A SAFER PLACE
(© 1999) by KAIN MASSIN
Flash, flash, flash.
Crippling white light stabbed out and the darkness was replaced with coruscations of colours which became his entire universe. He had to go away, go away to …
… soft turquoise waters gently lapping his feet as he dangles them over the side of the boat. A gentle breeze cools his skin, and he sips from the cool drink in his hand. The Arafura. Tranquil and peaceful, but he mustn’t think like that, no; he has a job to do, has to keep watch, has to guard. An unsettling feeling grows in him: somehow he knows that this has happened before. He has a – what is that concept? – a memory.
The thought jolted him and suddenly he was back in the darkness, relaxing in the knowledge that he was safe here.
Here? Was there such a thing as here? That was another strange concept, this idea of place. Were there other heres? He had been thinking about that just before the lights had sent him away to the Arafura.
Ah! Now he knew there were two heres. The shock made him … do something. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew that he had flinched, and his world re-awakened to things he had forgotten: touch and sound. He heard water splash and felt it lap his skin. He heard himself gasp at the sensations. And remembered the last thing he remembered.
"Mister Carter – Jason," the doctor said, forcing a smile to his lips, "you know I’m here to talk about your epilepsy."
I chose to respond with a silent nod. The doctor did not waste time on it; he was unconcerned about a prisoner’s feelings. He continued with the interview. "When you have a seizure, where do you go? Do you have an image of a place?"
I actually thought about it for a moment. "Nothing definite," I replied. "Just a feeling that I have to go somewhere safer. Everything gets crazy and I go to somewhere quiet and peaceful. It’s dark there. After a while, it freaks me out and I come back."
The doctor smiled, then. "That’s very good, Jason. I can promise you that, from now on, you’ll always know where you’re going."
He picked up a light and strobed me into darkness.
Carter yelled his rage wordlessly into the darkness. They had taken him away and put him somewhere here and trained him to respond like a puppy. Trained to go where they wanted every time that they …
Flash, flash, flash.
Footfalls, booted feet, approached and stopped outside the sensory deprivation tank.
"Component 357 is becoming aware, sir."
A deep, angry voice answered. "Shit, lieutenant, I can’t waste time on shit. Treat or terminate. I won’t have gaps."
"No, sir."
Gradually, the Arafura faded and became the darkness. The darkness was his friend, his place of rest.
His prison.
With a wrench, Carter remembered. And recovered his sense of self. For the first time in years, he voluntarily lifted his head, and found he had been partially immersed in liquid. He reached up and pushed on the ceiling over him. The top of the tank opened, and Carter had to spend some minutes adjusting to the pain of light. He stood on legs weak from no use, and tore away the catheters and IV feeds and electrodes which sustained and controlled him. He climbed from the tank and saw the long rows of tanks in the hall; other tanks of epileptics.
With sopping, staggering steps, he moved to the double doors, through the air-trap, and suddenly he was outside. Warm, humid air, swaying palms and a brilliant curve of a bay in front of him.
Darwin. He’d never been here, but he knew it immediately. And, just to the north, lay the Arafura Sea, where he’d spent so much time, without actually going there.
Carter walked away from the building which had been his prison, moving through crowds of families, towards the beach. And, suddenly, Marilyn was there, enjoying the sun and cradling their newborn baby. She turned to see him, and happiness shone from her eyes as she hugged him and the baby and they were re-united.
"It’s so good to have you back.." she said. "How did you get away?"
"Yes," he said, grateful for this unexpected meeting. "I’m never going back."
She drew back a little. "Are you sure? I thought what you’re doing is important. Are you leaving a gap in the net?"
Carter turned and ran, ran as fast as he could, with her cries pleading for him to come back. But he ran and ran and ran. Until a dark cloud over the sea stopped him. Boats streamed in, out of the Arafura. Hundreds of them, disgorging refugees, fishing out the delicate breeding grounds and leaving diseased animals on shore. Others, firing guns, forced their way to the shore. Bullets whizzed by him and explosions rocked the peace of the beaches. Carter turned to look for Marilyn.
She was huddled over the bloodied blankets that had held their child. Grief bled from her eyes as she looked up at him. "Why did you let this happen?"
He dropped to his knees.
Flash, flash, flash.
One of the boots squeaked as its wearer shifted impatiently. "Well, lieutenant?"
"Component 357’s function is nominal, now, colonel."
"Good. See he stays that way. Without over-the-horizon radar, the only early warning I’ve got is these epileptics. I won’t have them waking up and breaking the net."
… soft turquoise waters gently lap his feet as he dangles them over the side of the boat. A gentle breeze cools his skin, and he sips from the cool drink in his hand. The Arafura. He narrows his eyes. Nothing must break his concentration.
END