In Search of Utopia

Perched atop the tallest building in the Zirconium Province, Fenwick looks down on a perfect world. Bodies moving along the roadway in seamless synchronicity. Whistling workers reporting happily to a day of manning the theatres, the grocery stores, and even the mines. Seeing all this joy, this merriment, this effervescent bliss Fenwick wants to kill himself even more.

He remembers from the old movies how they would do it. One jump off the tallest building in town. He was on the tallest building in the biosphere. The taller the better. No pain. No extended suffering. Three, two, one and you’re a red splotch at the center of the pavement. People would barely notice and then keep moving on about their daily lives.

He stands at the ledge of the citadel ready to take the plunge. He gets distracted by an imaginary life -- a normal life void of stealth or trickery. Filled with normalcy. He has a distinct vision: a pale face, draped in luscious black hair, leaning in to kiss him. He knows it is a dream but can’t help but wonder if it could be something more. But then that dream is snatched away by screams -- old and young -- reaching from the grave.

They make his decision for him. He must jump. Three, two -- but his thoughts get interrupted by a whirring ball of red light darting into his line of vision. He tries to swat the cursed thing out of his way, but it artfully dodges his blows several times.

Finally, Fenwick comes to the realization that it is a hailing beacon. One of the peskiest things in the biosphere. The electronic equivalent of mosquitos. Or more like flying rats, Fenwick thought. Fenwick mentally curses. Now he is too annoyed to be suicidal. This thing is not going to shut up, he tries to escape it. To shoo it away.

I’m not answering, he tells himself, it’s probably a telemarketer.

But then a renegade thought breaks into his mind almost as if someone else put it there.

What if it’s Codex?

Fenwick closes his eyes tightly and curses for good measure before sputtering out the words, “Open communications” exactly as if it’s a vile invective.

Sure enough, the face that beams above the ball of light is Codex. Features so pronounced, one would think he was specially crafted for a life of aristocracy. 

He always opens with the one word that is certain to crumple Fenwick’s face, “Son.”

Despite not being his son, Fenwick oddly never challenges this title -- because he knows he sees Codex as a father figure. He just wishes he didn’t.

“You weren’t about to commit suicide again, were you?” Codex says dismissively.

They both know the answer so Fenwick cuts to the chase, “What the hell do you want?”

“I just have one more job for you. Before you kill yourself, of course,” obviously, Codex never believed Fenwick’s threats of suicide. They were always a bit of a joke to him. 

However, it is no joke to Fenwick. He opens his mouth to object. But it is too late. The message flickers off and Codex knows his “son” will not refuse him.

****

One hour later, Fenwick has a determined stride as he marches through the bio-sensitive double doors of Codex’s lovely mansion. Recognizing Fenwick’s biosignature, the doors that open automatically and Fenwick doesn’t even have to taper off his stride as he marches right up to Codex who is sitting in a throne-like chair in the middle of the atrium. 

Fenwick immediately comes to him and the words that have been hanging on his lips for one hour now just fly right out, “I came all this way to tell you to fuck off.”

Codex’s face barely reacts as he rests his cheek upon his fist, looking upon his son unimpressed. This enrages Fenwick even more. He continues, hoping to make his point clear.

“I’m tired of you calling me while I’m in the middle of shit. I’m tired of tracking down strangers in the middle of the night. I’m tired of all the killing. I won’t do it anymore.”

Codex’s expression still remains and his words come out as if he’s planned them from the beginning, “But you’re the best assassin in the land.”

“I’m the only assassin in the land!” Fenwick snaps.

Codex does not react in anger. He only rises from his throne -- a show a strength, perhaps. He walks past Fenwick toward the wine cabinet. Maybe giving Fenwick a chance to calm down.

This only makes Fenwick think more about his words.

“We have everything here. There’s no war. There’s no crime. Everyone enjoys their job except me. Outside of that... it’s a perfect world. A Shangri-la.” he says. And then he asks the question that has haunted him his whole life. The question left unanswered, “But why does a perfect world need an assassin?”

Instead of regular wine-glasses, Codex has ornate golden goblets. He pulls out two and a bottle of wine.

“Since the beginning of time,” Codex explains, “humans have strived for utopia, always failing. Do you know why?”

Fenwick doesn't answer. Only watches as Codex continues.

“They had their heads in the clouds thinking of fairy tales that they themselves concocted when they should have looked to nature. And every ecosystem has a need of blood,” he pours the deepest red wine Fenwick has ever seen into the goblets.

Continuing to speak, he carries the goblets back toward the throne, “From the Lion who hunts the antelope to the little daisy who grows from the dust of that antelope’s carcass.”

He offers one cup to Fenwick saying, “Life requires death.”

Fenwick refuses and says, “Not this life. Not anymore. I quit.”

He feels like a badass as he walks toward the door. Finally resisting the gravitational pull of Codex Binton. His heroic veneer shatters at the utterance of one question.

“What if I could make the voices stop?”

Fenwick -- to his shock, to his horror, to his dismay -- is frozen in his tracks. He turns with anger and a dash of curiousness in his gaze. Angry at the way Codex could always read his soul. Curious because Codex did indeed read his soul. He wanted to stop the voices.

“What are you talking about?” he asks ever so cautiously. 

“I’m talking about the memory machine. It takes your thoughts, worries, consciousness -- takes it out of your body and puts it back anew.”

“Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me?” Fenwick counters, unconvincingly.

He knows Codex was never one to lie to him -- was he?

“My high servant, Professor Krinick, has perfected the art of neuro-reconfiguration and can help you.” 

“Besides, what do you have to lose,” says Codex, drinking from both goblets now, “you either go back to your perch on the Plutonium Tower or you go on living a miserable existence, but it can’t be as miserable as it is now.”

Fenwick ponders trying to think of an existence more miserable than the one he now inhabits. More miserable than having to endure the constant blare of the screaming souls. Those snapshot views of the last moments of their lives -- eyes wide and pleading. Some deaths seem so far back, they appear as shadows. VIsions from another life. But even the faint remnants of those grieving souls, he’d give anything to forget. 

Fenwick’s thoughts have now wandered to whether this is a trick, but he knows it’s too late. Codex already has his attention and is stealthily slipping an electronic scroll into his hand. Fenwick’s passiveness becomes acceptance as he clutches the scroll before saying, “I’ll do it this one last time, but then you’ll wipe my memory clean and find another person to do your dirty work.”

Fenwick marches out the door with the same determination he came in with. Suddenly, this narrow mission takes on a more panoramic quality. His whole life before him, he leaves, as Codex and his high servant observe the oblivious rogue’s departure. 

“This will be the thirtieth time you’ve wiped his memory,” Krinick says. “That can’t be healthy for his mind.”

“He’ll be fine,” says Codex.

Krinick thinks a long time before finally asking,“You think he’ll recognize his ex-girlfriend?”

“Of course not,” Codex says assuredly, “we wiped away that memory completely.”

Just outside the door, Fenwick is activating the scroll. A screen appears before him in midair, flashing all of the stats of his target. Age, height, weight, next of kin, dental history. Beside the scrolling data is the picture of his target: a pale-skinned woman with jet black hair. Her name produces an ironic smirk on his face. It's Utopia Woods. 

Then for the briefest moment, Fenwick thinks she looks like the woman from his dreams. The ones that seem so real. And the smirk fades into wonder. Wonder at the possibility that his dreams of a normal life were real.

However, shaking off the notion, he regains his focus. He knows the only hope for a normal life is to achieve his mission. That mission: 

Track down Utopia.

Capture Utopia.

Kill Utopia Woods.