Energized Manuscript

It was a pleasant day. The autumn air was crisp and the breeze smelled clean. Syn decided to walk so she would have some time to think through how to approach Cotard. She’d take a half-hour to walk from Tompkins Square Park to CLAW headquarters. Syn thought she’d use the time to figure out a graceful way of asking someone whether they were over 300 years old.

“Can I ask you something personal?” Great opener, but it doesn’t really get me anywhere, she thought. I still have to get around to asking the hard stuff.

“What was it like before America failed?” No, too much innuendo.

“Willem, how old are you anyway?” Nope, too direct.

She wondered how she was ever going to confront this big and intimidating man.

Syn needed to think and even the soft electrical hum of the trams running along the avenue was a distraction. She zigzagged her way a few blocks west to a narrow stretch of park. When Syn looked up, the tightly-packed buildings surrounding her seemed to be leaning in. She bowed her head as she walked, having the feeling that invisible spectators were observing her from above.

She exited the park on Canal Street, rejoining the hustle of the City. Less than ten minutes later, Syn arrived at the Tombs. Syn knew that this building had served as a detention facility in the City for centuries. That fact, no doubt learned from Professor Cotard himself, lent to her sense of dark innuendo in the building’s façade. It made Syn realize a subtler approach with Professor Cotard would be better; there is enough trauma in this building.

Syn walked through the lobby, the soft and spongy heels of her hiking shoes making no sound as she walked across the granite floor. The effect of the silence made her feel like a ghost in this haunting place. She felt the weight of the vast and depressing silence under the artificial lighting.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes,” and a stern look was all the greeting she got from the matron behind the reception desk.

“I am here to visit…”

The desk sergeant interrupted, “You will need to complete the questionnaire and be scanned.” Syn stood there waiting. A thick and crooked finger pointed toward a row of cubicles across the floor. “Over there.”

Syn selected a desk that didn’t look too decrepit and sat down. She tapped the e-pad to wake it up and began answering questions. After she entered her name, most of the answers to the questions about who she is and what she does were automatically filled in; it is creepy how much information CLAW has at their instant disposal. However, she still had to answer the questions meant to test her commitment to the City and its policies.

Have you offered your will freely to the Behavioral Adjustment Team (BAT) for the good of the City? “Yes.”

Do you accept the guidance of Citizenry Life and Welfare (CLAW) officers without question? “Yes.”

Do you trust the World Assembly of Governors (WAGs) keep aggressive forces from the City? “Yes.”

Then, there were the questions about personal behavior.

Have you or has anyone in your family ever been treated by a physician for a non-musculoskeletal malady? “No.”

Do you believe in death with dignity? “Yes.”

Syn wondered out loud, “Why do they ask us these dopey questions?” The sound of her own voice startled her. The Tombs is that kind of place. “You’d have to be out of your mind to give a wrong answer.” Then, it occurred to her that was probably the reason, so they could find the crazy ones and recondition them.

Syn submitted her form and walked through the scanning tube. On the other side, she was issued a visitor sensor and escorted to the elevator banks. Just at the entrance, there was a warning sign.

Visitors who exhibit undesirable behaviors may be referred to the Behavioral Architecture Team. Dignity in all things.

The elevator rose quickly and quietly to the fifth floor. The doors opened directly into another reception area that looked much like the one in the lobby only smaller and sadder. At least the feeling of vast loneliness she experienced in the lobby was gone; insignificance and despair had taken its place.

Syn submitted her visitor pass for the formalities of rechecking her credentials and was escorted down a dimly lit hallway and into a common area. Small, barred windows let in a nominal amount of light, throwing half-hearted shadows onto the pink walls.

“Wait, what? Pink walls?”

“Takes a moment to get used to, but it’s a calming color, don’t you think?”

There in a corner sat Willem Cotard, looking for all the world as if he’d rather be sitting anywhere else. At least anywhere else where one of his students couldn’t come visit him.

“Professor, how are you? Wait, dumb question! You look, um well.”

“Shaky, sweaty, pale, generally like I am going to die at any moment?”

“Um.” She was having trouble collecting herself and this certainly was not going at all like she had planned.

“Don’t worry, I am not going to die. That’s the last thing that I’ll do, I promise you that.” He chuckled. “Get it? I made a joke; dying is the last thing.”

“Yeah, very funny, professor, but I’m worried about you. This is no joke. You’ve always been supportive of me and I want to be here for you now. But, I need to ask you a few questions first, and I want you to be straight with me.”

Syn recapped her latest trip to the exurbs. She told Cotard that she found his picture in an old book, a very old book. Eventually, she came around to the point.

“But professor, the book has your picture in it and that’s impossible because it would make you at least 350 years old!”

“Syn, forget the book. Maybe, I don’t know, the picture is of an ancestor of mine. But, it doesn’t matter. Leave it alone. In fact, leave me alone.”

Syn leaned forward in her chair and stared at Willem. “Professor, the name of the book is A Study in Anti-aging and the Emergence of Senolytics.”

“Sounds like the ravings of a crackpot. Just go start your BAT training and give up all of your messing around in the Exurbs trying to figure out history. History is a mess; teaching too much of it is what landed me in this place.”

Syn stood up, and leaned across the table. “I just need to make sense of it all. I have to understand and I am going to.”

“What do you think will happen to you if you keep at it?” Cotard was getting irritated now, Syn could see. But it didn’t seem like he was really mad at her. It was more like he had something else on his mind.

Cotard continued, like he was delivering a lesson. “The only thing that matters is the here and now. You know the story. The lunatic president, Dunning, and his sycophantic attorney general, Jeffery Kruger, brought the United States to ruin. Smart, renaissance thinkers picked up the pieces and created cities.”

“Professor, you’re right, I know this stuff. What’s it got to do with you being 350?”

“I am not 350; don’t be ridiculous. The point is, the people who built the cities are prepared to defend them at all costs. You shouldn’t test that theory.” Willem seemed sincere, but Syn was adamant. She knew she had to help fix this, but didn’t know how.

They were at an impasse and feeling the strain of the conversation. As if on cue, a CLAW guard knocked on the door and made a motion indicating that the visit had come to an end.

Syn caught Professor Cotard’s stare as she turned to walk out the door. She had only questions but, for now, could ask no more. She let out a deflated sigh and followed the guard out of the room.

It was a frustratingly long walk back to Tomkins Square Park. Syn was deep in thought and moving on autopilot. Even though she felt like screaming or throwing something through a window, subconsciously, she knew she couldn't. The cameras on the corners and the drones high above would be keeping a particular watch on anyone having just visited the Tombs. Anything unusual on her part, Syn knew, would look bad for Professor Cotard.

That was the heart of things for Syn now. She didn't want to create more problems; she wanted to fix things. But she couldn’t think of a way to do that without knowing the truth. If she could only understand what was going on.

"For once," she thought, "I might do some good instead of wrecking everything."

"But, what if I screw it up? What if I learn the truth and it turns out to be bad for the professor? He could be executed. How many deaths do I need to be responsible for in my life, dammit?"

The thoughts were coming in waves, first to help her mentor and then to stay out it so she wouldn't make matters worse. It was a knock-down, drag-out shouting match going on in her head and Syn didn't even realize she was providing play-by-play out loud while she walked.

"SYN! SYN!" Syn snapped out of her stupor with the sound of her name being shouted from out under a cluster of elm trees.

Amelia walked briskly toward Syn, alertly looking around to see if anyone had noticed her friend’s strange behavior. She took Syn by the arm, escorting her quickly out of sight under the canopy of trees.

“You were mumbling to yourself, something about not wanting to do it again. Do what again? What were you talking about? Are you alright?”

Amelia’s rapid-fire questions brought Syn around and she noticed that, without realizing it, she had walked to her favorite spot in the park, the Temperance Fountain. Syn and her friends often used this location as a meeting spot. The fountain was topped by a statue of Hebe, the cup bearer for the Greek gods and servant of Venus, the goddess of love. Its lintel was emblazoned with the words Faith, Hope, Charity and Temperance. Syn sometimes pondered the dichotomy between the indulgent statue above and the word, Temperance. Today, however, she paid it no mind.

“Yeah, yes, I’m fine. It’s nothing.” Syn finally managed to collect herself and say something back to Amelia’s look of concern. “It’s just that I visited Professor Cotard and he doesn’t seem to be doing too well.”

“So what, you were mumbling that you weren’t going to see him again? Doesn’t sound like you to just give up on your favorite teacher.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s, never mind. I’m struggling with what I want to do next is all.”

Amelia took a furtive glance around and almost inaudibly said, “Did you ask him about the book?” Syn replied with a single nod of her head.

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“So is that it; you still don’t know what any of it means?”

“That and I don’t want to stir up any trouble for the professor.”

“You know, there’s a BAT tour coming up, being run by University Recruiting.”

“So?”

“So, George tells me that he remembers his BAT tour and during part of it students get to peruse their archive. Most kids just go trolling for anything they can use to blackmail their parents or to get the inside scoop on the person they want to date. Nobody said we couldn’t use the time for a little bit more focused research.”

After classes the next day, Syn went to the University Recruiting office and signed her and Amelia up for the next tour of the Behavioral Adjustment Team headquarters tour.

Original Manuscript

It was a sunny and pleasant day; the autumn air was crisp and Syn decided to walk so she would have some time to think through how she should approach Cotard. From Tompkins Square Park to CLAW headquarters should take about a half hour. She thought that was enough time to figure out a graceful way of asking someone whether they were over 300 years old.

“Can I ask you something personal?” That’s great for an opener, but it doesn’t really get me anywhere, she thought. I still have to get around to asking the hard stuff.

“What was it like before America failed?” No, that has too much innuendo.

“Willem, how old are you anyway?” Nope, too direct.

How was she ever going to confront this man? He is big and intimidating, and he is a grown up!

As she approached the corner of White and Centre streets, the non-descript and humorlessly brown building, still known as the Tombs, glowered in front of her. This building has too much in the way of dark innuendo and what happens here is too direct, too real. It made her think that a subtler approach would be better; there is enough trauma in this building. She decided to keep things at an academic level and simply ask him about history. After all, he is, or maybe was, her teacher.

Syn walked through the lobby, her soft and spongy heels making no sound as she walked across the granite floor. The effect of the silence made her feel like a ghost in this haunting place. The humorless outer façade of the building became vast and depressing in the silence under the artificial lighting.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes.” This was all the greeting she got from the stern looking matron behind the reception desk. Not really a cheery lot, the CLAW officers. Suppose this one would rather be out and about menacingly eyeing people rather than sitting behind this desk and letting the building do all the intimidating.

“I am here to visit…”

The desk sergeant interrupted, “You will need to complete the questionnaire and be scanned.” Syn stood there waiting. A thick and crooked finger pointed toward a row of cubicles across the floor. “Over there.”

Syn selected a desk that didn’t look too decrepit and sat down. She tapped the e-pad to wake it up and began answering questions. After she entered her name, most of the answers to the questions about who she is and what she does were automatically filled in; it is creepy how much information CLAW has at their instant disposal. However, she still had to answer the questions meant to test her commitment to the City.

“Have you offered your will freely to the Behavioral Adjustment Team (BAT) for the good of the City?” Yes.

“Do you accept the guidance of Citizenry Life and Welfare (CLAW) officers without question?” Yes.

“Do you trust the World Assembly of Governors (WAGs) keep aggressive forces from the City?” Yes.

Then, there were the questions about personal behavior.

“Have you or has anyone in your family ever been treated by a physician for a non-musculoskeletal malady?” No.

“Do you believe in death with dignity?” Yes.

Syn wondered out loud, “Why do they ask us these dopey questions? You’d have to be out of your mind to give a wrong answer.” Then, it occurred to her that was probably the reason, so that they could find the crazy ones and recondition them.

Syn submitted her form and subjected herself to a body scan. She was issued a visitor sensor and escorted to the elevator banks. Just at the entrance, there was a warning sign.

Visitors who exhibit undesirable behaviors may be referred to the Behavioral Architecture Team. Dignity in all things.

She was taken to the fifth floor. The elevator door opened directly into another reception area that looked much like the one in the lobby only a smaller and sadder version. At least the feeling of vast loneliness she experienced in the lobby was gone; insignificance and despair had taken its place.

After going through the formalities of rechecking her credentials, Syn was escorted through the reception area, down a dimly lit hallway and into a common area. Small, barred windows let in a nominal amount of light, throwing half-hearted shadows onto the pink walls.

“Wait, what? Pink walls?”

“Takes a moment to get used to, but it’s a calming color, don’t you think?”

There in a corner sat Willem Cotard, looking for all the world as if he’d rather be sitting anywhere else. At least anywhere else where one of his students couldn’t come visit him.

“Professor, how are you? Wait, that’s a dumb question. You look, um well.”

“Shaky, sweaty, pale, generally like I am going to die at any moment?”

“Um.” She was having trouble collecting herself and this certainly was not going at all like she had planned on her walk over here.

“Don’t worry, I am not going to die. That is the last thing that I’ll do, I promise you that.” He chuckled. “Did you get that, I made a joke; dying is the last thing.”

“Very funny, professor, but I’m worried about you. You’ve always been supportive of me and have always made time to listen to my problems. I want to be here for you now. But, I need to ask you a few questions first, and I want you to be straight with me.”

Syn recapped her latest trip to the exurbs. She told him that she found is picture in an old book, a very old book.

She came to the point. “But professor, the book has your picture in it and that’s impossible because it would make you at least 350 years old!”

“Syn, look I’ve asked you to leave this alone. Forget the book. Maybe, I don’t know, the picture is of an ancestor of mine. But, it doesn’t matter.”

Syn leaned forward in her chair and stared at Willem. “Professor, the name of the book is A Study in Anti-aging and the Emergence of Senolytics.”

“Sounds like the ravings of a crackpot. Just move on. Go start your BAT training and give up all of your messing around in the Exurbs trying to figure out history. History is a mess; teaching too much of it is what landed me in this place. What do you think will happen to you if you keep at it?” Cotard was getting irritated now, but he knew it wasn’t really because of Syn’s questions. He had other more personal concerns.

“I just need to make sense of it all. I have to understand and I am going to.”

“None of it makes any sense. The United States imploded under the weight of the lunatic president Dunning and his sycophantic attorney general, Jeffery Kruger. Smart, renaissance thinkers picked up the pieces and created cities. Then, they defended those cities. They will defend them against internal threats as well as external. You need to be careful. You need to just get on with your life.” He wasn’t being a martyr; Willem really cared about Syn and didn’t want to see her dragged into his mess.

There was a pause in the conversation, as Syn and Willem realized they were at an impasse and that each was just as determined as the other to do what they thought was necessary. They also were feeling the strain of the conversation. As if on cue, a CLAW guard knocked on the door and made a motion indicating that the visit had come to an end.

As Syn turned to walk out the door, she met Cotard’s stare. She had no answers, only more questions, but there was nothing more that could be said. Frustrated, but not wanting to say or do anything she would regret, Syn turned away, deflated, and followed the guard out of the room.

It was a frustratingly long walk back to Tomkins Square Park. Syn was deep in thought and moving on autopilot. Even though she felt like screaming or throwing something through a window, subconsciously, she knew she couldn't. The cameras on the corners and the drones high above her would be keeping a steady watch on her and on anyone else walking the streets. Any disruptive or unusual behaviors would be researched and, in Syn's case, they would lead back to Professor Cotard. He was in enough trouble already and Syn did not want to cause anymore.

That was the heart of things for Syn now. She didn't want to create more of a problem for Cotard, but she was determined to get to the truth of things. If she could do that, she might be able to help him.

"For once," she thought, "I might do some good instead of wrecking everything."

"But, what if i do screw it up? What if I learn the truth and it turns out to be bad for Professor Cotard? He could be executed. How many deaths do i need to be responsible for in my life, dammit?"

The thoughts kept coming, first to help her mentor and then to stay out it so she wouldn't make matters worse. What to do? It was a knock down, drag out shouting match in her head and Syn didn't even realize she was providing play-by-play out loud while she walked.

"SYN! SYN!" Syn snapped out of her stupor with the sound of her name being shouted from out under a cluster of elm trees.

Amelia walked briskly up to Syn and took her arm, escorting her quickly out of sight under the canopy of trees.

“You were mumbling to yourself, something about not wanting to do it again. Do what again? What were you talking about? Are you alright?”

Amelia’s rapid-fire questions brought Syn around and she realized that, without realizing it, she had walked to her favorite spot in the park, the Temperance Fountain. The fountain had been there since the 1890s; Syn and her small collection of friends often used this location as a meeting spot. The fountain was topped by a statue of Hebe, the cup bearer for the Greek gods and servant of Venus, the goddess of love. Its lintel was emblazoned with the words Faith, Hope, Charity and Temperance. Whenever Syn noticed the inscriptions, she felt reminded to work harder toward living up to the weight of them. Considering how her faith has been shaken, her hopes dashed and her feelings toward charitable acts in serious turmoil, it was all-in-all a good thing that she was staring blankly at Amelia and hadn’t notice them.

“Yeah, yes, I’m fine. It’s nothing.” Syn finally managed to collect herself and say something back to Amelia’s look of concern. “It’s just that I visited Professor Cotard just now and he doesn’t seem to be doing too well.”

“So what, you were mumbling that you weren’t going to see him again? Doesn’t sound like you to just give up on your favorite teacher.”

“No, it’s not that. Just never mind about it. But, I am struggling with what to do next.”

Amelia took a furtive glance around and almost inaudibly said, “Did you ask him about the book?” Syn replied with a single nod of her head.

“Anything?”

“No, nothing.”

“So is that what you’re struggling with; you don’t know where to go next for more information?”

“That and I don’t want to stir any trouble up for the professor.”

“You know, there is a BAT tour coming up, being run by University Recruiting.”

“So?”

“So, George tells me that he remembers his BAT tour and that part of it is that students get to puruse through their archive. Most kids just go trolling for anything they can use to blackmail their parents or to get the inside scoop on the person they want to date. Nobody said we couldn’t use the time for a little bit more focused research.”

After classes the next day, Syn went to the University Recruiting office and signed her and Amelia up for the next tour of the Behavioral Adjustment Team headquarters tour.

Rick Sonntag

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