T.H.E.i. Read online



  T.H.E.I.

  by

  Karl Tutt

  Copyright Karl Tutt 2016

  All rights reserved without limiting the copyright reserved above. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, brands, characters, places, media and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction which might have been used without permission. The publication use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Thanks to Carolyn, my patient reader, and Sue, an editor who is generous with her time and attention.

  Chapter 1

  I measured my left arm today. I used a device that was once called a yardstick. I think they’re on the list of banned items. I found it behind a graying board in the closet. The nail heads were slightly exposed. At one time it had been pried loose. I guess the previous occupant hid it. I don’t know who that was. We’re not told much and any records are inaccessible to the proletariat. All of the measuring is done with lasers now, and I suppose T.H.E.I. believe that thing might be used to stimulate some sort of subversive thinking. At least that’s their excuse for the list. They would probably collect me if they knew . . . send me for more Camp. I’ve got some other stuff that is probably banned. My night shade, a bolt of light proof fabric totally black, large enough to cover me when I knelt. I also found a pocket knife . . . even a couple of books. I don’t read too well. They don’t teach us anymore. But every once in a while I’ll hide from Suzy and try to decipher some of those symbols. I did make out the title of one of them. WALDEN, by some guy whose name I can’t pronounce. It’s about living near a pond or something. The other one is by some guy named Aristotle. Something about ethics, although I’m not really sure what that word means.

  I heard a light click. Someone was there. I stuffed the gear behind the sofa. It wasn’t the safest place, but it worked.

  “Good morning, Mark. I hope you slept well. You’re a bit late this morning.”

  Her voice is always a sweet melody, ringing with love. It reminds me of birds singing in trees, even though you don’t see much of them anymore . . . except on the Vid . . . and even that’s rare.

  “I’m good, Suzy, and thanks for asking. How are you?”

  “Oh Mark, you know I’m always well. How could I be otherwise when we exist in this paradise? By the way, you were very special last night.”

  She cut me a coy look and ran her tongue over her lips.

  “Thanks, Suzy, but you know it’s always special with you. I mean your body, those places your caress on mine. . . the things you whisper softly to me . . . all of it . . . a type of Nirvana.”

  She smiled and shook her mahogany hair off her face.

  “I simply wanted to remind you that I am watching out for you always, and you can call me anytime you need me. Oh, and don’t forget your meds. Remember, your body needs them. You don’t want to be TC. Do you have plans for the day?”

  No, I didn’t, and I surely didn’t want to be TC. It was shorthand for Terminally Challenged . . . it might as well stand for totally crippled. But whatever it was . . . the fluids, the constant drone of the Vid, the shit they pounded into our brains . . . their thing was within me. It consumed me. I was its meal. That’s what T.H.E.I. wanted. It kept me where they wanted me, and constantly monitored and modified my condition. I couldn’t remember where T.H.E.I came from or when they weren’t in charge. The letters stood for TOTAL HEALTH ENTERPRISE INTERNATIONAL. I guess that was world-wide, though I wasn’t sure what that meant, either. My world was small, but intimate . . . and curiously enough, infinite. It didn’t seem to matter anymore. Suzy was right. We lived in a virtual paradise. I had her and anything else a man could ever want.

  I shook off a dimming sense of dread and smiled back at her.

  “Plans? Okay . . . I was actually thinking of skiing . . . no, make that sailing. It would be nice to see a blue sky. Smell the salt water and watch the dolphins ride the swells in our wake.”

  “You certainly know you can. The world is in your hands. It is boundless. Let me know when you’re ready.”

  “Thank you, Love.”

  It was much the same conversation we had every morning. A part of me wanted to hate her, but I don’t know why. She met my every need with loving kindness. She listened when I was uncertain. She stoked my body when I hurt. She led me, and gave me continual assurance that this was me our own special brand of heaven. I wanted to believe it, and most of the time I did.

  “I’ll be back shortly.” she said.

  Then she flickered slightly and disappeared. I crawled back under my night shade.

  It was down to sixteen inches. The arm was shrinking. It had begun to look like a dry, fallen branch I’d once seen in an old school yard. But that was before The Holy Reckoning. T.H.E.I. had made all things right. We were all healthy both mentally and physically. That’s what they told us and I suppose it was true, despite my arm. There were no more dead branches. I had whatever I wanted when I wanted it. It was all perfect.

  But the muscles . . . or what was left of them . . . still hung yellowed and weak from my shoulder like rotting fruit. Lack of use, and --- I suspected --- the morning fluids. Sometimes I skipped it, placing my arm in the cradle in the right rest in the recliner. There was a port built into the chair. It was a perfect fit for the one they had installed in my forearm. I have to admit it felt good. The fluids ran warm and filled my body with a sense of well-being that I didn’t get anywhere else, unless I was in bed with Suzy. Meanwhile, my left leg was on the same track, shrinking, losing mass, soon to be almost useless.

  A few months back I had hidden a plastic jug. They won’t allow us any weights and they forbid any lifting other than spooning food into our mouths. I filled the container with water and began a daily routine when Suzy was out of the unit . . . still only under my night shade. I brought it up to my waist and let it fall slowly. Twenty-five times with my right arm. I tried it with my left, but it was no use. Too small, too flabby. I’d waited too long. They had counted on that. After all, I was busy with other things. The Himalayas were breathtaking, and I could go to Paris a hundred times if I wanted, or to Barcelona. Not to mention the women. All sizes and colors . . . beautiful, willing, with only one thought in mind . . . to satisfy what was left of the man in me. Suzy knew, but she ignored it as long as I was content. Somehow it seemed okay as long as I had her tacit permission. Still, I carried a deep sense of guilt whenever I cheated . . . and that’s what it was. No man would want more that Suzy was willing to give. It was certainly a betrayal, but one we both tried to ignore.

  I eyed the jug. I wanted the weight. It hurt, and I knew if T.H.E.I. caught me, I’d be back in Camp. Four times already. Even though the gray fog of memories left nothing hostile or unpleasant in my consciousness, I didn’t think I could make it through another session. Each time I came back --- even though I felt better in some ways --- it was as if they had removed a bit more of me with an invisible scalpel. There should have been scars, deep recesses where they had sliced away a part of me, but they were mysteriously absent. But still there were areas where there had been warm blushing flesh . . . unmarked . . . but now gray and lifeless.

  I thought about breakfast. Probably blueberry pie and sweet butter pecan ice cream. I programmed the auto-food. My grandmother, before she died, told me that once people had to watch what they ate . . . that they were
overweight and suffered from diabetes and heart disease. Now the diseases were all long gone. No more. We were all healthy. That’s what they promised and that’s what they told us over and over on the Vid that dominated the left wall of my unit.