Real Lies

My name is John. I think it's important that people know about where I grew up, so they don't make the same mistakes we did. I loved my home, but it's been a long time since I've seen it. I basically grew up in paradise. The sun would shine so bright every day, and even when it rained, it was only enough to splash around in, or water the flowers that always grew tall and beautiful. The phrase "When I grow up..." started every young child's sentence. It wasn’t unusual for children to have what you would consider unattainable goals for when they grew up. My best friend loved kids and would often say she just wanted to be a mom. Her husband was the weird bug-loving kid in class, and now he's an entomologist. Your job didn’t really matter because nobody worried about money. Everyone's home was meticulously decorated and just large enough that everyone in the family had enough room to breathe. Even people who did basically nothing for a living could still live in a large, elegant home. Everyone did. I always wondered how the world worked, and how things stayed so perfect, but it wasn’t something children would talk about. It wasn’t something even the adults really worried about, since everything was so peaceful, but I knew there had to be someone pulling the strings to keep things so perfect, and part of me wanted to pull those strings too. My parents set a great example for myself and my siblings. My father was a retired surgeon. Back when he was working, he would come home looking completely exhausted, sit in his reclining chair, and put on his glasses while we watched TV together. Nobody ever really got sick, but surgeons were often required for hearing and vision improvements when you were born. I’m sure you know babies aren’t born with very good hearing or vision, so surgeons like my dad just helped them along a little. My mother was one of his nurses when they met. My father used to brag all the time about how, even without his glasses, he could see my mother was the most beautiful one in the room. I had two siblings, a twin sister I was very close with, and an older brother I didn’t really know very well. My sister Cate was always very creative but not very bright. So, it was no surprise when we asked on her 16th birthday, that she told us she was going to choose “painting” as her job. Since then, she has painted numerous murals around the town, and even had one commissioned from the Mayor himself. When it came to a career choice, my brother Noah decided not to choose. He was always a sort of rebel. Basically, he was the only thing NOT perfect in our town. Whenever we asked what happened, my parents told us he acted “funny” for a while, then on my 6th birthday, just a few days before his 16th birthday, he left saying he was going to travel instead of work. He’d send them postcards every now and then just to let them know he was okay, but he never mentioned wanting to come home. After getting the same exact response each time we asked, we stopped asking. In the years since my brother’s “episode” as it was known around town, I tried my best not to be like him. I worked hard in school. Never questioned anything I was told. I made friends with everyone I could. And most importantly, I followed the rules. Rule #1. Go to school. Stay there until you are dismissed. Never leave early. Rule #2. Your curfew is from sunrise to sunset. Do not be out before sunrise. Do not be out after sunset. Rule #3. The daily acknowledgements are at 8 am, 12 pm, and 5 pm. (This was my favorite rule because it meant we got to watch TV during meals.) Rule#4. Watering of the gardens must be kept to a minimum of 5 minutes. Rule #5. Be happy. (This one was easy. How could we NOT be happy living in such a wonderful place?) For ten years I followed the rules perfectly and I was very happy to do it. A few weeks before my 16th birthday, my father took his glasses off and took a long hard look at me before asking me what I wanted to do with my life. “I used to think I wanted to work with the government. I wanted to make new rules. I wanted to be in charge. I wanted to know how things were so perfect all the time.” I paused, a little doubt building up in my throat. But before I could speak again, my dad just put his glasses back on and smiled. “Rules are there for a reason. You can’t change them. They are there to protect you. But if you feel there are more rules to be made, I’m sure you’ll have a hard time finding someone to disagree with you.” Four days went by, and a postcard slipped through the mail slot with a soft *dink* noise. I ran as fast as I could, almost knocking over my sister in the process. It looked just like the postcards we used to get from Noah before they stopped coming. This one had a picture of a giant mound of dirt on the front. I remember thinking about how strange that was. And on the back some very hastily written scribble. “Don’t go with them.” ~N~ “What the hell is this?” My sister said out loud before putting her hand over her mouth. We weren’t supposed to use profanity. Even the adults didn’t. There was no reason to say anything unkind to, or about, anyone or anything. It wasn’t an official “rule”, but it didn’t have to be. “I think it’s a letter from Noah,” I said. “It doesn’t look like his handwriting.” She said with a disappointed look. “Yeah but look. It’s signed with an “N”. It HAS to be him.” She shrugged her shoulders and walked away. But I stood there with the postcard in my hands, staring at it. “Hey!” I whisper-shouted to her. She looked back. “Don’t tell anyone we got this, okay?” She shrugged her shoulders again before “zipping” her lips and walking away once more. It was almost dinner time. I knew it would have come up if I hadn't said anything. We weren’t supposed to lie, it was another unwritten rule. But if I asked my sister to, she would. She called it our “twin thing”. Twins didn’t really happen where we were from, but we learned in school that sometimes twins had “powers” they could only use with each other. My sister and I weren’t twins, but sometimes it was fun to pretend. With the postcard up in my room, I could barely focus on dinner, some casserole mom made at least once a week. My father talked about his day at the hobby shop down the street. My mother talked about her day at the office. My sister and I talked about school and friends. But everyone was silent when the acknowledgements came on. We had acknowledgements three times a day. Morning acknowledgements were just going over what the day would look like. It was typically very bland. Kids will go to school, adults will go to work, babies will be born, and some people would even be exiled, sent out and away from our community to live without protection or guidance. The afternoon acknowledgments were similar. We usually watched them right before lunch because they were so short. Just some Lawmaker reminding us of the rules for going home or attending after-school activities. But the evening acknowledgements were the best. They were the longest and the most interesting. The evening acknowledgments was the President talking about the day’s news. Today he said it rained all day two towns over, so the kids were given the day off from school. A new type of flower was discovered and would be planted in our gardens over the next few days as long as applications were submitted on time. And finally, MY news: the next group of graduating teens would be picked up this week. That last part made my ears perk up. I remembered the note from my brother, “Don’t go with them.” I shook the thought from my head and asked to be excused. My father looked confused and my mother looked worried. The evening acknowledgement was my favorite part of the day, so this was very out of character for me. My mother felt my head and asked me if I was sick. I told her no, just that I was tired and wanted to go to bed. She looked to my father for his decision. He nodded his head and said, “Enjoy this while you can.” He was a man of few words, but when he spoke he expected to be heard. I smiled briefly and ran up the stairs to my room. A few more days went by and, with all the excitement of graduation coming up, I had completely forgotten about the postcard. I had finally announced to nobody’s surprise that I was going into government. I even got my acceptance letter from the Lawmakers academy the day after I announced it and ran next door to tell my best friend who had just gotten her acceptance letter to maternity school. She was always such a great friend. She was always there for me. Even the day the car came for me, she was there to hug me goodbye. It was my 16th birthday. Friends and family gathered outside our house to see me off. I walked through the huge crowd of people I had managed to get to know in ten years, every eye crying tears of joy for me in my next phase of life. Finally, it was time to say goodbye to my parents. Parents were always last when you were leaving. My mother hugged me a little too long before pulling back and looking at me with tears in her eyes and handed me off to my father. My father took off his glasses, gave me a solemn look, and a firm handshake. He never cried. With his hand still in mine, he pulled me in and hugged me. Before pulling away, he whispered, “You are very lucky, you will get to see the world in a way most people don’t.” At the time, I thought he just meant that I would travel a lot. It was common knowledge that when you chose a political or healthcare profession, you had a “long road” ahead of you. This had two meanings: learning the trade would be very difficult, and you would have to drive a VERY long way to the location where you would start training. A long black limo pulled up in front of the yard, its windows tinted so dark that it was impossible to see in, even with your face pressed against the window. Two stern looking men stepped out of the car and shook my hand. “I, uhm, I’m John.” I said, wincing a bit at the pain from the first man’s grip. But the two men said nothing. The first serious looking man opened the door to the backseat and motioned for me to get in. I waved one last time to my family and promised I would visit them on holidays. We drove in silence for almost an hour before the man in the passenger seat finally spoke. “Before you start training, you have to see the doctor.” I tried protesting, telling them I wasn’t sick. I never got sick. But they didn’t want to hear it. The man driving raised one hand to silence me. I spent the rest of the drive looking out the window at the beautiful forest we were driving through. And thinking, once again, how lucky we were to live in such a beautiful, perfect world. Finally, the car stopped. I tried to open the door, but it seemed to be locked from the outside. The serious looking man in the passenger seat opened my door and gave me the first friendly look I had seen from him. “Welcome home, John.” He said. And motioned towards a big metal door in the side of what looked like a small mountain. The first serious man was standing in front of it, typing a code on a keypad. “You’ll get your own after training.” The first man said. I nodded and followed him in while the second man walked behind me. Looking back, I never did catch either of their names. We walked through the door and into a long sloping hallway. The walls were lined with beautiful pictures, and every 20 feet or so was an ornate chandelier. The first man stopped in front of me and began tapping another code on a keypad next to the door. I could hear voices behind the doors of the various rooms lining the hallway but couldn’t make out what they were saying. The door opened with a loud whine. The room inside was stark white and pristine. A man with a kind looking face was standing next to a long exam table. Surgical tools like the ones my father used lined a tray next to the bed. "Good evening, John. My name is Dr. J." The doctor's blue eyes flashed when he smiled. "I promise to be gentle, I've gotten very good at this over the years." He looked towards the two serious men and motioned for them to leave. "I promise he will recover quickly. President Smith is in his room already. You may brief him now." With this short interaction it was clear who was the real boss here. I laid down on the table and tried to relax. The doctor hovered near the surgical tools, organizing his instruments before washing his hands. He walked back over to me and smiled before putting a mask over my mouth and nose. "Just breathe." He said. I took a deep breath, and felt my body go limp before passing out. I woke up in another bright white room. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I could see a pretty nurse sitting next to the bed rubbing my hand. She smiled when she noticed I was awake and asked how I was feeling. "Uhm" I said. My voice sounded wrong. "I feel okay I guess". The scratchy voice wasn't one I recognized. It was like someone else was speaking for me. I guess the nurse noticed a confused look on my face, because in the next moment she laughed softly and said, "the raspiness is from the breathing tube the doctor had to insert during surgery. Your voice will come back in a few days." She smiled knowingly, her dark eyes sparkling. She really was gorgeous. "Thanks." I smiled back and tried to sit up a bit. My whole body felt weak. “ Uhm, do you know how long I was out?" I asked. Not sure if I really wanted to know. She just smiled and stood to leave. On her way out she turned back to me and said "I looked at your file, it'll be great to have you with us. I do hope you decide to stay." "Ah! You're finally up! And right on time! Get dressed. You have a meeting in an hour with the President!" I blinked my eyes, they felt a little sore but not too bad. I noticed I was wearing glasses. I moved my hand to my face to take them off, but the doctor stopped me. "Don't want to go doing that yet." He said in a very serious tone. "These will protect you until you're ready to take them off," he gave me a reassuring smile and walked out of the room. I was confused but didn’t protest. He was a surgeon like my father. He was in a respected field in our community and I knew better than to argue with a man like that. I quickly got dressed and headed out of the room. The pretty nurse was walking into another room now and smiled at me as I passed her. Waiting at the end of the hallway was another serious looking man. He wore glasses just like my father. He explained that he was going to bring me to my meeting with President Smith. We walked down another long, nicely decorated hallway and stopped at a heavy-looking door. The serious looking man put in a code and motioned for me to enter. I walked in, but he didn’t follow. He just shut the door and locked it from the outside.