am. I feel all those emotions everyday that I put into that play. I feel all those emotions daily that I had in that dream. And this is why I wonder. Am I really unwell or is that just the hypochondriac in me, the part of me that feels it needs to destroy myself, that hates myself, that looks for any flaw that can be exaggerated in order to give myself a sense of self worth through my ‘uniqueness’? I know that I can control my violence towards other people. Every day I want to hurt somebody and I stop myself. Yet, when I’m on my own, as I guess I was in that exam room in my dream, I know that I cannot control myself and I take it all out on myself and any other object close at hand. But I wonder, how long can I suppress that anger towards others? 

You see, many would see the real scenario of struggling at an exam as a nightmare. I don’t. Many would see the total breakdown of one’s self during an extremely stressful time as a nightmare. I don’t. I see it as normal. Normal feelings in a fairly bog standard dream. Sense of loss, loneliness, lack of guidance, struggles, all within a normal night’s dream. And I chose to talk about this dream because I found a link to a common theme that others have in their dreams. Yet this nightmare usually comes long after the process of schooling and testing has come and gone, when people have steady jobs and careers. It’s supposed to tell them that they actually coped with their exams and they can cope with the pressures that life throws at them in their lives after exams. Is this my way of saying how I am to cope with life after exams, or is this my way of saying that I can cope with the tests of life? I don’t know.

I consider myself a failure. Have I just made myself a failure by purposefully, albeit unconsciously, throwing my life away? My chance of a future?

To talk about the future, how on Earth do you find jobs for an entire world with no natural resources? Factories and manufacturing resources have to be limited as the materials are so limited. Farming and agriculture, the whole building blocks of civilisation, are cancelled out. Instead, cattle are bred to keep the food supplies up, but it becomes difficult to feed the cattle. Shops are much fewer, corporatism gains a hold as the monopoly is much easier to grab when there is so little out there. Eventually, as the ships fall apart, massive maintenance is needed. Jobs are found there. But what happens when we get to Earth? We are not trained anymore for the skills needed there. Farming, mining, construction; all instead of maintenance. I guess we’ll learn. We adapted to the conditions of space. Maybe the humans will help us to learn. In which case…

The guard, who was apparently to blame for the humans’, he is definitely confirmed as human, escape is called Legalt.

“It did what!?!” I am disappointed, sorely disappointed by this guard who, still young, has so much to live for. I am disappointed that this chance to communicate with the human cannot be taken. To talk, bargain, understand. To take from, but hopefully to give back. 

“It just disappeared, Sire,” says the captain of the mission, a Yertjuk, repeating the entire contents of his report.

“But, how could you let such a thing happen?”

Yertjuk is pointing at Legalt. Blame. The shame of a world.

“It was his fault.”

I decided, in the end, to postpone the attack. They are still there, just not being active at this moment in time. It took much off my mind. I feel a sense of relief, though I still worry about having to continue with that plan. I still haven’t called them back. I have not allowed myself to completely rid myself of that guilt. I want to bring them back, but I won’t because there is just that part of me that won’t. Just won’t. The only way I could was to realise that by having a human here, we could kidnap him. Ransom him, get whatever demands we want. Though they’ve not been thought of yet. The silly part is, I doubt that they ever were thought of, that this whole thing just went ahead, regardless. We could even just talk things out. 

But it seems that by having a human, the best of his kind (I would assume), it seems more… overpowering than having huge scale destruction. It doesn’t make sense, but the sudden shock would just seem too much for people to take in and react properly, I guess. Again, I have no idea how we want them to react, what we want them to do for us. I guess this just gives us time to guess, to work it out, what everything means. Hopefully we can get the sympathy of a world for this one person, rather than the shock of a world towards itself after it’s just tried to tear itself apart. I don’t know, it doesn’t make too much sense, but I know one thing, I, we, have to get hold of this person first. We can maybe show that, with the destruction of this one person, they will feel a sense of futility, that there is nothing they can do. If he is the best there is, which I would presume, then nobody else will feel up to the task. I just don’t know what that task will be when we present it to them.

“Here we go again,” says Legalt, knowing, at least believing, that any chance of promotion is now gone.

“Insolence!” shouts Yertjuk and hits Legalt with much more force, now that he is standing in front me. What is going on? I don’t understand, I don’t know, how? “But how? I mean humans don’t just disappear into thin air,” I find myself saying.

“That’s what I said, Sire,” says Yertjuk. He salutes me.

Legalt tries to protest at that, but he is ignored.

“Congratulations, but that’s not exactly helping, is it?” I say. Thing is, I don’t know if I’m talking to myself or not.

“No, Sire.” He salutes once more.

“Well, what are you planning to do about it?”

“Well, erm...”

Legalt steps in where Yertjuk is trying to finish off.

“He doesn’t know, Sire.”

Why? Why do people do this to each other? Lay blame on others, bring others down with them if they know that they are going down. It all seems so difficult, all the time, to know, to wonder. But here we go now, Yertjuk pulls Legalt to one side and hits him once more. I don’t like it, I want to stop it, as Supreme Commander, surely I have the power to do this, but I feel I have no right at all to make my mark into these two peoples lives. I feel the question ‘who am I?’ keeps cropping up. 

“What did you tell him that for?”

“Well someone had to. And will you please stop hitting me, please?”

Yertjuk hits him once again. This time out of spite. I have to look away now, I cannot bear to look

“No, I will not.”

“Are you pathetic?” I ask Yertjuk, finally interrupting the conversation. He turns to face me.

“No Sire.” He salutes.

“Are you the Chief of Security for this Mothership?”

“Yes, Sire.” He salutes as hard as he can.

“Well, prove it. Because I’m not believing you.”

I put on the video of the escape. I want to watch it, to see for myself, as life is beginning to become childish and petty and so, so claustrophobic. And this is what happens, though you know already what happened. I watch you coming out of the Smoov, a graceful fall back into your Smoov, and I see the guards, they are fronted by Yertjuk, running towards you. There are shouts coming from Yertjuk as you get out of the Smoov and make a run for it. You are followed by gunfire, but this comes only from Legalt’s gun. The order that Yertjuk is giving to not fire is being ignored. Spurned on by this ‘barrage’ of a person, you continue to run, when out of your pocket you pull an object. As yet it is undefined. You reach out, far in front of you, and place the object down. It is a full size building. You are still some distance from it, but you manage to get inside unscathed and are able to use it as a barrier from the guards who are still behind. Although largely unfazed, some start to spread out, but your ploy has worked, you are safe. You repeat this, then you disappear into some boxes. Legalt is the first to reach your hiding place, but no one has any idea what has happened, where you have got to. What tricks do you have under your sleeve? All the boxes were checked. There is no-one hiding in them, but it does not matter, you found a chance and you took it. All congratulations go to you. 

“Sire,” says Skernajj.

“Can it not wait, Skernajj? I’m doing something important, here. I’m about to execute these two for their stupidity.” Execute? The words came out stronger than intended…

“Don’t look at me. It was his fault,” says Yertjuk, pointing at Legalt.

Legalt steps back, putting his hands up in protest.

“No it wasn’t. It really wasn’t. Honest.”

“Terribly sorry,” I say, meaning it as an apology, but unfinished, it comes out as a threat. We do not have executions any more. But there is still no law against it, people are just accepting what I say. I… I… want to shut up, now, Bateman is coming back, he is the destroyer, Bateman is coming, I… I…

Skernajj tries again, regardless of what is going on.

“Well, Sire. I was going to suggest that we scan the ship for any signs of human DNA. That way we know exactly where this human has disappeared to.”

I… Still in shock I look to Skernajj to help, for him to get me away, to give me an answer to the hope that has just been instilled, I say to the two in front of me “You see, now this is what I call good thinking.” But I say it with a mask of terror on my face.

Skernajj is pleased. I’m looking for a way to back out of my words now without losing grace, dignity, before Bateman comes to take them away. 

“Why, Thank you, Sire.”

I see a light now, but it’s clouded because, right now, both Yertjuk and Legalt are tied up. And Bateman comes up to them with a saw. He goes to Legalt first and starts to push the saw into his head, slowly, rhythmically, working it into his skull. First there is no blood for all of about five seconds. Nothing, just a parting in the head, but then there is a leak and slowly the blood oozes out. Nothing at first, but by the time the saw has been worked an inch into the forehead, Legalt’s arm is blackened with blood and Bateman’s arm, too, is soaked. The saw continues to cut into Legalt’s head, and what is Legalt doing? He can do nothing, at first he tries biting his hand. Starting to cut into the brain by now, he starts convulsing, shaking. The eyes are the first to react, flickering, then rolling up, as if trying to watch what is going on above. But the convulsions as motor neurones are triggered for the final time before being destroyed, a growl being emitted is ceased suddenly and then the legs kick, violently, uncontrollably so that Bateman has to stop whilst the life juices flow out and unconsciousness comes back. Finally, the head is opened, the brain pulled out and I, Bateman, start searching through this organ, looking for the answers. The answers that tell of what he is, who he is, the race that he represents, the persona, the life, the goodness, the badness. There is nothing here, no answers, and Bateman, I, am sorely disappointed. I have one choice now, to start on my next captive and Bateman gets out a knife and starts skinning the chest of Legalt, no, he is dead, of Yertjuk,  “NO!” I stumble out.

Skernajj is shocked. He thinks that that suggestion was quite clever, but not as shocked as Yertjuk is whilst Bateman scrapes away the fatty tissue that lies on top of the muscle. 

“What?!” says Skernajj. All Yertjuk is capable of is a stream of abuse in between gasps for each scrape.

“No, yes. Do it, stop it!” I get through to the muscle and, when that’s through, the rib. Bateman gets the hammer for this job. He taps away, hard enough to break the ribs, but not enough to mangle the organs underneath the rib, he pulls away the broken ribs and I yank out the heart. It beats as I grab it and continues to beat, though struggling under the crushing power of Bateman’s hand as it is pulled away. It stops. There is no answer here, if ever a person’s emotions lie in the heart, they do not present themselves. If the life force of a person is its blood, then it is just thick and sticky and, above all, messy. Bateman won’t get the answers, no, Bateman, No, Bateman, Bateman, Bateman, I am Bateman, I am Bateman, Bateman. 

“Sire, what?” asks Skernajj.

Bateman, “Yes,” I force out. Not Bateman. I am not Bateman, I am not Him, NOT HIM. I, I AM  NOT BATEMAN, CAN YOU NOT HEAR ME? HE DOES NOT EXIST. 

The visions have been coming today, they have been coming, I don’t know why. Am I stressed, am I worried, what, why? I look at Yertjuk, I look at Legalt, neither of them are harmed, but Yertjuk is disgusted, I COULD HAVE KILLED YOU, UNDERSTAND? He knows what I am doing, BUT I SAVED YOU, understand? He knows that he has now lost his job, certainly, but I could have killed him and I saved him, I am a saviour, I am God, Immortal, Everything that is contained in this ship. 

Bateman is skulking away whilst I handle Yertjuk, gently shaking him, saying to him, “don’t let me do this, don’t let me do this,” over and over, but he gets annoyed. He feels he is about to lose his life and that I am still placing pressure on him, he is feeling abused by the divine touch right now. I have the power to take and the power to give and right now, I try to give to an unresponsive audience. He asks me to be quiet. Skernajj just watches in quiet disarray.

I know now why religion is so important, why every being has to acknowledge religion for whatever reason, whatever their ideologies behind it. There is a natural order. I am at the top. It is only those at the bottom that try to ignore. 

Skernajj finally walks off to go and scan the ship for these signs of human DNA I call after him, “when you’ve finished that, execute these two, and the rest of their security team.” 

Yertjuk is looking at Legalt with utter hatred. Again, I, me have placed that hatred there. I have that awsomeness

“Now look what you’ve got me into.”

He hits Legalt once more. But the shock reverberates. I feel the power of that whack, even though I have not connected to it. I face up to something. I could not have given that punch. Only a stronger being than me could have. I am humbled, I have been deluded, I am nothing, Oh Yertjuk, forgive me, for you do not realise what a fool I have been. 

Legalt hits back with all the force he can find.

“That’s ‘Look what you’ve got me into, Sir!’” For Legalt is fighting Yertjuk now, for supremacy, to be a higher being than him, a truer divine being. The strongest survive, I have fallen.

Yertjuk turns to me.

“Sire?” But I still outrank him, I still outrank Legalt, so am I a diviner being? I don’t know anymore, after I fell, have I risen so suddenly? Am I better, worse or… no different?

“Yes? What… is… it?”

“Well, I just thought I’d take the chance to say what an utter, utter, utter bastard you are Sire. Or should I say, Sire Scumbag. Your mother was a Gortyng and your father was a Dharginj and look what they produced. An utter piece of shit that couldn’t find its Frityr with a hanget.”

I give a smug little smile. I am normal. He is normal. But I still have one power over everyone. Though it has not been used lawfully by anyone for a long time. This is just simple revenge now. True vengeance. A true god.

“Yes, well, I’m not going to die, am I?”