Detour from Normal (12 page)

Finally, the most horrific vision of all played steadily before my eyes: I was upside down and naked with my hands and feet bound to rough-hewn wooden poles buried in the earth. My clothes lay shredded and strewn on the ground beneath me. Men with black hoods covering their faces and wielding a large, two-man tree saw commenced sawing my body in half, beginning with my genitals.
It doesn't matter; nothing matters.
The ghost of me let out a blood-curdling scream as the blade cut through my genitals and penetrated my pelvic bone.
It doesn't matter; nothing matters.
A crowd of relatives, friends, and strangers who had been laughing, jeering, cursing, and throwing garbage at my body now cheered in unison with each stroke.
It doesn't matter; nothing matters. It doesn't matter; nothing matters.
With a hiss of air brakes and a groan of
steel wheels against rails, the big machine ground to a halt and my mind became still. A feeling of peace and serenity overcame me.

I lay there breathing heavily, sweating and exhausted. That moment changed me forever. It was sometime after midnight on May 20, a day I will always remember in wonder. As I lay in bed, mystified by what had happened and trying to deduce the purpose, a thought filled my mind:
negative emotions are the source of all dysfunction.
I pondered that for a time, and the liquid thought began to crystallize. If emotions such as guilt, shame, hatred, jealousy, confusion, and anxiety—all the negative emotions—were removed, there would be no more dysfunction. There would be no mental illness. I had my answer to what was wrong with the people in Pinecrest and in similar institutions throughout the world. The big machine had provided it to me.

There was another outcome of my once-in-a-lifetime interactive session with the mysterious big machine: my own negative emotions were gone. I didn't need to be tested to confirm it; I just knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. In any case I was about to experience life without negative emotions for real. If there was any doubt, it would soon be gone.

Chapter 9

UTOPIA: DREAMING

After my encounter with the big machine, I had a dream. I was flying, not like a bird, but flying just the same. I was moving along at a pretty decent clip, and my shadow looked like a ragged varmint skittering across the bristled tops of the pine trees a thousand feet below, doing its best to escape an unseen predator. As I moved silently through the air, I reached out to feel if anything was there and my fingers met resistance. The harder I pressed, the more the air pressed back. I was surrounded by an invisible and silent flying machine made of air, flying to an unknown destination.

As I flew I could smell the clean, refreshing air of summer alpine meadows. Mountain peaks began to spring into view as I continued. The last snows of winter were still visible on some of the peaks like dollops of whipped cream, and the clear sky was a deep, crystalline blue. Abruptly my invisible craft slowed and then dropped, slipping cleanly through the trees to the ground. It settled down without the slightest bump and was gone, leaving me standing in lush grass, well groomed despite showing no evidence of human attention. I reached down and felt the grass. It was strong and thick yet possessed a cool softness. It seemed perfectly content growing in the shade of the tall pines where
grass normally didn't grow. There were no pine needles to be seen and no pine cones, though a few dotted the trees as if they were an artist's afterthought.

Suddenly the ground rose smoothly into the air in front of me. It hovered there like a flying carpet of green, waiting for me to hop on. Then a small, sleek, silver-and-gold vehicle rose beneath it on an invisible platform. It was a two-passenger vehicle reminiscent of a Polaris ATV. There was evidence of removable doors and a top, which were currently off. A young couple seated in the vehicle smiled and waved at me. As the little car became level with the ground, it emitted a slight whine and then accelerated smoothly across the invisible surface onto the grass. I noticed that on the back it said "Polaris" on the left and "Orion EV" on the right.

The couple climbed out, then walked over and greeted me. "Hey, Ken Dickson, how are you doing, buddy? We heard you might be coming by but weren't exactly sure when," the man said. He turned away for a second and spoke softly, as if he were letting someone know I had arrived, and then he turned back to me. "I'm Roy, and this is Kathy," he said.

"Do I know you?" I asked uncertainly.

"Yes, you certainly do, but I'll let you figure it out. Hey, you wanna see our digs?"

"Sure, but first I wanted to ask how that grass is floating in the air. As a matter of fact, how was I floating in the air?"

"Can't give you an exact answer on those questions, buddy. That's someone else's passion. In any case we use it for everything here. I call it a rain curtain on my garage. People call it different things depending on how they use it. The thing you flew in on, I call it an airplane. Get it? It's
made of air." He chuckled to himself. "It has a lot of great uses as you'll find out: keeps the weather from getting into our place when we crank the garage door up, among other things. Of course, nowadays the weather is pretty controlled: it's on a schedule here at least, so it's not as necessary as it was when we first got this place up and running. Come on in," he said, beckoning me onto the invisible platform. I was hesitant at first. It seemed as if I was about to step into a ten-foot-deep hole, and it played games with my mind. I tentatively tested the invisible surface with my foot and felt resistance. I tentatively joined them on the platform, and it began a smooth descent toward the floor below. As we neared the floor, lights automatically illuminated the area and the ground locked into place above us.

The living space was small but comfortable. There were no walls aside from those around the perimeter, just supports between the floor and ceiling. The floor looked solid but was soft when I walked on it. I lifted my foot and it left no impression. There was a warm, natural glow to the lighting.

"Check this out," said Roy. The area around us came alive with the sights of the forest. "That's a live view of the forest above us."

It was beyond TV or projection screens—we were literally in the forest that was right above us with the Orion sitting on one side.

"We can crank this whole room up like the garage if we feel like a real outdoors experience, but you can't do this in that case," he said. The view changed to that of a beach, with all the accompanying sounds of crashing surf and seagulls. "There are thousands of live feeds and simulated ones too that are just as real. Of course, this is just one of the models. Most people aren't really into this kind of thing anymore. They're either with family or friends or involved in their passions. There's not really anything like TV or movies either. The people that have those
passions live them out for real. There isn't any news per se anymore because of how the world is, and you know how that is, buddy." He peered at me and poked me on the forehead.

"Ow!" I exclaimed, stepping back and rubbing my forehead.

"You know how that is because that's how
you
are," said Roy. "But keep the faith and keep dreaming, buddy, or none of this will happen, and we don't want that, do we?" he said, smiling at his wife.

Suddenly it dawned on me. "I know who you are—you're Skip, the dune buggy guy," I exclaimed. He and his wife were at least thirty years younger, and he'd lost his handlebar mustache, gray hair, and wire rimmed glasses. He more closely resembled his son than himself, but I was sure of it. Skip was helping me build a sand rail back in my world.

"Bingo!" he exclaimed, a big grin on his face. It occurred to me that it was probably a grin I would have seen a lot if my Skip hadn't had that mustache. "How did you get so young?" I asked.

"That's the million-dollar question. Let's just say in this world anything and everything is possible. That's all I'm gonna say or I'll spoil the surprise," he said.

I kept quiet and let him conduct the tour. There was a large, simple bed in one area—no fancy headboard or anything—a stand-alone shower, which I guessed had its own rain curtain, and a toilet. There was no mirror or obvious medicine chest. There was a kitchen area with a small pantry; a refrigerator, or at least something that looked like one; a stove with what might have been an oven; and some counter space. That was about it. There were no knick-knacks, collectibles, or artwork. "Sure is a lot smaller than your old house," I said.

"Yeah, things are different here. You're really not of a mind to collect stuff, and like I said, you're either with friends or family, or working
on your passion with others who have the same passion, and there are places for that. So we pretty much just sleep here and maybe eat if we aren't eating out somewhere," Roy said.

"What's behind that door?" I asked, pointing to a large door that appeared to be an entrance into the dwelling.

"Everything. Everything and everyone," he said. "You just gotta think it all out, buddy."

I wasn't very satisfied with that answer, imagining there were other homes, people, and perhaps more on the other side of that door, but replied, "OK, I'll work on that."

"You do that," he said with another grin.

"Hey, I was wondering about the Orion. Is that really a Polaris?"

"Well, you know how I used to work on all that sand rail and buggy stuff? I just can't get that passion out of my system, so that's what I do now. Polaris used to be a company, but now it's a community, like here, only it's a manufacturing community of people like me. There are people who live and work there—people who really gotta be hands on—and there are people like me: satellites, who work on designs remotely. The Orion is kind of an antique by today's standards, but it was one of the first electric buggies I worked on, so I got one. Been driving it ever since. Most people here don't drive, but there are a few old-timers like me who still like to feel the wind in their faces."

With that, I sensed the tour was over. "Well, I don't want to hold you guys up. I can see that you were off somewhere when I arrived. What's next on my agenda?" I asked.

"Well, I suggest you use your wings and find out."

"Uh, OK," I said. The three of us walked over to the open area of the dwelling, and suddenly we were moving upward. "That's just freaky," I
said as I looked down and watched the room drop away. "How do you do that? How do you make everything work?" I asked. Everything seemed to happen automatically.

"Like I said, anything and everything is possible," Roy answered.

As the platform—or should I say air form—stopped smoothly at ground level, I stepped off and offered my hand to Roy. He shook it briskly. "Good to see you again," I said. "I almost have that old sand rail that you were helping me with running, you know."

"That old thing? Feels like a lifetime ago. Well, you have fun with that and keep the old me posted on how it's going. I had a lot of fun working on that buggy with you. We'll be seeing you around, buddy. Keep the faith. We need you."

I turned to Kathy and hugged her. Though I remembered little of her from my old life, I had to admit that she was a fine-looking woman in this place and time. "I hope I'll look as great as you two someday," I said.

"Maybe you will," Roy said, and they both got in the little car. As they were about to depart, Roy turned and added, "Now would be the time to try those wings again. We'll see you at the party."

I waved as they drove off, wondering what he meant. As they drove smoothly through the forest, I couldn't help but notice that all the trees were spaced in such a way that they could drive anywhere. It couldn't have been a coincidence.

I had no idea what to do next, so I sat down in the lush grass and started thinking about flying above the forest and the beautiful views. Suddenly I was sitting cross-legged, flying in the air. I lay back and put my hands behind my head. I was on autopilot once more, and the trees whipped silently below me until they thinned and were replaced
by green fields. Cattle, pigs, goats, chickens, turkeys, and even a few horses roamed freely. There was equipment that I supposed was farm equipment. There were areas where I expected greenhouses, but instead there were only vegetable gardens—I wondered if they were protected by invisible greenhouses made of air. Beyond the fields were rows of solar panels and small wind turbines, which spun rapidly in the wind. Apparently these were the sources of food and power for this place.

My airplane banked sharply and carried me back over the pines again. It soon began to slow, and as it did so, the trees unexpectedly ended, revealing a beautiful alpine meadow next to a pristine lake. The lake was dotted with sailing vessels and powerboats of all shapes and sizes, some pulling skiers, wakeboarders, or children on brightly colored tubes. On the distant snowcapped mountains were ski runs, but I could make out no lifts. It appeared they'd come up with a better method to get to the top.

A crowd of people was gathered in one area of the meadow, and I was coming down right smack in the middle of it. I scanned the crowd as I descended and recognized family, friends, coworkers, and neighbors. Some looked as I expected; others were younger or older. Everyone gazed up at me, and they all had the broadest smiles. I knew at that instant what this place was. I opened my eyes and blinked the welling tears from them. "Utopia," I said. "The name of the place is Utopia."