Strange & Weird Stories (The unknown: As close as beside you)
In these stories stuff just happens. There is no scientific justification for
anything, and there doesn’t need to be.
Look at your own life: Doesn’t stuff just happen, all the
time? Like what happened to my homework? I know the dog didn’t really eat it. Or
where’s the remote? Or how did I get here…and where is here? Who am I? You know
what I mean, but, of course, stuff that happens in these stories is a little
more serious than a lost remote. The late-nineteen-fifties and early-sixties
television series, Rod Serling’s THE TWILIGHT ZONE, in my opinion, was filled
with stories of events that just happened. When that show began I was ten years
old. I would glue myself to the screen,
and Rod Serling himself was one of my early heroes, and still is. According to the 1996 Oxford Dictionary, the
“twilight zone” refers to “…any physical or conceptual area that is undefined
or intermediate, esp. one that is eerie or unreal.” So Rod was right on target in naming his
series.
I’m not
saying my stories will come up to Rod Serling’s standards; what I am
saying is that what he created helped me immensely in what I have created.
Faithless is he that
says farewell when the road darkens.
British scholar & fantasy novelist (1892 - 1973)
This is one of the shorter stories (in entirety.) A second one "Food Project" will follow. There are eleven more. Following the second story will be a Contents list, and more information.
He tensed himself and leaped, up, high,
turned his head both ways, landed again, and leaped again. But, all he could see in any direction were
others like himself.
He landed, brushed one of the others. Barely enough room for elbows, let alone
leaping and hoping for the same spot to be open when he came down. The other shot a dirty look at him, then
turned away and moved farther into the sea of others, all alike except for some
facial differences, eye color, height, weight, all anyone could see of the
others.
All wore the same clothing. Gray suits with hoods, hand openings,
trapdoor crotches opening only in back.
They didn't do much of anything, mainly stood around chewing on the gray
doughy masses called viands, conversations mostly limited to one word
descriptions of the viands varied tastiness.
Tart, spicy, salty, or bland and lumpy.
Two groups stood in line by the gray
Houses of Excretion. One group waited to
make their deposit, the other to receive their portion of fresh while you wait
viands, and all could hear the sound of machinery grinding and whirring away in
the processing of viands.
In gray, out gray, the sky gray, the
ground. Everything was gray. He, nearly six feet, taller than most, often wondered
if anything existed except gray. He
wanted to believe something did, but, from birth, all he had known were
changing one gray suit for another as he grew.
He decided to jump once more, would give
this leap all he had. So he gathered his
legs, waited for the others to move away slightly—which sometimes happened—then
squatted low, stretched his arms behind, took a deep breath, and leaped,
up. Up.
UP!
And for just one second he thought he saw
something, far away. Something brighter,
and another color, something like that bright ball that occasionally appeared in
the sky among gray clouds. He decided to
try leaping once more, even though he had about used all his energy.
So up he went. But not far.
He had weakened.
When he came down he struck another body,
so close were they jammed. Both fell
down.
"Why do you not watch what you are
doing?" the other shouted at him as they scrambled up. But the voice was different, higher,
reminding him of his mother not seen since weaning. Remembering his mother, and that other place
with other mothers and the smaller others like himself, he thought of the one
time he had seen a fence, the only structure in their world except for the
Houses of Excretion.
"I am sorry," He said.
The other brushed itself off and faced
him. Some light colored hairs had
escaped the hood, which were quickly tucked back in, but yes, this other was
different. The face was smoother, and
the body appeared to be more slender except for two bumps just below the neck,
and other unusual features, features he remembered, barely, his mother having.
"Why do you stare at me?" the
other asked.
He did not know why, "I do not
know," but he did know he enjoyed what he saw. He had felt so little joy in life that he had
only dubious understanding of what joy was, "You look funny…I mean
different, you look different."
"Of course I am different." The facial features changed. The eyes softened, the mouth widened, the
cheeks took on a rosy glow, "Have you never seen a she?"
"She is mine!" A voice, loud, what He was more accustomed to
hearing, interrupted them as a third other, elbowing, pushing, arrived,
carrying two of the viands masses.
She?
He had heard of the shes, that they were very much different, but he had
never seen one. Only hearsay, for the sexes
were kept separate, allowed together only for breeding purposes, strictly
decided and controlled by the sachems, also dressed in gray except in robes
with black belts rather than body suits, and generally taller, taller than He
even, and all carried a staff.
The
third other grabbed the she by the arm, then jerked her into the masses. But, remembering his good feelings of joy, He
decided he could not let that happen. He
wanted to keep staring at the she, so followed, doing his own elbowing and
pushing, and soon caught the two, and grabbed the she by the other arm.
"Stop!" He said.
Both stopped, and gawked at him. Many of the others stopped their eating and
standing, and also gawked.
Facial features of the she changed again,
changed to warm, and radiant. And again
He felt joy, greater joy and happiness than he had ever known, "If you
will come with me," He said, "I will take you away from here, and
protect you forever, and keep you warm."
He had no idea how to do what he had just said, but it had sounded like
all the right things to say. Long ago he
had decided there had to be
something
different, somewhere. Had he not just
seen that faraway, unexplained brightness?
Suddenly he clung strongly to believing it truly existed, and was
better.
The
she shook off the other's apparently illegal grasp, "Then I will go with
you." The she's facial features
changed still more, became still more wonderful. He felt his own features changing. They felt wonderful too, very wonderful.
"I am called He," he said when
they were alone as possible.
"I am She."
"No, that is what you are. What do the others call you?"
"I am called She. All of us are."
"But you are different from the
others."
"No, I am the same. But I am glad you think I am different. I think you are different, too."
"Come," He said, "We will
leave here." It was then or never. He was positive of somewhere else existing,
and the appearance of She made him want to find it more than ever.
****
Their
first day passed. Then their
second. Then a week, and a month. He and She pressed on through the endless
masses of others in gray suits. They
stood in line at the Houses of Excretion, made their deposits, ate their
viands, dodged the sachems, and hoped the others would not tell of their
illegal act of being together. And it
occurred to them that few others even noticed, so impassive were they.
Finally one day conditions began to
change. The others were no longer just
standing, eating, existing. Many had actual
expressions, twisted and ugly and showing anger, and fear, and anxiety, all
expressions causing He and She to feel the opposite of joy. And none of the others were talking. Sounds now were of agony, mourning, and the further
He and She walked the worse conditions became, until the others were fighting
and shoving, trying to go in the opposite direction.
The direction He and She had just come
from.
But they pushed on, holding onto each
other, pushing and shoving themselves.
"We must be getting close to somewhere else," He said, "I
have always believed it existed."
"So have I," answered She,
"But I have talked to no other who has ever seen it."
At last they broke free from the hordes of
others and stood alone in an open space for the first time. But close ahead, what the others evidently
had been trying to escape, roared a wall of that different color He had seen in
the distance so long ago. The bright
wall stretched in both directions as far as they could see.
"Do not go into it," said an
other nearest them, "I have heard some have, and have never come
back."
He waved to the other, then turned to She,
who gave him the warmest change of facial expression he had ever seen. It made him feel so very, very, very, wonderful.
"Maybe," said She, "The
reason the others never come back is because it is better there."
"Yes." He agreed and again faced that bright wall of
whatever it was. It was radiating heat
like that great ball in the sky, producing wonderful feelings in both He and
She.
"Maybe we should remove our suits
first," said She.
He did not know why they should, but also
did not know why they should not. So
they did. Soon both stood nude, facing
each other and experiencing primeval thoughts as to why they were so
different. But they were at last alone,
but still hearing the sounds from the masses of others. But so good to be alone together, seeing each
other without those ugly suits, and learning about their new feelings, and
wondering what else they would discover about being alone together.
"You two! Put on your suits! You are illegal!"
They turned quickly toward the
others. Outside the masses stood a
sachem.
"He, I do not want to,” said She, “We
cannot go back."
"And we will not." He grabbed She's hand, "Come, we will
run into that heat, and die if we have to."
They turned toward the wall of bright
color, held each other's hand tight, and ran.
The sounds of agony and mourning rose behind them, and the sound of the
sachem shouting at them. But they paid
none of it heed and ran faster, faster, getting closer to the heat becoming
hotter, until it felt unbearably hot, but they would not stop.
"Faster!" He shouted, and pulled
She along faster.
Together they leaped toward that bright
wall of whatever it was, and into it.
****
Together
they landed and rolled on the other side.
Still hand in hand they leaped up and looked at their new world, and
walked partway into it. There were no
others. None. For the first time in their lives they stood
completely alone, and saw their world unbounded and beautiful, with that great ball
above shining in a bright and cloudless sky.
They saw many, many, things they could not give names, and other living
beings that walked on four legs instead of two.
"What is this place?" She asked.
"I do not know, but I like
it." He gripped She's hand and
turned them around to again face the bright wall, "Come, let us go back
and tell the others they do not have to worry about the heat, that there is a
wonderful world on this side."
The two hurried away, and would have
returned to that other world of grayness.
But a much different sachem appeared in
their path and held up a hand. This one
was dressed in a robe the color of the sky, "Stop. You cannot go back."
"Look, He," She said, "It
is a she dressed as a sachem."
"Yes, He and She, I am different from
what you have known, and your selfless act of returning to that wretched other
world is why I stopped you. The he sachems
control the masses, and the she sachems help to guide life on this side of the
flames. Only the others with the courage
to strive for something new and better are allowed to leave there, and to stay
here. Only those who dare face the
flames. And it would be pointless to go back."
"Why?" He and She asked in
unison.
"Because few would believe you. Impossible to find those who
would." The sachem in the
sky-colored robe scrutinized them calmly, then raised her staff, nodding toward
their new home, "Now go. Go out
into the forests and meadows. Clothe
yourselves and give yourselves new names.
Find the others who have gone before you. They are few but they will help you learn
about your new life here."
"But what will we eat?" She
asked, "Where are the Houses of Excretion?"
"The Houses of Excretion are
humankind's ultimate consequence for overpopulating and fowling its nest,"
the sachem said, "Long ago, He, your kind was called man, and your kind,
She, was woman. But men and women became
vain, thinking of each self as the ultimate glory, caring not that their
resources were finite, that their wastes were poisoning their very existence.
"Life here would have ended had we
sachems not taken control, and herded all humankind into the enclosure of flames,
with the fences around women and another for women with young. One day soon, when enough others have braved
the flames and escaped…," the sachem hesitated briefly, her face sobered,
"Then we will allow the flames to sweep inward.
"So, in this world you bury your
excretions and find different food.
Viands are a thing of the past."
He faced She. The exact meaning of what the sachem had said
escaped him, "Come, She. Let us
discover this new place of beauty and brightness." They turned, began walking away.
"Now that you are man and woman
again," the sachem called after them, "There are three rules. Use only what you need. Treat others with respect and dignity. And reproduce yourselves with only one young."
They stopped, again and faced the sachem,
"Reproduce ourselves…?" asked She.
The sachem smiled, "You will discover
what I mean."
The future? Yes, if we don't change our ways.
--0--
The back door began opening. Daylight appeared, brighter than the small
circles of light surrounding Torbo and his Hereford companions. Maybe daylight meant freedom. Torbo pushed forward. His body was lighter-built than most of the others,
but bulky enough to hold its own. A man
appeared in the daylight holding a long pointed object. Torbo had seen the object at the beginning of the
trip, when he had been jostled onto the corral that moved. He knew the object stung like the bite of a
fly only harder.
But it did not frighten him.
****
Alex
had watched the trucks arriving and held his prod ready. He didn't use it often, but sometimes, to
speed a critter on its way, to prevent mayhem, yes, he would use it. From beside the truck a young boy about
twelve appeared with a dog, "Hi-yah!" The boy yelled. The dog barked.
A panting Hereford steer went down.
"Hi-yah! Hi-yah!"
With the relentless yelling and barking
some of the critters stampeded, some leaping the fallen Hereford, others trampling.
****
Torbo
moved with the crush of bodies toward the door.
Daylight streamed onto sweating red backs, and Torbo's black-and-white
one. When Torbo reached the fallen Hereford he stopped, sniffed,
then carefully stepped to miss it.
They filed down a steep ramp onto
concrete into a small pen, then through a gate, then another and another, until
they were allowed to move about almost freely. The fallen Hereford finally got up and
joined them. The last gate clanged shut.
Torbo's
world had been reduced to steel and concrete, but at least outside in the
sunshine. But where was his own corral? Where was his dry, personal pen where he
rolled in dust baths? Where was his
green pasture with lush grasses? Most of
all, where was the young woman who rubbed his nose, scratched behind his ears
and massaged his great back?
If Torbo could have thought he would have
wondered these things. But he couldn't
think. He couldn't speak. He couldn't feel on exactly the
same terms as humans. But he did sense
that something was very, very, different, in his world.
****
His
shift was about over but Alex had never watched the actual processing. It was time. He worked there. He needed to see what happened inside. He deserved to see what had to happen in order
for people to have food. Besides, one particular
critter had caught his eye. That Holstein steer, a tall,
beautiful animal, the one that had stepped carefully over the fallen Hereford.
****
As
the morning progressed, more and more of the others who had arrived with Torbo
had left. Then gates and partitions of
fences had been moved to make their pen smaller, never giving them more room. Torbo and his seven remaining Hereford companions were still
almost body on body in the steel and concrete pen. No room to lie down. No water, no food. No communication except for an occasional
bellow from somewhere.
Those in Torbo's pen were silent, just
standing, looking at whatever movement caught their attention or passed their field
of vision. Not much. An occasional car on the adjacent street. An
occasional human passing their pen.
None spoke with soothing voices. No comforting hands. Most did not even look at Torbo and his
companions. Where was the young woman
who had been with Torbo since birth? Where
was her voice? Her hands? Her loving arms?
Where was Torbo's world?
Shift change came. Men began arriving, many of them. And some women. Torbo sensed some were women because they smelled
different. His nose searched for his
young mistress. But her scent was not
among them.
A man appeared at their pen with the
pointed object. Torbo did not fear
it. The gate clanged open. Torbo's companions began to push. Torbo pushed back. They became a crush again, and moved from
their outside pen into another pen in a building. More steel and concrete. Then they reached a very narrow pen which
soon became just one body wide.
The men began shouting and jabbing their
stinging sticks. From ahead of Torbo
came the sound of a thud. He had never heard
such a sound. He lifted his head above
the rump of the body ahead of him. He
saw nothing but men and darkness.
The sound came again. It meant nothing to Torbo, yet it began to
affect the chemicals in his brain, the senses in his being. He saw one of his companions ahead of him disappear
through a very small lighted doorway. Then
came that sound of thud again.
Had a bound and blindfolded human in
such a situation begun to hear an unusual sound, the human would have begun to feel
fear, and then, as the human ahead of that human moved ahead and the sound came
closer and closer and again and again, that human would soon have known
irrationalizing, terrifying, fear.
The body just ahead of Torbo went through
the narrow opening. Torbo went through too, at least his head did, and he saw a
man ahead with a different object, different from the stinging stick, yet Torbo
could tell no difference because he had no intelligence. None, at least, that humans could understand.
The man placed the object behind the ear
of Torbo's last companion. Came the thud
sound. Torbo's companion went down. All
four of its legs had buckled. Then
Torbo's companion moved forward again, but no longer by its own power.
Torbo was next.
Deep in Torbo's brain fear was
building. From behind came the sting of
the stick. It didn't hurt that
much. Torbo did not fear it. But he moved ahead anyway—where was his
mistress? That soothing voice?
****
Alex
watched the Holstein step onto the killing
slab. Its lustrous black-and-white pelt
appeared to have been currycombed daily. He pictured the handsome animal as a young
girl's 4H project. But the blue ribbon
winners did not come here, at least not early in life, at least he hoped not.
The man with the stun gun positioned
himself. Another with a large knife
approached. The Holstein lifted its head. Alex wished the Holstein would fight. But he knew no matter how hard it might fight
it was going to die. That's what the
critter had come here for. To die.
****
Torbo
saw bright lights. He held his head high
as he could and looked all around at the many humans. The different object touched Torbo behind the
ear. Torbo finally knew fear. His brain flashed the message to run. He tried. The thud sound came, but Torbo did not hear
it.
No more visions came of the comforting
hands, the soothing voice, the loving arms, for Torbo was no more.
****
Alex
kept watching. He had to watch. Just once.
The Holstein's legs buckled under
it. Its body hit the cold concrete. It moved ahead but not of its own power. The feet and lower legs left the body. The head left. Hooks grappled the body onto its back. A knife cut it. More hooks removed the shining black-and-white
hide in one swipe.
A great knife then cut the carcass into
two pieces, then four. Smaller knives
cut it into more and more pieces until they became sirloin for the rich,
hamburger for the poor, bones for meal, hide for shoes, guts for fertilizer.
Alex could watch no longer. The beautiful Holstein steer had been reduced
to so many pieces, so quickly, that nothing was left to watch. From birth to death the animal had been
nothing but a project, a food project. He
left the kill floor, now only wanting to go home, away from this.
He reached his car. On the adjacent street appeared a speeding
pickup. His hand on the door handle,
Alex hesitated. The pickup squealed onto
the plant's parking lot, then speeded up and finally slid to a stop just
outside the pens.
A young woman, sixteen or seventeen,
leaped out. Her eyes wide she ran from
one worker to another. Alex heard just
one word, "…Holstein…" and wished to hear no more.
--0--
Some years ago I worked at a processing plant as gate security. When it came close to my departure date I asked permission to watch the "kill" one time. Permission was denied. I suspect the reason was fear from plant officials I might have been a member of one of the animal-rights organizations with a hidden camera. I'm not a member.
I had made some friends of the workers, so I asked one to describe to me what happened. He did a good job, as "Food Project" was born.
But since working there I continue to think of those thousands of beef cattle that moved through those gates.
The Last Unemployed Man (2100) Futuristic
The Quiet Little Town (2000) Beautiful space
What Would be Heaven (2000) What is Heaven?
Dead Animal Farm (3300) Homeless people are
disappearing
The Dreaming Glass (2400) What we all dream of
Viands (2000 words) The future, if we don’t change
our ways
Requiem for Homogen (2900) Don’t look in the mirror
The Levigation of McLeod & McLeod (3100) Revenge
on a workplace
Intermission Block (3000) Déjà vu
The Chair (2850) Workplace Heaven
Food Project (1400) The killing of Torbo
To the 19th Century (6300) A dangerous
warp of time
The Commons (8000) A trip to the past
Thanks for reading!
Contact
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