The Forgotten Society

Men and women sat together around a circular table, all wearing cloaks that hid their identities. The room was too dark to see clearly in, only the few candles providing some illumination. One of the members stood and greeted her comrades. “Welcome back to the Forgotten Society. For today’s meeting, we shall talk about the progress of our plan.” Facing the man next to her, she asked, “How goes it?”

The man she addressed stood and replied, “It’s going smoothly. If it continues to go smoothly, I expect that we should be ready in about a month.”

The leader nodded, satisfied with the response. “Good, good. And how about you?”

Another member stood and said, “It’s going well on my end as well. We should be able to launch stage 2 without any issues.”

“I see,” the leader said, continuing to nod, “that’s good to hear. And what about you?”

This went on for a good chunk of the meeting. The leader asked what one of the members were doing to contribute to their “plan” and that member would say something vague and ominous, which prompted the leader to nod.

Turning to the only person who hadn’t spoken yet, the leader asked, “And how about you?”

The member stood. “Well, it seems to go well,” she said awkwardly.

The leader stared at her expectantly. When there was no further response, the leader said, “And?”

“And, well, things are going...good? I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“You’re supposed to provide me with updates with what you’re doing for the plan.”

“Here’s the thing, what exactly is the plan?”

“You don’t know what the plan is?” the leader asked, outraged.

“Well do you?” She looked around the room. “Does any of you know what this plan we’re talking about is?”

The cloaked figures murmured to themselves, but even without clearly seeing their faces, it was clear that no one was sure what the plan was. Ideas were thrown around, but none seemed quite right or accurate. 

“Now that I think about it,” one of the members said, “what are we exactly?”

“We’re the Forgotten Society.”

“No, I mean besides that. What are we? In fact, what does ‘Forgotten Society’ even mean? What do we actually do?”

Everyone grimaced at that. It was one thing to admit not knowing what their plan was, but not knowing their whole reason for existing made them feel even sillier. 

“Maybe we’re vampires?”

“No,” one member said, shaking his head. “That can’t be it, I have tanned skin.” He pulled back the sleeve of his shirt and showed his bare arm as proof.

“Are we supervillains? The candles, dark room, and cloaks seem to suggest we’re supposed to be mysterious.”

“Who says we have to be the villains though? Maybe we’re the good guys.”

It was a good point, but it only managed to frustrate them more. If they couldn’t rule out that they were the good guys or bad guys, that meant that they had an endless list of things they could be. Firefighters, janitors, a baking club, an enthusiastic group of D&D players, etc.

“Are we racists?”

“We better not be,” a dark-skinned woman said, frowning.

“Maybe we’re wizards then?”

One of the members scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, how could we possibly be wizards?”

“Well, do you have any other theories?”

The room went silent. They all shrugged and proceeded to try to activate their hidden powers. Some of them made odd sounds to use spells, others made various hand motions in order to fire things out of their fingers, and a couple even stood on top of the tables and jumped off in an attempt to fly. It was quite a sight.

The leader, or whoever she really was, was getting frustrated. “Okay, that’s enough!” she shouted, getting the society’s attention. “We are clearly not wizards. Let’s put an end to this and stop looking like jackasses!”

Everyone sat back down sheepishly. As they did, the only door in the room opened and everyone turned to face the entrance. Standing there was a man who instead of wearing a dark cloak like the rest of the society wore scrubs. To the society’s surprise, the man flipped a switch next to the door, illuminating the entire room. They all gaped at each other.

“We had electric lights this entire time,” one of the members said, “and we used a bunch of candles?”

The man in the scrubs walked over to the table. He was holding a tray with pills.

“Sir,” the leader asked, “do you happen to know who we are?”

“Why of course,” the man said, “you’re the Forgotten Society.”

“Yes, but what do we do? What does being in the Forgotten Society mean?”

“You’re all suffering from memory issues.”

The leader blinked at him. “Really?”

“Of course. Why else would you be called the Forgotten Society? It’s because you’ve forgotten everything.” He pointed at his tray. “Take these pills, it’ll help you remember.”

The members looked suspicious, but they complied to the man’s instructions. The tray was passed around until everyone had taken one pill, all except the leader. She stared at the pill in her hand, feeling apprehensive about the drug. The man put his hand on her shoulder and smiled at her. Reluctantly, she swallowed the pill.

The man took the now empty tray with him and walked out. Behind him, the members of the Forgotten Society started to droop in their chairs, some of them even drooling. The leader saw this and was terrified, but it was too late. Even she was feeling the effects and couldn’t find the strength to stand. Soon enough, she joined the rest of the society and forgot everything.

The man in the scrub locked the door to the society’s room and sighed. He went to a separate room that was filled with screens, all surveilling different groups within the building. Some were like the Forgotten Society and too drugged to think or move, but others were beginning to question their reason for being here. After refilling his tray, the men left for his next stop.