Chapter 20
The ambulance was equipped with a satellite phone. All communications were done by way of an encrypted signal routed through several satellites and ground stations. This made all transmissions with the facility secure and untraceable. The driver turned onto I-295 as the attendant handed him the satellite phone.
“This is Portland unit one,” he said. “We are inbound with cargo. ETA is one hour, thirty minutes.”
A woman’s voice answered back.
“We copy that, Portland one. This is facility dispatch. We await the arrival of cargo for primary processing.”
Forty-five minutes later, the driver turned onto the Gold Star Memorial Highway. Edward was now being monitored with an EKG machine. An oxygen mask had been placed over his nose and mouth. The Haloperidol injection had taken effect so quickly that within roughly a minute of hitting the floor, Edward became motionless – his eyes only half closed, while his mind lay in a state of chemical non – existence. It might have been a dream come true for a mystic. But, enlightenment was not where Edward was going. On the contrary, his destination was a place that did not exist on paper. It was a place where he would spend the rest of his life in a state of conscious limbo. He would be restrained in a waking nightmare with no chance of escape.
Edward awoke to find himself lying on a stretcher in a dimly lit room. His mind was fuzzy and his vision was blurry. He tried to shake off his confusion, but the Haloperidol had not yet run its course. He tried to wipe the sweat off his face, but instead, discovered that his wrists had been tied to the side rails with canvas restraints. At this point, pulling against the restraints required more energy than Edward could muster. He raised his head and looked around the room. There were several other stretchers in the room, each occupied by someone who lay lost in a dreamless chemical sleep.
Another thirty minutes went by before his senses returned. He looked around the room again as if to confirm the reality of his surroundings. The door of the room had been left open and Edward could hear the sounds of people milling about in the hallway. He heard the sounds of conversation and equipment being wheeled by. Then, there was another sound. One that Edward found so terrifying that, even though he was lying on his back, could feel the blood leaving his head. What he heard were the screams of protest.
“You can’t do this! I have rights!” Edward continued to listen. He believed that he was hearing what may have been as an act of torture. And in that one moment, he felt as though he might be destined for the same fate.
He heard two sets of footsteps nearing the room. Putting his head back down on the stretcher, Edward closed his eyes as though still in a drug-induced sleep. He heard the rattle of wheels as another stretcher was brought into the room. Then a male voice spoke.
“This one’s going to secondary holding, but this is as good a place as any for now.”
When Edward heard their footsteps disappear down the hallway, he raised his head and looked over next to him. On this stretcher, lay a still confused young man in his mid-twenties. He gave the appearance of being slightly obese and sported short, blond hair. Edward noticed that even in the dim light, the young man’s nose bore the indentation of glasses. Edward made an attempt to get his attention.
“Hey!” he said in an almost whispered voice. “Hey! Can you hear me?”
The young man lifted his head and followed the voice.
“Where are we?” Edward asked.
The young man looked at Edward with a blank expression.
“Um…I…don’t know,” he answered.
“Do you know what they do here?” Edward asked. “I…really couldn’t say,” the young man answered. Edward sighed in frustration as two men entered the room.
“Is there any room in secondary holding?” one of the men asked.
“No, let’s just do this here,” the other man replied. The men were orderlies trained in processing and disposal. They represented the final step in the weeding out process. Officially, they were called ‘disposal technicians’.
“Hey, check this shit out,” said one of the men.
Frank was the senior technician for the unit and was known for his cruelty. He seemed to enjoy taunting those new arrivals who were being discarded by the system. Some would say that Frank enjoyed his job too much. Tony had been there for about four months. He was already to the point where he saw those entering the facility as nothing more than human-shaped meat. Frank took a folder out from between the stretchers frame and mattress. Upon opening the folder, he looked up at the young man and momentarily glanced at Tony with a slight grin.
“J.J. huh?” Frank asked. “Got a last a last name J.J.?”
Frank used his cruel streak to poke fun at the new arrivals going through secondary processing. It wasn’t just that he didn’t care. He seemed to enjoy going out of his way to let them know how worthless he thought they were.
“Um…my friends just call me J.J.,” he answered. Frank looked up at him with a smirk.
“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me!” he said.
He looked over at Tony who was trying to keep from laughing.
“This asshole doesn’t even know his name!” Tony could no longer contain himself and they both started laughing at the young man’s expense.
“Alright, alright,” Frank said.
He opened the folder and scanned the results of the young man’s screening.
“Let’s see what we’ve got,” he said. “Narcissistic personality disorder; prone to brief reactive psychosis. You’re shittin’ me! Tony, check this out – I.Q. 109. Wow! Dude, did you come to the right place!”
They both started laughing again while the young man lay on the stretcher with a puzzled look on his face. Edward continued to remain with his eyes closed, hoping to hear something that would help him figure out what was going on. Frank scanned the young man’s lab results.
“Let’s see. White count looks good. Platelets are normal.”
Then, taking his time, he looked over the results of the young man’s DNA analysis.
“Oops, what do we have here?” he said sarcastically. “Looks like you’re carrying the marker for systemic Lupus. Do you know what Lupus is, J.J.? Lupus is a disease where your body attacks itself -- nasty disease. It destroys everything. Too bad, you were so close to being a candidate.”
Now, Tony decided to chime in with his own sense of sarcasm.
“Looks like you’re socially and medically useless.”
They began snickering to each other like a pair of cartoon characters.
“O.k. Seriously, J.J. do you know what happens now?” asked Frank.
“Um…I don’t even know why I’m here,” J.J. answered.
“Oh, that’s right,” said Frank. “No one ever told you, did they?”
Edward was listening intently. Now, maybe he would find out what was going on.
“Well, that doesn’t matter. Ya see J.J., you’re not exactly of much use to us and we certainly can’t let you go. But, think about it. You’re doing the world such a huge favor. Your removal from society will make things so much better for everyone else. You’re gonna be one less arrogant douche bag that people are gonna have to deal with. Now, doesn’t that sound awesome J.J.?”
The young man was still slightly confused.
“Don’t I get to make a phone or something?” he asked.
Frank and Tony looked at each other in disbelief.
“A phone call?” Frank said.
He was still being sarcastic.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that here. And I don’t think anyone will miss you. So, here’s what we’re gonna do J.J. See that guy standing next to you? That’s Tony. And Tony has a twenty cc syringe full of Diprovan. So, since you’re not actually of use to us, it’s our job to see to it that you’re…how can I say this…properly disposed of.”
The young man still looked perplexed. Tony reached up and nudged Frank’s arm.
“He still doesn’t get it!” he said.
“Well, I don’t have time to spell it out,” Frank said. “J.J., the party’s over. I hope you believe in God because you’re gonna meet Him real soon.” He directed Tony to inject the young man through his I.V. Twenty cc’s of diprovan would be enough not only to render him unconscious but also stop his breathing. The young man would be allowed to die, placed in a body bag and moved to an industrial incinerator.
“O.k.,” Frank said. “Bag ‘em and burn ‘um.”
Tony brought out a body bag. Turning the young man on each side he slipped the zippered bag under his body. After zipping it shut, they rolled the body out of the room.
“Hey,” Frank said. “After we drop this one off let’s go get a coffee.”
“Sounds good,” Tony replied. “I could use a break.”
Edward opened his eyes and sat up. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
“Did they actually kill that person?” he thought. “Why wasn’t he ‘of use’ to them?”
More importantly, he started thinking that he might be next. Edward was trying to slip free of the restraints when he heard a single set of footsteps approaching the room. Hoping to be overlooked – and thus, buy a little time – he laid his head back down and closed his eyes. He heard the footsteps enter the room and moments later felt the weight of someone leaning on the rail of the stretcher.
“Did you know that people who get sedated with Haloperidol sleep with their eyes half open,” the unknown voice said. “So, open your eyes Edward, ‘cause we need to have a little talk.”
Edward opened his eyes and found himself looking up at a man dressed in a business suit. His hair was cut short, almost to the point of baldness and he wore a well-groomed grey goatee. He looked at Edward with patient eyes and a kind smile.
“Who the hell are you and where the fuck am I?” asked Edward.
“Well, Edward,” the man started. “That’s an excellent question.”
He grabbed the folder that had been tucked under the stretcher’s mattress and flipped through its pages.
“Mmm…I was tempted to ask ‘you’ what you were doing here,” the man said. “But, psych tests don’t lie – do they, Edward?”
He closed the folder and dropped it on the foot of the stretcher.
“O.k. Let’s start with the first part of your question. I am the administrator. As far as my name is concerned…well, what’s in a name? Now, as far as you’re concerned, I am God.”
He was given the job of administrator with the promise of a ‘comfortable’ retirement in exchange for his silence. They told him what he’d be doing, but that he would never have to get his dirty – he would never have to end a life. At first, he was very generous in his management style and would allow a few of the staff to leave early once in a while when things were slow. He wasn’t a doctor, but he did try to understand what the staff was going through, given that they worked as instruments of death. His generosity and support quickly earned him the respect and admiration of the entire staff.
One day, out of curiosity, he stood just outside the doorway of a room while a corneal harvesting was being performed at the bedside. No sooner than the cornea had been dissected away that he was seen running toward the staff bathroom, where he became violently ill. But, as he began to witness death and disembowelment on a daily basis, he started to develop something of an insulation. He would not simply detach from his emotions, but construct a place in his mind to hide from an increasingly guilty conscience. He also started to notice the difference in appearance between that of a living person and a dead body – the absence of breathing, the change in color, a coolness to the touch as well as a lack of any expression. He noticed how the flesh of the dead sagged downward and how their faces settled into a relaxed open-eyed smile. But, the man who brought kindness into the job of administrator had his limits. He started to see living as he did the dead. He started observing surgeries and made it a point to be near the bedside when the plug was pulled. And somehow, along the way, he arrived at the conclusion that those brought to the facility deserved to die. Now, his humanity became buried in the sadistic pleasure he took while watching what innocent people were put through. The respect and admiration he received during the formative months of his job had become replaced with fear, loathing, and hatred. The staff, at some point, came to the conclusion that not only had the administrator gone off the deep end, but that he could never be trusted in any sense of the word.
His smile vanished as his face took on a stern expression.
“And now for part two of your question...”
A smile returned to his face with startling suddenness.
“You are about sixty miles north of Portland near Jay. You’re four stories underground in a very unique facility. Now, officially we don’t exist. To top it off, the above-ground floors are actually an IRS processing center. So, when you come here you kinda get screwed twice. Pretty cool, huh. But, let’s get back to you. I understand that you gave one of our screeners a hard time. He seemed to think you were being pretty uncooperative. Sounds like you have a few issues you might want to talk about. I’ll bet you’d love to know what we do here, huh?” Edward looked him in the eyes.
“Did you have that guy murdered?” he asked.
“Murdered?” the administrator said. “That’s such a strong word.”
“You had him killed!” Edward yelled.
With a disturbingly calm demeanor, the administrator leaned in toward Edward’s face.
“He was a loser, a useless nobody. We did society a favor by getting rid of him. Do you know how many more of him are out there? They don’t do a thing. They’re the first in line to get their federal assistance checks and the last to step up and make a contribution.”
“And so you just kill them?!” Edward yelled back. “So where does that leave me?”
“Aw, Edward,” the administrator said. “We’re not going to do that to you.”
He paused a moment to consider his words.
“Ya know,” he said. “I think that came out the wrong way. Sure, there are lots of low-income people out there. They sell their food stamps. Spend their assistance checks on drugs… But, a few of them ‘are’ trying. They’re going to college, feeding their kids, staying out of trouble. They’re gonna make a contribution. So, really, it’s not about income or money. But, I’ll show you what I mean later. And I know what you’re thinking: how do we know the difference?”
He leaned in toward Edward with a smile.
“That’s what the screening’s for. But, I’ll show you what I mean later.”
He took a folded sheet of paper from his breast pocket and opened it.
”So, Edward,” he said. “You don’t mind if I call you, do you?”
Edward lay on the stretcher thinking only of how he might escape.
“Let’s see,” he continued. “Masters Degree in finance. You’re a banking analyst for TD AmerAsia. Oh, your wife’s a doctor. Looks like you did o.k.”
“Yeah,” Edward replied.
His anger was beginning to build again.
“So if I’m making a contribution what the fuck am I doing here?!”
“Edward, c’mon,” the administrator said. “Do we have to go over that again?”
Edward became furious.
“When I come up missing, people are gonna start looking for me! My wife knows I went to the screening center! She’ll file a report! You’ll never get away this!”
The administrator heard this all the time and gave everyone a similar response.
“Edward,” he said calmly. “No one’s gonna look for you. I guarantee it. Within the next few hours, you’ll be declared dead after your car goes up in flames someplace in the Portland war zone. Don’t believe me? Look at your left hand.”
Edward momentarily studied his left hand and discovered that his wedding band was missing. He glared back at the administrator. Edward had no words to express his outrage at the theft of his wedding band – the symbol of his bond with Ajna. “Yeah,” the administrator continued. “We needed a cover story to account for your disappearance. We have people working with us who are very good at this kind of thing. All we needed was a body and we’ve got plenty of those hangin’ around. Anyway, an accident will be reported. You’ll be found in your car, charred beyond recognition. You’ll be identified only by the wedding ring that they’ll have to cut off your finger. Your wife will grieve. She’ll collect the insurance money and eventually move on.”
He leaned in towards Edward. “Edward…we do this a lot…and we’re very good at it.”
He picked up the folder again and read the results of the psych tests.
“So, ya see Edward. We can’t have you running among civilized people. You’re a loose cannon. Someone as paranoid as you is bound to pop. But, there’s another way for you to make a contribution.”
He called Frank and Tony back into the room asking them to bring in a wheelchair.
“And now, for the million dollar question.”
The wheelchair was brought near the side of the stretcher.
“Now Edward,” the administrator said with a teasing grin. “You be good, ‘cause if you give me a hard time I’ll throw you in the incinerator myself.”
The restraints were untied and Edward was helped to a sitting position. He glanced around the room looking for anything that might help him get the upper hand. The technicians muscled him into the wheelchair and reapplied the restraints to his wrists and ankles. The administrator leaned down toward him.
“There we are,” he said. “Is that better? Those stretchers must be awfully uncomfortable after a while, huh?”
He stepped around behind the wheelchair.
“I’ll take it from here, Frank. I’m gonna give our new guest a personal tour of the unit.”
He wheeled Edward out of the room and leaned down toward him again.
“You wanted to know why you’re here, Edward? Well, now you’re gonna find out. And you’re not gonna like it.”
He knelt down at Edward’s side.
“Oh, one more thing Edward. This is a federal facility. Edward looked at him with both anger and confusion.
“Yeah,” the administrator said.
He looked at Edward with a teasing grin.
“All these people are federal agents – everyone -- the screener, the ambulance driver, the people who are – right now – staging your ‘accident’. Even the disposal technicians who took your buddy away. Did you honestly think all of this was some kind of healthcare program? Really?”
Edward was terrified. He already missed Ajna and realizing that he would never see her again brought tears to his eyes as he began to weep. The administrator stood up and squeezed Edward’s shoulder.
“C’mon Edward, it’s not all that bad.”
He spoke to Edward with an almost sarcastic degree of pity.
“Pretty soon, you’re not gonna care about anything. The world will go away and nothing will matter anymore.”
He stood back up and stepped behind the wheelchair again.
“Now, allow me to give you the nickel tour of our fine facility.”