I am living In a house with my son (a much earlier version
of him). There are also a number of
house-mates that share the house with me (here I have a vague feeling of some
old-guard Scadians and fandom folk).
Behind the house is a beautiful ravine which gives us a beautiful view.
My son and I are in the basement and working on a virtual
puzzle. It’s coming out to be a car of
some sort but then I notice that along the back, where the trunk normally is,
appears bright arrangement of tubes. As
piece by piece is set, this arrangement takes on a more ominous appearance, and
finally, just before the final two pieces are put in, I become alarmed. The twisted pipes, bending into each other
are so vibrant as to appear holographic, just waiting to burst through the
screen. There is something so frightening
about them that I tell my son to go and get one of the housemates.
Before he can do this, they all come down, somewhat alarmed
themselves. They tell me that something
is happening out on the streets and we need to escape. They now show me a door that will take us
into the lower regions of the ravine, and we all begin our escape, going along
the narrow path. The trees tower above
us, and while we’re running, I tell them about this frightening puzzle we were
just working on. Someone tells me it’s a
control device that is appearing all over the city. By now we approach a small lookout point, and
my heart sinks – waiting for us is a woman in a black and gray uniform. She’s an older woman with very short gray
hair and pale eyes, but these eyes are hard and unyielding. She carries a smaller version of that
contraption, and it’s almost pulsing with its own life.
We all turn and begin to run through the trees, or rather
the roots of the trees, because now the trees have become totally gigantic. Of course, we don’t get far, because now
others in the uniform are surrounding us and we are brought up to the lookout
point.
It is then I notice that my son and another man from our
group are not with us. I feel
overwhelming relief in thinking that they may have escaped. We are marched off into the city core and are
joined by many more people from across the city. Somehow I manage to slip away from them all
and make my way back to the lookout point without being “converted” (that is
the new buzz-word for our brain-washing).
I sit on the wooden rail, and it’s not long before I’m joined by my son
and the young man who took care of him.
He appears normal, but I can tell that something isn’t quite right and
confront him. He appears confused for a
few moments as though he has just remembered his former life, which indeed he
had, because he says that the conversion process is very painless and not much changes
afterwards, except that he sees things “differently”, but can’t tell me in what
way. My son, to my immense relief,
appears untouched. I take him by the
hand and slowly back away, while my friend continues to sit there trying to
figure things out. I feel very grateful
that he saved my son, and deeply sorry that I must leave my friend.
As we make our way to the city, to the now empty streets, I
see a pretty scarf in an abandoned basket on a stone fence. Some instinct moves me to pick up the scarf
and drape it over my face like a veil.
Somehow I know my son is safe, and now I feel safe also, as though this
thin silk has put a barrier between me and the world. It’s a bit disconcerting seeing through the
water-coloured splotches of lilac and pale green, but I soon get used to it.
Eventually, we get on the bus, and sit beside a thin elderly
woman who has two hedgehogs in her basket.
She’s smiling and petting them as though they are her children, and my
son, totally intrigued, tries to pet them too.
They start squealing and bristling at this and the woman seems to wake
up and notice us for the first time. Even though she appears confused, it is a
moment of clarity for her as well, and she says in apologetic tones, that the
animals will only tolerate her touch.
Then, just as quickly, she fades back into her stupor.
We get off at the next stop, close to the house we used to
live in so happily, and approach it along the empty streets. I wonder where all the people have gone, but
then remind myself that I really do not want to know. Empty though the streets may be, I see that
the garbage and recycling bins have all been set out, so someone is still here
to take care of such small mundane tasks.
One bin catches my attention – something glittery, something shiny. I look through it and find a beautiful little
girl’s dress made out of the bright fabrics.
In the bin are neatly folded bolts of fabrics, and I think what a shame
it is that all this is now considered unnecessary, how soon all beauty will
fade from the world. Suddenly emboldened
by this thought, I begin to gather up the bolts, determined to at least save this
much.
As though it is a signal, I am joined by other women, who
are chattering brightly and congratulating me, as though I had just passed some
test. We all return to a house, where we
begin talking about creating some costumes.
My son rolls his eyes as though to say, “Here we go again!” and settles
himself on the couch beside me. None of
the women make any mention of my veil as they talk, and I am silent. Silent, that is, until someone asks if any of
us have ever seen “History Bites”.
Timidly, because I still don’t know whether to speak or not, I tell them
that for a season I actually worked on it.
One of the women then comes over and gently pulls off my
veil. The world is suddenly so bright I
have to close my eyes for a moment. I
can feel the tension beyond the house.
We all know what is going on out there, how the people are being
brainwashed and controlled by forces unknown, but here, with these women, my
son and I are safe.
The woman is still looking at me when I open my eyes, and smiling
warmly says, “We’ve been waiting for you…”
These simple words speak more than of my sewing skills. There are volumes of meanings there, but
while I’ll have to figure them out later, I know at this moment we are safe.
