Part 3 of old crap writing.
This is a Sci-Fi bit I did for class. It doesn’t have the best logic in afterthought.
Part 3: A Meeting of Two Minds
The men stood in the hallway in front of a sealed door. They varied in age, but shared an air of excitement as if children again. Soft mutterings spread between them rapidly as they waited for the door to open. All but one man joined in the exchanges, and he could barely be called a man. A boy of sixteen years resided in the back of the group and leaned against the wall. He flipped through a folder of papers. His pensive blue eyes scanned the words that he knew all too well. Others were looking through their folders together and discussing its context as if it held importance.
It held no such thing of course, just the details of a lengthy experiment that would prove useless like the many others. The other men knew this as well. They had simply put on the act of caring about the experiment as if it was important. Already, they started talking about the rest of the day’s viewings. Most agreed that the later ones were better and wished they could dart through the early part of the tour. The younger man disagreed. Then again, he cared little about the whole tour. Even though he looked as if he was part of the group, all ten of them wearing black lab coats, his mind worked in a different way. He pulled a stray strand of blond hair behind his ear and then went to leaf through the familiar pages.
The first thing he noted was that the reports were edited. He had come across the real ones early in his college life during a research paper. The papers, then, had caused such a stir in him, that he illegally photocopied them before the Text Keepers wanted them back. For years he had been studying his own copy, and now he could see the experiment for himself. He stopped on the page that summarized ’achievements’ that have happened in the experiment and, in his head.
A low-ranked child was taken and put into a simulated, computerized life. Why? It was to prove that low-ranks were lesser beings than high-ranks. The government wanted to justify themselves. The young man thought it was wrong. Just because logic and maximizing the human mind has became law, did not mean what the government should get away with this. They may control if you work in the labs or in the sweat shops, but does not mean they control your mind. Jason, the young man, wished that he hadn’t passed the gene IQ test when he was a baby. That way, he would be suffering instead of causing others to suffer.
He closed his folder, slamming the achievement page out of sight, and looked at the black domes that lined all the walls of the hallway. He knew they were being scanned and watched. The young man smiled and walked over to another person to talk, or more so, to look normal. Jason was, it seemed in the files he hacked into, the pride of his class in the eye of the College. Early on he had proven he was indeed smart, way behind the normal accepted IQ that got to work in the labs. But, they had feared that he would be lost to a useless ‘human emotion’. Jason was smart though and faked getting over his mother’s death with no problem. In truth, he hated everyone he worked with because of that ‘human emotion’. It was easy to fake to those who think they are the prime rulers of the human development.
The doors opened.
Jason scanned the room they had walked into, and saw the man he had read so much about. The man, who lay on the table as if asleep, was hooked up to all kinds of computers. The men that had joined Jason, except the one that was the guide, gathered near the computers. Questions were thrown around and comments were made, all of them trying to show their knowledge to the one that would decide their jobs. The young man, though, stayed near the door and observed everything about him. His eyes fall upon the screen that hung on the far wall, and what looked like a movie was playing on it. He stepped forward some as he got drawn into the real magic of this experiment.
The character of the movie seemed upset, disturbed, and was pacing around the living room. His hands grabbed his hair as he tried to calm down, or maybe he was trying to redirect what was bothering him. What looked like a normal living room was slowly ruined as the character started to overturn his couch and knock down a picture from the wall. Jason could only watch in mild awe at the scene and barely noticed when the other men started to watch as well. A wave of talking started based off the character’s actions. One man asked, “Why is he doing this?” The guide answered, “He is somewhat unstable sometimes. He’s a writer you see. He scored low on the gene IQ. It proves that he grew up as we predicted, useless in the development to a better race.”
As the guide spoke, the character on the screen began searching through drawers. A pen was gripped tightly in one hand, and it could be assumed he was looking for paper. The men no longer watched, making some more comments on the equipment. Soon the guide began to lead them to the next room, but Jason raised his hand while clearing his throat some.
The guide nodded for him to speak. “I want to be a part of the study here.” Unlike the others, Jason had a choice – he had the highest test scores among them.
The guide looked at him strangely, for why would a high ranked want to work in the old-time experiment? Most wanted to be in more ground breaking work. But – the guide had no say. “Of course, I’ll send someone in for the paper work. Wait here. Let’s go everyone.”
He waited until they all left and turned to the man on the table. The one with all the equipment attached to him, the one who was the subject of this experiment, and the one who was on the screen now. Jason spoke softly, barely able to even hear himself, his thoughts. “They took a low ranked baby, and placed him in a holo-world for life. Hoping to gain what? I remember, what you said back then. I know why you write.”
Jason knew this man, the character on the screen, and now he was alone with him. His name was Danny and Jason had read all the files on him. In that library, doing his research paper, Jason had run across one page of Danny’s files that shook his peace. The writer had written a simple quote. “I rather die knowing the truths of life than live knowing only lies.” Jason knew the truths, yet he wished to live without them. He wanted to talk to the man that had the opposite wish.
Jason picked up the headset.
Danny slammed the notebook on the table and started to write quickly. The soft wave of voices in his head had returned. It drove him nuts, his whole life, there had been those voices. He lived alone, because everyone in his life seemed fake – but those voices. Was he nuts? He didn’t know, but he wrote and wrote – trying to find peace among his rambles. Even after silence had found his mind, he continued to write.
“Do you want to know the truth?”