Alone

It had been three days since the storm started and it didn’t look like it was stopping anytime soon. I was sheltered under some cardboard boxes, which had turned too soggy to support themselves, let alone shelter me - it was as if I was standing under the rain. Many times I thought of getting up and finding a better place to spend the night but, I feared not only the frequent boom of the thunder or the occasional lightning that followed, but the thugs who came out at this time of night.. Even after decades, it seems that these people never sleep and continuously watch you from the shadows; like a curfew - if all the homeless people weren’t sleeping by 11 pm, it was these people’s job to get rid of us, like mere pieces of garbage. The boxes prevented anyone from seeing me at night, but not the loud bang of the gunshots. It was this that kept me from dozing off into the merciless night.

My cold, wet hands were tucked within my legs, my legs bent inward to conserve some heat. Someone had stolen my entire cart while I had gone to find some food. It had everything I rummaged over the years; a blanket, pillow, some bits of food and water, and gloves; oh how I missed my gloves! I always brought it with me, but yesterday, I was close to a dumpster, so I decided to leave it behind. I made sure to conceal it well but someone must have been watching me. The five minutes that I took was enough for the thief to get what he or she came for. I resented myself for it and should have known better than to take the risk. All I could do now was to start all over again, like I did when I first arrived onto these streets. This time though, I knew what I had to do. 

The night passed and the storm had calmed down, thankfully, but that didn’t mean it was going to stop. The morning was normal; car horns blaring, huge crowds scrambling to the store with the biggest discount, pigeon droppings falling on people’s heads - all normal from a homeless man’s perspective. It was reasonable enough weather to go on a little scavenger hunt. I knew from experience that nice weather doesn’t last long, so I had to hurry to find not only a shelter, but also some food and new clothes. I got up from under the boxes and took a look around. Other homeless people had also started to look for food in the dumpsters. One man made a mistake of shouting excitedly, indicating that he had found some food, which caused others to rush towards him and fight for it. 

”Amateur”, I thought but in the back of my mind, I knew I was once that amateur as well. 

I fixed my hair as well as I could, to blend in with the crowd. As for my clothes, I had no choice but to keep them on until they dried. People were looking at me from everywhere, as if I was some inhumane creature rather than the same species. Some were discrete about it, looking only when I was not, but I could feel their eyes burning into me. And others simply couldn’t help it.

“What happened to you, freak?” 

“Stay away from me, oh my God! You stink.” 

And it was true. I did. But I had been in these conditions long enough not to even care anymore. Fashion is something one must sacrifice in order to be successful on the streets. I was shoved by some who were brave enough to touch me, and spat on by ones that were not. I continued through the crowd because I knew that resorting to fighting would do me no good as I was too weak to fight. As I escaped into an alleyway, the clatter of the crowd subsided and I pulled out my map to see where I was. 

North St. A dumpster was close by, but before I could get there, something caught my eye. A few feet in front of me, I could see a folded blanket. Without hesitation, I went towards it and picked it up. It was heavy, so there was something inside. It was also very warm and soft, as if it had been left in the sun before being placed here although, there hadn’t been any sun the past few days. I took the blanket with me, making sure that I wasn’t being followed. I then hid behind some trash cans behind a small shop. I placed the blanket on the ground, and opened it. Inside, there was a cylindrical container, with crimson liquid peering from within. I soon realized that that was the thing that made the blanket feel so warm. I wanted to pick it up, but feared getting burnt. Nonetheless, my heart was yelling at me to touch it. And so I did. But as soon as I did, the liquid inside the container turned a light shade of blue. My hand didn’t feel hot, instead, I felt cool. It was then that I saw the opening for the container, and so I decided to open it. I don’t really know why I wanted to open it. I should have left the container alone, and taken the blanket, but it called out to me. Like when you know something is wrong, but still end up doing it.

As I opened it, I decided to test its capabilities by pouring it onto a rat that was amused by the turquoise light. The liquid just fell on the rat’s body, and drenched its fur. I looked away too soon to realize that the rat disappeared. Thinking that it was safe, I poured it into my hands. The cool fluid flowed into my already wet hands, and almost instantly, I felt a ringing in my ear. “Miikke”. I heard my name being called by an unfamiliar voice and after a few seconds, I fell unconscious.

When I came to, my eyes needed a few moments to fathom where I was. Around me, transparent walls concealed me from what seemed to be some sort of lab. There was equipment surrounding me, and I was constrained to a bed. An unpleasant and an unfamiliar aroma was floating in the air, and my mind wanted to escape this ratchet place. I would rather have been homeless than sit here waiting for something to happen. Then, an automated voice said,

“Welcome Mike to the Home of the Spartans. You are in lockdown and will be released after two weeks.” 

That was all that it said, and then from holes in the ceiling escaped a visible green gas that once again put me to sleep.

 2 Weeks Later… 

My body was sore and I was no longer wearing the old and soggy clothes from the day I touched the liquid. I was still in the bed but my constraints had been removed. I got up and walked around the room, trying to find a door. Then, as if on cue, a man accompanied by two bodyguards appeared from within the ground. I asked him to get me out of here and he replied, 

“Relax, Mike-”

“How do you people know my name?”

“You gave it to us 10 years ago.”

That is when I went homeless.

“Lies, I was homeless then. I had never seen you before in my life!”

“Mike, we brainwashed you for an experiment. You were willing to risk your life for it because you said you didn’t have anything better to do with your life. You lost your wife, your job, and your house, so we took you in.”

“I don’t believe you.” 

“I knew you wouldn’t. So here is the footage of the entire thing.”

He showed me a video and it showed me and him, talking to each other. I had said that I had nothing else to do with my life. And yet, I don’t remember any of it. 

“We told you that you would be brainwashed and you agreed. You said you wanted to forget your past at whatever cost, even if it meant being part of an experiment that made you homeless. It all seems a lie, but it's true. Now that we’ve finished conducting the experiment, you are no longer needed, so we gave you that teleportation liquid. The rat that you tested it on has been eliminated from the laboratory. We will give you your memory back if you want it.”

“Yes, I want it. Of course I want it. I need it. I don’t know what I was thinking - forgetting about my past. That’s what a coward would do. Not me. I’m Michael Gray.”

“Actually, your name is Johansen Berger. To recover your memory, we need to also edit your family’s. That process will take a while, but I assure you, that as soon as we finish, you will be reunited with your family.”

A week had passed and I was finally going back to my small apartment. My wife, Diane, had passed long before my memory was erased. The kids, Cooper and Lily, were left on their own to figure out the world for themselves. I was excited but ashamed. What if my kids tell me to leave? What if they don’t forgive me for what I did? I started second-guessing myself, but it was too late. I was outside their door, and so I knocked. 

An elderly man opened the door. 

“Cooper?” I asked

“Who? My name is Silverstein. There is no Cooper here. He was murdered along with his wife or something, Lily, I think it was, I don’t remember.” 

At his words, my life crumbles within seconds. I couldn’t bear it, so I did what I could, I jumped out the window, and felt the wind rush through my air. The ground got closer and closer until it was right there. My eyes closed, and weren’t opening anytime soon.