Black Jack

  She was standing by the kitchen sink, but she was swaying like a drunk and wielding a knife. When his eyes found hers he knew then that he would never have her. She looked insane. The intensity of her hatred made his skin crawl with fear. She would stick that knife into him with a song in her heart. He turned around and hurried out of her empty home without looking back. She had not hidden the boy. Something bad had happened to that child and she blamed him.

  “Will you walk into my parlor?”

  said the Spider to the Fly.

  - The Spider and the Fly (1829)

  Black woke up in a white, windowless room that he recognized instantly as the place the unicorn had shown him. So it had begun. There was no fear in his heart. Only terrible pain. She had betrayed him as Green had said she would. The betrayal was bitter, but he couldn’t hate her. How could he? He was more than half in love with her, and all he knew was an unquenchable loneliness and a yearning to reunite with her. He told himself that she had no control over herself and managed to convince himself that she could be saved still. And that he was the one to do it.

  How he did not know yet.

  The door swung open without Black having heard any footsteps outside. Either there was a deep carpet outside or the walls and door were soundproofed. He noticed the door was very thick, like those used for vaults, and he wondered about it.

  A young, slim man walked into the room. He had bland features. His straight brown hair had been cut into a shining bob around his head. ‘Hello, I am Carter Page,’ he announced in an American accent. ‘I believe you are unable even to blink.’ He sounded almost as though he was in awe of the thought. ‘So if you can hear and understand me simply look at the boxes on the screen. Green is for yes and red is for no.

  Black looked at the lighted green box with YES written inside.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Shame you can’t read. It would make my life so much easier.’

  Yes.

  Carter looked at Black curiously. ‘What do you mean yes? I was told you can’t read. Can you?’

  Yes.

  He clapped his hands like a delighted child. ‘That’s fantastic. Did your extraterrestrial friend teach you?’

  Black looked at the red box.

  Carter raised his eyebrows. ‘The TV?’

  Yes.

  ‘Sesame Street like everyone else?’ He tittered at his own wit. His hand pointed to a screen built into the wall that came alive when he touched it. ‘You are hooked up to a state-of-the-art computer. I think you will find it very user-friendly. To charge it I will go through the alphabets with you and the computer will register which part of your brain you are using. Then when next you think of that alphabet it will show it up on the screen. In that way you will make your sentences. Are you ready to start?’

  Black’s eyes darted to the green box.

  Carter produced a remote control from his pocket. The letter A came on the screen. ‘Look at it and think of it.’ His remote pinged. ‘Good.’ He tapped on his screen and the next letter appeared. When all the letters were done, he said, ‘Feel up to some numbers?’ Zero to nine were quickly commenced with. ‘OK, we’re ready to roll. Let’s practice speaking. Spell your name.’

  To Black’s amazement, one by one, the words ‘Black Jack’ appeared on the screen.

  ‘Very good. Now tell me how you feel.’

  A bit faster this time. Fine.

  ‘Now don’t spell it, just simply think the word “fine.”

  Instantly the word ‘fine’ appeared on the screen.

  Wow, Black spelled out.

  Carter laughed. His laugh was infectious. ‘You are good at this. What’s your name again?’

  Black Jack.

  ‘Excellent.’ Now let’s do longer sentences, like; I’m hungry and I want to eat.’

  Why am I here?

  ‘Not for me to know, kid. But rest assured there are people who do and they will be around to see you shortly. I just do what I’ve been paid to do, nothing more.’ He paused. ‘Let’s see, where was I? Ah, you’ll probably not notice it, but your food won’t be going down your throat anymore. Quite barbaric, that. There are tubes that go directly into your stomach. Also, I have to say, you have the most remarkable eyes. They don’t dry out even though you never blink. A medical marvel you are. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.’

  Black liked Carter. His chatter was lively and interesting. He helped Black imprint a list of a thousand words into the computer. After he had left, Black looked at the TV screen that had been set to a non-stop cartoon channel. He wanted to turn it off so he could think, but he did not dare because he did not want his captors to know he could.

  The heavy door opened and a man in an electric wheelchair rolled in. Black stared at him. His body was grotesquely twisted, stooped and heavy; and his legs shriveled, useless things. He had a large forehead, plump cheeks, a narrow nose, thin lips that turned down at the corners, and small, mean eyes. They reminded Black of black holes that swallowed everything and gave nothing back. The emptiness was so profound, it seemed impossible that there was a real person behind them. He was also astoundingly pale.

  ‘I sit out in the sun for two hours every day, but it never seems to color me.’

  Black stared at him. Did this man read minds? Then he realized, and his eyes darted to the screen. The computer was picking up his every thought. All his thoughts were no longer his own. He had been tricked.

  ‘Don’t regard it as a trick. You might find it a great help in communicating.’

  For some seconds Black tried to keep his mind blank.

  ‘You might as well speak to me. Otherwise you will get very bored. You could be in here for years.’

  Who are you?

  He seemed to smile, that is, his lips tried to rise at the corners, but failed. Their downturn was so severe that he ended up with a grimace. His real intent and feeling were in his eyes, which remained black holes of nothing. ‘In our situation, Black, names are meaningless. Although, I must say, I do quite like yours, Master Jack. Being a gambling man, I am unable to resist a good game of Black Jack. The only game to better it is Russian Roulette.’

  How should I address you?

  ‘You may call me Kite.’ He tried again to smile, but it was useless. It was like watching a snake smile.

  Why have you brought me here, Kite?

  ‘Well, it appears that you have made friends with someone that I am rather curious about.’

  Green?

  ‘Yes, Green. Where is he now?’

  I don’t know.

  ‘How do you meet?’

  He comes to me.

  ‘Can you contact him?’

  No.

  ‘What is he like? Is his a fearsome splendor?’

  Fearsome? He is gentle and radiant with dancing fractals.

  ‘Gentle!

  And kind.

  Are you sure?’

  Yes. Very kind and gentle.

  ‘Tell me everything you know.’ He leaned forward eagerly in his wheelchair and Black Jack felt a chill go through him. The overhead light shone on his skin making it appear so diaphanous that the veins underneath showed through. His hands appeared almost blue.

  Why do you want to know?

  ‘For the sake of humanity you must tell me.’

  Humanity? You don’t care about humanity.

  The dead eyes stared hard at him. ‘Yes, in fact, you are quite right. I don’t share your sentimental view of humans. They are…a cancer on the face of Earth.’

  Aren’t you human?

  ‘In a manner of speaking. Some are superior to others.’

  You think you are superior to other humans because you have sold out to our oppressors in exchange for wealth and power? But humans are light beings who are waking up despite all your efforts to keep them asleep.

  Kite laughed. A musical sound at odds with his repulsive appearance. ‘Waking up? Would you be prepared to put that New Age nonsense to a test?’

  We ar
e waking up.

  ‘In that case, you wouldn’t mind being part of a little experiment. A game to see if this waking race of wonder and light will come to your rescue.’

  Why have you brought me here?

  ‘I just told you. You and I are about to embark on a most interesting gamble. To know whose belief is true - yours or mine.

  I have nothing to gamble with.

  ‘There is always your sad, miserable life.’

  My life?

  ‘It’s quite simple, really. The masses will be shown what they think is a live feed of you on a hospital bed and they will be given the opportunity to vote. If they vote no they will add to the vote that preserves your life; but if they vote yes, they will be asked for their name, passport number and address so that a hundred US dollars can be sent to them. And at the end of our game we will know if human beings are the simply wonderful creatures of light and love that you think they are, or they are the stupid, lazy, selfish, spineless trash that I think they are.’

  Black noted that there was no emotion other than disdain on Kite’s face. He spoke as if he was better than all of humanity, as if he wasn’t human at all, but of some higher race, and the elitism of his higher position made the murder of another human being acceptable. It was also obvious that his opinion of human beings was irredeemable. Black remembered his mother telling him, ‘Coldness rots the soul in the end.’

  ‘Well?’ Kite watched him closely.

  So what if humans are all you say? Why is it so important for you to prove it?

  The small eyes flickered. ‘It is not important at all. It’s simply an…amusement, that’s all. Do you agree to play or not?’

  Black Jack knew he was lying. Sometimes he could read his mother’s mind. He tried then to read the man’s thoughts, but he came up against an opaque veil. What lay on the other side was thick and evil. Still Black thought he knew the real reason why he was in that white room.

  He was the bait for Green.

  Kite followed the boy’s thoughts on the screen. The artificial obstruction was the effect of an occult rite and was there for a very good reason. What was behind the wall would terrify him. The game would not be played and his goal would be so much harder to achieve.

  What if I don’t play your game?

  Kite’s eyes gleamed with malice. ‘There is no real consequence to not playing. You will die, of course, in time, in this room. Naturally your mother will be deported.

  And the…er…girl will be used in a blood ritual. There is much demand for her type.’

  Black felt fear clutch his heart. What happens to them if I lose?

  ‘Your mother will be left to carry on with her…little life. The girl’s mind will be wiped clean. It will be as if she had never met you. And her life, too, will carry on as before.’

  What happens to me?

  ‘You will simply be injected with a dose of something lethal.’ His startlingly white hands came up vaguely. It was clear that the matter did not interest him.

  And if I win?

  The man couldn’t even pretend neutrality. Silent laughter shook his lips. The child was a simpleton. He never lost. But then he looked into the boy’s eyes and suddenly felt a frisson of fear run up his spine. The room seemed to become colder.

  ‘It’s freezing in here. Raise the temperature,’ he growled.

  Vents appeared in the sides of the room and warm air poured in. He turned slightly away from the boy. Of course the boy could never win. The game was rigged. Yet, he had unconsciously been moving away from him. He was almost at the door. He wanted to push himself back to the center of the room, but as if there was a force field around the boy that was repelling him, he found himself, unwilling, no, unable to get closer. Kite pulled himself together. Humans, he told himself, were dirty, lowly, cowardly creatures, and this one was no exception. He turned to face Black.

  ‘Forgive me, it is hard for me to get warm. If you win…’ He paused and looked expressionlessly at the boy. The words left his lips smoothly. ‘Then everything goes back to the day before we found you.’

  And the girl?

  ‘She will be set free.’

  You promise this?

  The man’s eyebrows shot up. Clearly, his rotted soul had not expected such innocence. ‘Of course.’

  How many dollars are you prepared to lose?

  ‘Billions.’

  Black was so shocked by the reply that his mind simply repeated Kite’s answer. Billions.

  Kite looked disdainful. ‘Money is not real. It is created out of nothing as electronic entries in bank accounts around the world. Before we carry on, let me clearly state your rights. This is a most dangerous game and you have the right to your own self-determination, the right to choose to play this game or not, and even the right to leave the game at any time. You now have the right to do whatever you want. What do you want to do?’

  I want to play.

  The total absence of any kind of fear in the boy annoyed him, but he did his best not to show it. ‘I’ll watch every move you make. As long as you play the game by my rules, you and your loved ones will live. The cards are stacked in my favor because, well, it is my game.’

  A screen lighted up on the white wall. It showed Black lying on a narrow bed with a shaven head and electrodes attached to his skull. There was no image of Kite in the room, but the clock at the top left of the screen counted time as if the images were from a live feed. At the bottom of the screen there were two blank rectangles - one counted the yes votes and the other the noes.

  As Black watched the screen the number ‘1’ appeared soundlessly in the blank slot underneath the yes vote.

  Kite smiled his cold grimace. ‘That’s my vote.’

  It is beautiful to be alone. To be alone does not mean to be lonely. It means the mind is not influenced and contaminated by society.

  - Jiddu Krishnamurti

  Miss Monroe entered the girl’s quarters carrying a breakfast tray. She had not gone in the morning to awaken her in the usual manner, for she had watched the girl on the closed-circuit camera all night and seen that she had slept not at all. Hour after hour she had sat in the living room, still as a statue, staring at the blank TV screen.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she had whispered, but by the time morning came she was no wiser.

  When she entered, the girl turned to look at her. There was no expression on her face. Miss Monroe went forward purposefully and put the tray on the low table in front of the girl, but she ignored it.

  Miss Monroe straightened and crossed her arms in front of her. ‘I thought you couldn’t read or write.’

  ‘Dakota can’t. I can.’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Shekina.’

  ‘Why have you taken over the body, Shekina?’

  ‘There is something I have to do.’

  ‘You do know that they are watching you, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And that you can’t win. They will get you.’

  ‘I know that too.’

  ‘Aren’t you afraid?’

  ‘No. They still need the body.’

  ‘Can I help?’

  ‘Thank you, but I don’t think so, Miss Monroe.’

  ‘You might as well call me Marilyn from now on.’

  ‘Marilyn? Do you think that’s really your name?’

  For a telling moment Miss Monroe looked confused. What a fool she had been. She had never questioned anything. Her whole life must be one sick joke to them. ‘Probably not.’ She hesitated. ‘I think it might be Alice, though.’

  ‘Alice in Wonderland.’

  ‘Alice in a gray place.’

  Shekina nodded.

  ‘I suppose you won’t be wanting your drugs today.’

  ‘As it happens I do want them.’

  ‘Why? No afternoon session has been scheduled for you.’

  ‘I’d like to keep the routine.’

  ‘All right then. I’ll be back for the tray later, as usual.??
?

  ‘Alice, when you come back can you bring me a bar of chocolate?’

  ‘Chocolate?’

  ‘Mmmm.’

  ‘Any particular type?’

  ‘Nope.’

  When Alice was gone, Shekina lifted the tray cover and looked curiously at the steaming food. She unwrapped the cutlery and proceeded to eat, chewing slowly, tasting every bite. When all the food was gone she took her medicines. She chewed them, even though they were terribly bitter. There was orange juice in the cup. She sipped it and, lifting the cup over her mouth, let the last few drops fall on her tongue. Then she sat back to wait for the chocolate.

  Alice walked in with a Hershey bar. She handed it to Shekina. ‘It was all I could find in the kitchen,’ she explained apologetically.

  ‘Thank you, Alice.’

  ‘See you at lunchtime,’ she said and left.

  Shekina unwrapped the bar slowly. Then she leaned back into the sofa and bit into it. She closed her eyes and let it melt on her tongue. When she opened her eyes to take another bite she noticed some writing on the inside of the chocolate wrapper. Casually she picked it up and pretended to study the ingredients. Then she turned the wrapper around. Alice had written:

  I’m going into town to get help for us.

  She crushed the wrapper in her hand, went into the bathroom and flushed it down the toilet. Then she went back to the sofa and, staring at the empty TV screen, returned to the task of trying to contact the boy by following the electromagnetic signature she had followed before. Blank. Nothing. She sat forward. She knew he was not dead, but being kept in a place that concealed his signature, like one of those storage vaults where top clearance secrets are kept. Those places are so sensitive that even the slightest change in the air caused by a remote viewer would trigger the alarms.

  It meant they would sense her presence as soon as she found him.

  But she was not afraid of them. What she needed was a bridge or a moment when the door to this facility would be open. They had to feed him, monitor him. She would wait. She lay without moving for hours. Time had no meaning for her. She had only one objective: to find that boy.