Ty searched the empty, dirty street frantically for the nearest register, translucent salvation. He'd never traveled this route before. Unlike the sections of Denetaron he was familiar with, the streets here were almost uninhabited. He would have taken the long way around, but his citizen-supervisor wanted the package at its destination immediately. The long way, with its convenient registers, was comfortable. It felt safe to him. This new route felt dangerous and sordid. Maybe Ty's citi-soop was a dissident. Why else would he force Ty to go through a section of town with so few registers? The more populous areas of Denetaron had registers practically every few feet. That made this section seem so ancient, barbaric, backwards ... Ty's frustration was growing.
The law about registering was so vague that a person could register as infrequently as once a week without feeling any danger. This vagueness led citizens to worry about whether or not they registered often enough. Ty was the extreme of this. He was obsessed with registering.
He briefly considered turning back to find the previous register, but he finally saw the glint of white plastic on a brick wall, partially obscured by a garbage can. He ran to the device while grasping the familiar white plastic pendant of his ID necklace. He flashed the ID in front of the register, and it graciously shone green. He tensely waited for it to turn off. When it had, he flashed his ID at the register again. Ty began to calm down, but "registered" twice more there before continuing through the city.
Alex Todd, Asst. Mntr., pushed his chair back from the desk console. "Oh, that was a great one." From the Monitors point of view, Ty's condition was humorous more than anything. His race to find a register was high comedy, it must seem so important to him. To the monitors, the registers were just a way of tormenting the Denetaron citizens. Monitors didn't need the registers to see people -- or to track them. As far as the monitors were concerned, the registers just reminded people that someone was watching. "One of the best. And he still made it on time?" he continued.
"Oh yes," Mntr. Turlough leaned forward, "Five minutes to spare ... his citi-soop called ahead and told him he wouldn't be needed for the rest of the day. You better believe he took the long way home."
"Oh, I'd imagine, a nutcase like Ty?"
Turlough thought about lighting up, but the smoke would show quite easily in the small white room. "Load up another episode, would you?"
"Sure." Alex closed the cam profile, selected another profile, and opened it. Video all over Denetaron was recorded constantly, and any second of the video's history could be retrieved at a moment's notice. The streets, the alleys, the apartments, the bedrooms. The Monitors often made profiles of video patched from all over the city to follow specific people. Cam profiles of Ty were especially popular during the monitors' off hours.
"Which one are you loading?" John asked while rubbing his pack of cigarettes.
"The one where he and his old citi-soop go on a date."
Turlough swivelled his chair a few times, "Oh, that one's a riot."
The door whisked open and Mntr. Sandy March stepped through, "What are you hooligans up to?" She asked humourously, "Watching 'The Best of Ty Neufeld'?"
"Yeah, granny," Alex joked. Monitor March actually wasn't any older than thirty-five, didn't even look that old. By some accounts she quite pretty.
"Hey, watch it, toddler. I could spank you, you know," Sandy answered, while she pretended to hold Alex over her knee and mimicked swatting Alex's butt.
"Wah wah!" Alex faked a baby's cry. "You wanna join us?" he asked, still grinning.
"Actually, I don't think Monitor March cares much for that sort of thing," Turlough said with a touch of a sneer.
Ignoring Turlough's taunt, March said, "It's a fault, I know. I'm trying to change, I should be less sympathetic. It's hard though."
"Yeah, but it's all for their own good, right?" Alex asked. He believed this to be the foundation of their society.
"It may be what's best for them, but that's hardly why we're supposed to be doing it," Sandy answered.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Alex asked, obviously confused.
No wonder he was only an assistant. "No, of course, you're right," Sandy pulled up a chair, "What episode are we watching?"
"Citi-Soop Date."
"Oh, is that new? I don't think I've seen it yet."
"It happened just about a month ago."
"Alright then, what are we waiting for?"
Alex pressed the 'play' button and the video started. The assistant had been partially right, of course. 'Some must rule and others follow, all other paths are chaos.' The idiom of the Monitors. But if the leaders care overmuch for the followers, the followers wouldn't benefit. Proper leadership thinks first for itself, or the followers become selfish, and start demanding from the leaders. When the leaders refuse to give the followers what they merely want-- not need --the leaders are overthrown and society is destroyed. How many times had history played this out?
Sandy had momentarily forgotten, again. Only she read history, as far as she could tell anyway. She supposed that it wasn't really necessary for people to read history anyway. If they were smart they would just come up with the same conclusion she had: our current society is the only one in the history of humanity which has approached perfection. If they were dumb, they might start getting ideas.
All this thinking, it wasn't really necessary. Thinking everything out was a weakness and a strength for her. She had the free time, she could enjoy herself.
Monitor's jobs were fairly easy. The citizens were quiet and peaceful, but still there had to be enough monitors to handle any emergency and it wouldn't do for the monitors to have too much free time. In such a peaceful place, sleepless eyes grow restless. The higher-ups encouraged the extra-curricular activities that the Cam Profile system offered.
John had been wrong, she did like watching Ty ... A little too much perhaps, and definitely for the wrong reason. She found Ty attractive, desirable. And not just because of his appearance. It was Ty himself, with all of his flaws, that made him so endearing. So self-conscious and at the same time so oblivious to himself.
She had considered approaching Ty, it was fairly common for Monitors to have a relationships with citizens. She just didn't think it would work out for a Monitor to befriend Ty. Why does everyone have to focus on him?
She couldn't do anything about it. She cleared her mind of these concerns and instead watched the Cam Profile intently.
The cam profile only served to confirm what she had always believed, Ty would make a wonderful boyfriend ... his old citi-soop is stupid. Ty was kind and considerate, if a little distracted by his obsession. Sure, Ty's oddities are a little annoying ... but still ...
John Turlough watched Denetaron from above. Every insignificant dot below him was a human being. That used to mean something. Vain, stupid people. As if any one person meant anything at all. He tapped a cigarette carton against his hand, and grabbed a cigarette which he lit as soon as it was between his lips.
Turlough liked "getting his hands dirty," as they used to say. He wanted to be involved, watching things from a distance wasn't much fun to him. For months he'd been thinking of good excuses to come in direct contact with Ty. To ask him questions, to torment him.
No, waiting on the sidelines to see what Ty might do next wasn't his idea of fun. The best idea he could think of was to call Ty in for a review. This was something that monitors did only rarely, most citizens were never called in for a review. However, the citizens were all aware of the possibility of a review. Most dreaded the prospect of being called before the Monitors.
Turlough completed the forms just hours ago, and now he was waiting for an answer. His first cigarette seemed to go too quickly, so he got another one.
He would love to get that sulky crybaby-- Mntr. March --involved ... She didn't like the way the Monitors focused on Ty so much. However, Turlough doubted she would give up the opportunity to come so close to Ty. If March was a part of the project, it would also lend some more weight to his argument. March was a favorite of the higher-ups.
The steel door from the stair well shuddered and screeched, and Turlough listened hard-heeled shoes walking towards him. He didn't turn around to see who was there, he was certain it was her. They would have given their permission or denial of his suggestion to Mntr. March. "Hello, Sandy," he said nervously, still not looking at her. He turned and awkwardly offered her a smoke.
Sandy took the cigarette and lighted it, thanking Turlough.
"I have approved your suggestion," Sandy said flatly. "I will be supervising your review, but I won't intervene unless I believe the subject's life is in danger. You can do whatever else you like to him."
She approved? How much power does she have? Anyway, this was almost too good to be true, "Can I use Asst. Mntr. Alex Todd during the review?"
"Yes."
"Thank you, Mntr. March," Turlough said, trying to sound professional. He turned away from the building's edge, and left Sandy on the roof.
Home. Finally. Ty shut the door behind him. Ty's apartment was the only place where he didn't have to constantly worry about registering. His apartment, like everyone else's, was wired in such a way that it acted like a "giant" register. Whenever Ty was in his apartment, he was safe.
Ty checked the wall terminal. An official "Important: Read Now" message was on the screen.
"Neufeld, Tyler. Identification #4MQ-89-JZ8L. Immediately report for review at the monitoring station at following location:"
The address listed was fairly close, Ty knew an easy route, and thanked "they" that the path had frequent ID registers.
"Neufeld, Tyler, excused from all other duties to society for a period of twenty-four hours from arrival at monitoring station."
Ty was nervous and happy all at once. It was a dangerous thing to be called for a review. However, he was confident that he had been on his best behavior ... for his entire life in fact. He was certain that they would be pleased. They have to be ...
Ty wanted to make the best impression possible, and he was still very nervous about his review. Without even thinking about it, he flashed his ID at every register on the way to the station.
There was one last register -- right beside the entrance to the station. Before Ty could register with it, a secretary opened the station door.
"Hello, Mr. Neufeld. Please come inside," she said.
To Ty she looked like a goddess, dressed all in white, with light from the station surrounding her. He followed her into the light, and heard the door swish closed behind him. The secretary led him to a small room, and locked him in. The room was all white plastic, and glowed brightly. A shelf had been built into the wall. Ty guessed that it was meant to serve as a chair, so he sat down on it.
Ty waited patiently-- and pleasantly, with correct posture --for someone to enter the room. Ty couldn't even be sure how long he had been in the room. He hadn't checked his watch for at least several minutes after he was put into the cell. He did know that it had been twenty minutes since the first time he'd checked his watch. He felt something prick him, but couldn't figure out what had hurt him. He guessed that all of the waiting might just be a test of how well he could deal with the suspense.
But, he still wondered why they said 'immediately' if they wouldn't be ready for him when he came. Then he desperately wished there was a register in the room. He hoped they would forgive him for thinking something like that.
"How much longer are you going to make him sweat it out?"
"I don't know, not much longer. Are you going to override me?"
"No. I told you I wouldn't interfere unless he was in danger of dying."
The voice came from everywhere, even inside Ty. The smooth, kind, masculine voice seemed to vibrate through the entire world, "Hello, Tyler Neufeld."
Ty couldn't see where the voice was coming from. He bobbed his head about, looking for a face to match the voice, but couldn't find one. He answered, "Yes?"
"I would like to talk to you. Ask you some questions."
The moment he'd been anticipating arrived. He was filled with terror. "Okay," he said weakly.
A previously invisible door directly in front of him slid open rapidly, opening to an even brighter room. The voice spoke again, "Come in, Ty."
As Ty walked through the door he could see a simply dressed figure occupying the room. The man-- no, no, not man... monitor! --was slim, dressed in dark gray, with short hair, and clean-shaven. Ty had never seen a monitor before. With the recognition of just what this man was, Ty became truly terrified.
Still speaking half into Ty's mind, the monitor said, "You're not going to enjoy this at all."
"Please don't hurt me, sir," Ty whimpered. The monitor grinned.
"Ty, why do you register so often?"
Ty was amazed, he didn't expect this. He stammered, unsure of how he should answer.
"I'll tell you why," John answered quickly, "you're afraid that if you don't register often enough, we'll think you're a dissident. We know you're not."
"'Everyone must register occasionally in order to aid in the proper management of society,'" Ty quoted pathetically.
Turlough ignored him, "Your problem is that you think too much of yourself. You couldn't be a danger to society if you tried.
Ty grew pale and began trembling.
"Monitors get a really big kick out of you though! We think you're the funniest thing in the world. Like how you leave your apartment and find a register after every time you take a crap. What are you thinking, I wonder? 'I should get forgiveness for producing something so hideous'?" John mocked.
"That sounds so much like religion -- doing penance for sin. Religion's all about feeling guilt, and you've got the guilt part down. I guess that makes me God, eh? It's going to keep going on like this, you know," Turlough sneered.
Ty was nearly in tears, "Why are you doing this? I was called in for a review. The message said to come to this monitoring station -- immediately -- for review. This can't be a review--"
"Tell me why it can't be a review, Ty."
"Because--" Ty looked away, embarrassed, and then back. "Because this couldn't possibly help society," Ty blurted.
"Help. Society. Heh, what a thought. Ty, as long as society continues stably, it doesn't matter what I do to you."
Ty's world seemed to fall apart. Every day of his life, he'd thought of the Monitors as being benevolent, wanting to help. He'd believed they held society together because they were good and kind. The monitor standing in front of him couldn't possibly be like that. He was too cruel, even if this was a test, it was too much.
"You know, Ty, you could be happy. You don't have to register so often, don't have to worry. You could behave like a normal person."
Happy? Ty hadn't even thought about it, never considered his life. He'd been too busy worrying about the Monitors.
"But, even if you could change, you wouldn't. I'm showing you who you are. I know you too well, nothing will change with the incredible gift I'm giving you."
Ty could see that he was right. Even now. Knowing what he knew, Ty would register in a second given the chance. It wasn't just the fear of the Monitors anymore.
"You're still so afraid of us. And you get too much pleasure out of registering. It's such a sick pleasure. The anticipation, that tense moment followed by complete calm. You love that shift, you're addicted. And you'll keep registering every few moments for the rest of your life," Turlough emphasized the last few words.
Ty wanted to go, to run. There was no escape, the monitor was right. Ty didn't want to continue like this, knowing that every moment he was being ridiculed by the very beings he was trying to please. The harder he tried, the funnier they would find it. Every day, for the rest of your life.
What choice do I have? He thought for a moment, then experienced total clarity. If he killed this monitor, surely they would execute him. That would end the cycle.
"Odd..."
"What?"
"Ty's vitals are stabilizing, he's starting to calm down."
"Let me see..."
"You know what the worst part is, Neufeld, Tyler, #4MQ-89-JZ8L?" John leaned in, "We don't need the registers to track you at all. We can see you everywhere you go. And if anybody has to ask, 'Hey, where's Ty?' all anyone has to do is do a search on your name, correlate it to your ID number, click a button, and boom! 'There he is, making his bed!' The registers, the ID tags, it's all for laughs." Turlough grew quiet, sympathetic, "Our laughs, Ty. We laugh at you. Every desperate search for a register, we're laughing."
All of Ty's thoughts focused to a single sharpened point. Swiftly, he grabbed John's head and pulled it to the floor as hard as he could.
The scene shocked Asst. Mntr. Todd, he'd never expected that any human could do such a thing. And just forget about Ty actually doing something like this. It seemed impossible that the mess of blood and hair on the clean floor could have been caused by a human. Inhuman, that's what it was. Alex had never felt this way before, he felt like he just woke up from a daydream. Alive, and suddenly. It was terrible and exciting, thrilling. Blood-- just like the stuff on the floor --rushed through his veins so fast. Pounding, pounding.
"Monitor March," Alex finally spoke, "Should we eliminate Ty?"
"No, don't be barbaric," Sandy said shortly. "We administered memory blockers, he won't remember any of this. He isn't a threat to anyone."
Yeah, that's right, his mind fogged. "Won't this make quite an episode of 'Ty'?" He whispered, "And to think we're in it."
Mntr. March doubted very much that anyone would be interested in watching Ty after they'd seen this episode. Faced with this utter reality-- Tyler Neufeld --they would shy away from him. This is what happens when you push too far. Of course, Turlough could have restrained Ty before the interview. Why didn't I think of that? Maybe I hated him more than I realised. "Yeah, I guess we're famous now," she said non-committally.
"The drug has run its course, he doesn't remember what happened."
"Good. Read this over the intercom," Sandy said, handing Alex a slip of paper.
Alex clicked a button, "Neufeld. Ty. The monitors find your performance satisfactory. You may return home, you are released from further civic duties for the next twenty-four hours."
Satisfactory... Ty had done satisfactorily. He was proud, how many people could say the monitors thought they were alright? He felt so happy. Relieved.
But satisfactory means they think I can do better, Ty's joy subsided. I can do better, and I will. Ty realised he hadn't registered recently.
Where's the next register?! He spotted it and rushed over, clutching his ID. He swished his ID in front of the register, which glowed green for a moment. Relieved, Ty looked for the next register.
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