Re-Education 6

That night, the Devoted Faithful Servant paraded in front of a roaring bonfire where numerous tireless dancers gyrated around in a unceasing circle.

 

“Friends, we are gathered here to witness the grand act of the immolation of an oblation that has been the symbol of repression tying us down!  Before you, one of your own is bravely gathering her courage to separate with a part of herself dear to herself and would appreciate your presence in following through.”

 

The Mouthy Woman held the beautiful flaming red lingerie that’d been a close confidante in her travels, the garmet making her feel more attractive than she could possibly imagine.  She delicately ran her fingers over the invisible seams of the silky fabric, tracing the contours of familiar patterns she’d worn dozens of times.  Having felt the material one last time, she took a picture of it in its full glory.  Then she solemnly cast her favorite flimsy revealing underwear into the fire.

 

The ritual completed, the Mouthy Woman was embraced by the surrounding crowd, giving condolences for her bravery and reassurances that she would never again be alone, accepting all this welcoming appreciation with a broad smile plastered across her face.

 

Once she was laid to rest surrounded in a heap of sleeping bodies, the Mouthy Woman dislodged herself from the entangled limbs thanks to practice from earlier events, deftly walked across the spent bodies and silently made her way to the Numb Woman who didn’t have her nose buried in a book for a change.

 

“Dere’s sumtin’ sheevy ‘bout dhis playsh.”

There’s something skeevy about this place.

 

“What changed your mind?”

 

“Dere wuz sum kurensee teckid un eh puck en muh uld closhd eh wuz shayving fir uh renny dhay.  Wen eh gut dhem beck, eht wuz nir lingir dhere.”

There was some kurrency tucked in a pack in my old clothes I was saving for a rainy day.  When I got them back, it was no longer there.

 

Having somebody on her side revitalized the Numb Woman.  “While you were gone, I did some research of my own.  They’ve been taking generous charitable donations from powerfully affluent high-profile backers.  But that can’t be their only source of income.  Do you know where the majority of the money we’re supposed to get goes?”

 

“Eh hid un enklung.”

I had an inkling.

 

“The money that’s brought in goes into buying off the men who guard us, the large vehicles that ferry the Living Martyr around, bribing political officers in gaining good favor, lavish mansions scattered about the world, and discount berries at a good price.”

 

“What surprises me is that all this information is right out there in the open for all to see.  Mixed amidst the falsified papers are accurate documents of their doings.  They’re stacked on the same shelves as the fertility books, quick-eating cookbooks and fashion advice.  They don’t even bother to hide it.  They’re so confident they leave their monetary records out in the open for anyone to see.  I’m guessing they weren’t counting on someone smart enough to figure this out, having weakened most of us through hunger.”

 

“What escapes me is they’re not dictating what we learn.  Most communities like these have a singular unifying vision for how we should think.  But they’re letting us make our own choices without telling us whether we're on the right track or not, allowing us to draw our own conclusions.”

 

Another announcement from the Living Martyr came unprompted, making them jump.

 

WHEN MAKING CONVERSATION, ALWAYS STRIVE TO REACH THE HIGHEST ECHELON OF COMMUNICATION.  EVERY SENTENCED UTTERED MUST BE OF SIGNIFICANT IMPORTANCE WITH LASTING IMPARTING WISDOM THAT’D PERSIST THROUGHOUT THE AGES.  INSIGNIFICANT FOIBLES OF DAILY ROTE ARE MONUMENTAL TIME-WASTERS NOT WORTH QUIBBLING, SQUANDERING THE VERY AIR WE BREATHE.  MAKE YOUR WORDS COUNT.

 

Even though these random announcements came with enough frequency to be considered background noise, it was still alarming, compared to how quiet it was upon their arrival.

 

“Dere’sh sumtin’ elsh,” the Mouthy Woman breathed, bringing out her photos of the portions they’d been served since they arrived.

“U’f bin kumperin’ playsh sinsh deh sekund kersh, und ish’ umpirceptible, baht dhey’re gredially grawin’ smullir en deh sentir, mukin’ ur pirshins smullir.”

I’ve been comparing plates since the second course, and it’s imperceptible, but they’re gradually growing smaller in the center, making our portions smaller.

 

“They’ve been cutting back?”

 

“Ihsh nut yer emijinayshon.  Hyerz deh fotoz eh tuk urlier.  Weer duffinitly been sirved lesh.”

It’s not your imagination.  Here’s the photos I took earlier.  We’re definitely being served less.

 

The pictures were a study in contrasts.  Compared to the portions on the plates, there was more than half missing.  In other instances, the plates were smaller while the food portions remained the same, giving the illusion that there was more than there actually was.

 

“How many photos have you taken?”

 

“Uh lawt.”

A lot.

 

The two of them pored through the dizzying array of photographs, arranging them into spreads, trying to discern a pattern they could understand, trying to make sense of this strange place they’d been drawn to, when they were interrupted by an unexpected visitor.

 

“Hey, what’re you nasty biznatches up to?”

 

The jovial sociable voice was a reprieve coming completely out of nowhere, once again catching them by surprise.  In the short time interval the Young Woman had gone, she had changed considerably in more ways than one.  There was a look of intensity on her face that wasn’t there before, a fishy smell emanating from her pores that wasn’t there before, and a noticeable bulge in her stomach that wasn’t there before.

 

“What’re you doing here?  What happened to you?!”

 

“They called everybody back to witness her humiliation, and that included me.”

 

“I’m not talking about that.”

 

“Hau dhih yew wend uhp en sech uh pruhdicumint?”

How did you wind up in such a predicament?

 

“Let’s just say a certain Guide wasn’t paying as much attention as she should’ve.”

 

“You only left yesterday!  How’d you get so pregnant so fast?”

 

“What do you mean?  I’ve been gone for weeks.”

 

“Oh come now, you can’t possibly have been gone that long!”

 

“Being down here, you kind of lose your sense of time.  When’s the last time you slept?”

 

“It was - ” the Numb Woman started off then stalled.  “It was...”  When was the last time she went to bed?  The beds were made every day, but she never saw anybody in them.  It was disconcerting that she prided herself in recalling minutiae in exacting detail, but when it came to keeping track of personal records, her memory was a blank slate.  She couldn’t have been that busy!

 

“When was the last time you took a bath?”

 

Not since... they’d arrived.  In fact, a majority of the members present hadn’t cleaned themselves in years, claiming that accumulating filth was good for their bodies.  For that matter, she never saw anybody go to the bathroom.

 

“Dhat duzzen’t enshir eny kweshuns.”

That still doesn’t answer any questions.

 

“It’s easy if you have the knowhow.  And I had the knowhow.”

 

“Then wouldn’t you have wanted to avoid - ” then it dawned on the Numb Woman.  “You wanted to get pregnant??”

 

“U’ve neffer knuwn yew tuh be wrecklesh.  Yer oozily smurter den dat.  Dhis ish uh dengiresh path yer goying daown.”

I’ve never known you to be reckless.  You’re usually smarter than that.  This is a dangerous path you’re going down.

 

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

 

“Beshidesh, yer’r nut efin rilly prignant.”

Besides, you’re not even really pregnant.

 

“How... how can you say that?”

 

“Ah kin tehhl.  Ah kin uhhlwhys tehhl.”

I can tell.  I can always tell.

 

“It doesn’t matter what you believe!  What matters is what *I* believe.  What’ve you been up to?”

 

“I’ve been making a rudimentary map of our surroundings.  Here’s the entrance/exit, over there is the library, in that direction is the kitchen, the greenhouse is over there, these are the sleeping quarters and this is the faculties.”

 

“What’s this empty space here?”

 

“Ah’v bin drying tuh tayke kivirt pikshursh dere wit’haut enybuddy nohtikshing.”

I’ve been trying to take covert pictures there without anybody noticing. 

 

“Your body’s blocking all these shots.”

 

“Tirnsh haut kepturing fotosh frum behin ish herdir den ih luuksh.”

Turns out capturing photos from behind is harder than it looks.

 

“I’ve seen women go through a door there, though no one ever returns.  But nobody ever bothered me when I looked their way.  What could be the common...”

 

The Numb Woman swivelled between the Young Woman and the Mouthy Woman, looking for a connection and found it.  Acting on a hunch, she perused through the spread photographs until she came across the irate woman who made the outburst regarding the ‘Mirdir Misheriesh’.  Taking a closer look at the barely imperceptible image, there was an anklet near her foot.

 

“The jewelry.  That’s how they’ve been keeping tabs on us.”

 

They started tugging at their trinkets trying to take them off without success, and the Numb Woman stopped their actions.

 

“We can’t remove them.  Not without letting them know that we know.  We don’t know the full extent of these accessories.  They could be recording everything that happens within their vicinity.”

 

And... she just blurted it out for all to hear.

 

“You know the worst part?  I should be surprised, but I’m no longer surprised.  The sheer nakedness of their arrogance doesn’t surprise me anymore.  I’ve tried telling anyone who’ll listen to me, but they refuse to believe me.  They can’t think of the Living Martyr acting on these terms.  It goes against everything they believe in.  At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before I’m targeted and silenced.”

 

Upon speaking these words, as if signaling fate, two burly men came sauntering over.

 

“They’ve come.”

 

“The Living Martyr requests your presence.”

 

The Numb Woman sighed resignedly, and was about to get up, when the burly men said, “Not you”, and the Young Woman was accosted instead.  As always, the Numb Woman was constantly surprised.

 

“My time has come.”

 

The Young Woman was ferried by the burly men who treated her with courtesy through the door that no one else returned from, down lavishly furnished hallways decorated with gaudy paintings from a long-forgotten artist that cost a fortune.  The burly men never broke their stride as they kept her pace evenly kept and led her into an empty nondescript room.

 

Her eyes traversed the sparse gatherings.  This wasn’t like the outside designs at all.

 

“What is this??”

 

The only response was a treatment of hostility from the burly men who treated her in ways that were not gentle.  They punched her in the stomach, loosening the layer of false skin, carrying the bound fish she’d stuffed up there.

 

“We gave you every opportunity, and you still chose to return.”

“You only have yourself to blame.”

“You knew the Living Martyr likes young girls like you.”

“You were too smart for your own good.”

 

After several minutes of inflicted abuse, the Faithful Devoted Servant decided enough time had passed and picked up the offending dead animal used as malodorous bait.

 

“You used the funds raised to selfishly purchase a fish for your own means.  Funds that could’ve gone towards building a better world.”

 

The Young Woman looked up from her disadvantaged situation through swollen eyes.  “You’re doing quite well here for a recluse.”

 

“Lying is a sin, unless it brings people closer to the Living Martyr.  Therefore, sinning is fine if it’s for a good cause.  And as long as I’m sinning, I might as well get some offerings that would just go to waste on those unwashed masses who wouldn’t appreciate finer things.”

 

The burly men resumed their beatings, further reducing the Young Woman’s endurance, taking care to never deliver a fatal blow.  The Living Martyr gave clear instructions: torture this agent of the Masters for as long as humanely possible.  Don’t even let the chance of death be a possibility of escape.

 

The Living Martyr had a feeling that there were informants inside the bunches of Comfort Women bandied her way, vying to oust her.  By deliberately selecting the most outrageous choice of unusual fetishes available in a controlled setting, she was able to narrow down who these spies were.

 

And now she had someone to vent her frustrations on.