For as much freedom as I’ve been allowed to present my stories, there are certain things I am unable to speak of. The only way to bypass this hurdle is by either using blatant metaphors, or use already pre-existing media that presents these topics in full view.
The Accountant with the Canary Smile’s book for instance, is filled with mathematical in-jokes that no one but he would get, most of the common connotations having phased out of the public consciousness ages ago. His in-jokes aren’t even what you’d consider typical math jokes, being more along the likes of:
“Did you have fun?”
“Depends on your definition of ‘fun’.”
“Fun is fun.”
“That’s no description! That’s a recursive argument! It’s like saying a circle is a circle! It’s circular logic!”
In that same rationale, stories that were once considered shocking at the time became revolutionary and then commonplace once people got used to them. What was once aimed at adults is now suitable for small children. As a result, there are subtle details embedded in the text that manages to slip past the censors unawares. One such example is the majority of the prose of Memoirs of Babyface, which due to widespread commercial knowledge and lax use of copyright, I’m allowed to post large portions of the narrative without fear of repercussions.
I can’t tell you exactly what I wanted to mention earlier due to mandatory imposed censorship, but you should be able to figure out for yourself.
“Speak freely for the record.”
Is it time? Can I talk now?
First off, let me say that apart from my appearance, there is nothing terribly remarkable about me. My experience is nothing less than what countless others have encountered before. My surviving wasn’t from anything special. I just happened to be among the small number who survived. (That figure is actually pretty high, but when compared against the death toll, is actually astronomical. The true figure may never be fully known.)
They say you never forget the first foster family you’re with, and for that, I curse the Silent ONEs, because I cannot recall my early years with my family. When the Silent ONEs came, we were gathered up and forcibly taken away from our closest relatives for the slightest infractions possible. It didn’t matter if our parents did nothing wrong, it didn’t matter if our only living relatives were the only ones who understood us. All that mattered was that we’d committed the cardinal sin of reminding them that we existed.
To this day, I still don’t know for what reason why I was taken away from my parents and siblings. It must’ve been for being too happy, because they couldn’t stand to see us having so much fun.
All the memories I have of my family come from second-hand sources and my face which remains unblemished to this day. I was later told that I had a twin sister who was quite the cutie, and liked to make faces. One day, our mother told her to stop, otherwise, her face would ‘freeze like that’. Her face didn’t, but I happened to be in the vicinity, and since then, my face has remained perpetually young, even as the rest of my body has wasted away.
This was back when lies had staying power, and you could suffer actual consequences from carelessly saying such things. Some lies had longer staying power than others, and the first one that took root was the repeated claim that our lives had no purpose. The most terrifying weapon used was being told on a daily basis that we were absolutely useless good for nothings that should just die already. We couldn’t believe this at first, but after so many times, we began to wonder. Who were we to deny? A lie told often enough can turn to be the truth.
If we didn’t want to die, we had to prove that we still had worth. Otherwise, we’d just be lazing around doing nothing productive. Upon arrival, we were assigned new names that would better conform to the society we were integrated into. We were to forget our old names. This was a monumental task, since there was no way we could possibly pronounce these names properly. Furthermore, our old names were deleted from the register and our new names were put in place. To anyone who were looking for us, they would have no idea what we were called.
For the longest time, I thought my parents abandoned me, since I was so much of a burden to them. If they tried a little harder, they could’ve found me without much trouble. Back then, I had no idea of the hurdles that had to be leaped just to get the slightest hint of knowledge of my whereabouts. At the time, I just remember the feeling of being alone with a group of children my age who had similar resentments.
The Silent ONEs were aversely repellant to noise in any form, preferring to direct instructions directly into our heads. We were assigned into mandatory classes where we were forbidden to speak any language, save for the one we were assigned to. If we reverted back to what we were comfortable with, we would be punished severely.
To further incentive us, we were forbidden from eating or sleeping unless we asked for these things properly. So many of us didn’t grasp that immediately that there were multiple deaths that first day alone. That didn’t matter, since there were always more of us to find, and we were continuously added every day.
We were treated less than animals. No, that’s not quite right - animals had better rights than us.
Because we weren’t able to communicate the way we wanted, our ‘saviors’ who were supposed to protect us took advantage of us, since we couldn’t possibly complain to anyone who might understand what we were so upset about. And there were lots of things they did that would never have been done otherwise.
Our Teachers were very adamant that we not open our mouths to talk. For if we did, our mouths would be sealed up with flesh. Our tongues and teeth still remained, but our jaws wouldn’t work properly anymore. Those who were affected had to get our nutrients intravenously. When left to our own devices, and were desperate enough, we would attempt to cut open the space where our mouths had been. This was extremely painful, since we were carving new openings over sensitive spaces where no blemishes had existed before, and showed no previous signs there ever was anything other than blank skin where our holes had been.
These crude attempts at surgery always led to spurting blood, since we had no way of stabilizing our blood flow, and had no anesthesia to dull the pain. Once the mark had been made, we’d have to swallow our screams as well as our iron-tasting blood, and hope against hope that they wouldn’t notice a new crude opening that wasn’t supposed to be there.
If we were caught reoffending, they’d up the ante. After sealing one nostril, they’d escalate by sealing the next. Cutting into our mouths was one thing, but sticking a pen up our nose was something else. There was too much risk, and we could never gauge the right amount of pressure needed to break through. The layer surrounding our noses were thicker than around our mouths. There were a lot of nosebleeds in the many first failed attempts.
Those students who were unlucky enough to be punished three times in the same class were literally gasping for breath, causing further rebukes from the Teachers who couldn’t stand the disruption despite covering up the source of noise. After which, things got quiet soon enough. A lot of us didn’t survive past the first few lessons. In a class of a thousand students, we lost more than half that number this way.
That’s how long it took before the Teachers figured that we couldn’t control our flesh the way they could. They seemed surprised that some of the more desperate students would actively take a knife, and rather than attack their liberators, use it on themselves for momentary relief. Not that that stopped some Silent ONEs who took a certain sadistic glee from preventing us from talking, and actively sought out ways to force us to.
We were young children trying to communicate in the only language we knew, and were discouraged from doing so in favor of a less efficient method. The Silent ONEs tried to bring us up to higher levels of consciousness our biology was incapable of. Any complaints sent their way was ignored, since they figured their way of communication was good enough for everybody.
The interior of the cochlea ear canal has a fluid that vibrates when exposed to sound. If it’s left inactive for too long, then it hardens. Once it becomes solid, hearing anything beyond that point is impossible. By that same principle, exposure to certain frequency waves activates certain chemical compounds in our bodies that made us more susceptible to their modes of communication. But we didn’t know that at the time.
Rather than endure the telepathic lessons that gave us painful headaches, we devised alternate forms of communication. Covert writing. Knocking codes. We could pick up subtle cues just from minimal facial expressions and body language. But even these feeble attempts at rebellion were easily found and quashed.
We were forbidden from indulging any entertainment that showed us in major roles. Instead, we were regulated into doctrined documentaries that showed the Silent ONEs as bastions of humanity, who were worthy of lifting us up to lofty platforms that we could barely begin to comprehend. It was extremely difficult to identify with any of their stories, since they espoused a philosophy that seemed as nonsensical as it was fantastical. As much as they espoused being beneficial to humankind, they showed very little interest in humanity. If there were any displays of humans, they were too brief for us to latch any sympathy to, but they were welcome reprieves after drowning in a sea of faceless beings and empty structures filled with sights that even now, I struggle to explain.
Everything kept moving too quickly to let sink in. And woe betide those of us who tried to take our time to take notes down properly. We’d get lambasted for not copying fast enough, and demeaned for having sloppy handwriting. But we persevered, trying to glimpse the slightest sense of meaning, no matter how small. If there was anything that appeased these Silent ONEs, we grasped on with a frightened fervor bordering on panic. Anything that would save us from facing their wrath.
More than once, we grew homesick, and would attempt to run away, unaware that whatever we once thought as home was just gone. Plans were made to evade the watchful rounds, but we were always caught and punished. The boys were forced to wear dresses at all times, while the girls were forced to wear pants. Those who got caught multiple times had harsher sentences. We would lose our hair, then our toes and fingers. That was reserved for those desperate enough to run away on handstand. Looking back now, it’s easier to look back and laugh at the circumstances, even though what we experienced wasn’t very funny.
We tried many times to sneak out or eat extra food or hide our favorite things, yet they always managed to find out through ways we had no way of knowing. There was no possible way we could think that they could tell exactly where we were by reading our thoughts alone, yet they were utterly blind to when we passed notes in class. There was a lot of risky experimentation in those early days.
My youthful appearance saved me more times than once when exploring our new surroundings where I’d just have to act cute. Other times, I wasn’t as lucky. When I was spared, I’d share my findings with my friends, and we’d concoct elaborate escape fantasies. These were our only avenue of escape, and when the Silent ONEs familiar with my past behavior returned, the punishments resumed.
There were only a few recognizable friends from the before times when our names were still comprehensible who managed to stick together. Rajesh, Melissa, Lisa, Dimitra, Candace, Cory, Tory, Bobby, Danny, Clumsy and Godfrey. As for me, I’d been nicknamed ‘Babyface’ for so long that my real name had been long forgotten. For as much as we tried to stay together, most of us didn’t stick around for very long. We were shuffled around to prevent familiarity. Over time, our friends started to drift apart, our presence being forced into new locations far away from each other, and no means of communication between each other. And what little communication we had was sorely limited.
Their torturous lessons seemed like they’d go on forever, and it certainly seemed that way. That was, until the Ocular ONEs came, who chased the Silent ONEs off and liberated us from their teachings.
...Only because they wanted to pass on THEIR way of life, which was the RIGHT way to go about things, go figure.
Oh yes, and they gave us new names too, to wipe away the memory of our time with the previous caretakers, rather than give our old names back. So, anyone still looking for me would have to go through two names instead of just one. Assuming they could even find out about my first changed name in the first place.
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