Dreamers

Wake up. Look at your alarm clock. Groan. Roll out of bed. Dress for work. Drop your kids at school. Work. Pick them up. Eat. Go to bed. Sound familiar at all?

           At Headquarters, we call it the Fake Cycle. The Fake Cycle is all to do with feelings. When you complete the Fake Cycle, you feel accomplished, but you’re not. You think you’re happy, but you aren’t. Because the Fake Cycle is just that- fake.

           When was the last time you read a book? I mean, a good book. The Wall Street Journal doesn’t count. Nor does anything you read for school or work. Have you recently just picked up a book and read for the sake of reading?

           Whatever happened to hot baths? The shower is more “practical”, I suppose. Faster, conserves water, and, again, makes you feel accomplished.

           What about star-gazing? Long walks that have nothing to do with burning calories? Trips to art museums, and not just to accompany your third grader on their field trip?

           When did our world lose sight of beauty? When did we decide that we were too busy living our lives to enjoy them?

           Well, as a matter of fact, I know exactly when. I’ll tell you- if you keep reading.

***

           A long time ago, there existed a village on the brink of an ocean, which was on the brink of the edge of the world. The village was called Amora. The people who lived there were very happy, and life looked very different for them than it does for you. Work was done for the sake of itself, because everyone knew how good work is. Children obeyed their parents because they longed to do good, not out of fear of punishment. That idealist institution known as “school” was simply called “Exploration” and consisted of children coming together to simply share their thoughts with one another.

           Each person was at school or work from nine until three, otherwise, you would be tired and unable to do our duty to your family, the highest priority. Afterwards, there was recreation. People rested when they were tired. Children played sports, not for the sake of glory or a resume, but for the fun that they had while they played them. Girls would walk in wildflower fields simply looking in awe of the flowers.

           But the nights were the most spectacular. Each night, there were concerts, plays, strolls in the park, music, and dancing. There was no fare for these things, so that participation was available to everyone. No one worried about staying out too late, because they didn’t have to be at work and Exploration until nine o’clock the next morning. They simply enjoyed the beauty.

           When the families arrived at home, they sat together and ate their final meal. They talked to one another about their day, and tried to be understanding, not competitive. Then, finally, everyone would take a hot bath, have a mug with cocoa or tea, and settle themselves in bed with a book until they fell asleep.

           Now, I happen to think this way of life infinitely superior to yours. No one ever worried back then, because they knew that the real purpose of life lay in the beautiful things, which wouldn’t be taken away. People were kinder to each other because there was no competition.

           Today, you miss so much. All the things today which are considered “childish” were perfectly normal back then. Rolling down hills, trying on clothes, playing in leaf piles. I miss those adventures terribly. And people avoid them now, because there’s “no point”. Why does there have to be a point to everything? Why can’t we just do things because we’d like to?

           Anyway, the world was thriving in this fashion. My father was the king of the world. He was a wonderful man, and he supported the people in their endeavors. For many, many years, he ensured that the people of the world were safe and protected. But, after a time, he began to age. Running the world exhausted him. Soon, it became unbearable, because everyone had so much excitement and zest and so many ideas.

           My father determined that he must make running the world easier on himself. No matter how my sister and I tried to persuade him, he refused to pass on the responsibility, convinced that no one else possessed the competence to perform adequately at his task. He realized that if he could only tell people how they ought to behave, without them questioning him, he would never have to settle any more disputes or convince anyone of the benefits of a new idea. And so, he enlisted help from a creature called “Efficiency”. With her, my father changed the course of history forever.

Efficiency was strong and obstinate. She was ruthless with her work. Anything that stood in her way was exterminated. First, she destroyed the books, leaving to remain only such books as were deemed “educational”. Next, she put an end to concerts, theater, and music.

Efficiency was also a brilliant inventor. She first initiated the alarm clock jolting people awake, exhausted and bleary-eyed, so that not a single moment of the workday would be lost. While the creator of countless evil items, Efficiency’s greatest masterpiece was a phenomenon known as “weight loss”. Weight loss’s primary purpose was to cause insecurity in the hearts of the people, forcing them to rely more on Efficiency to dictate what they ought to eat, wear, and do. Family strolls in the park, potluck meals, and comfortable clothes were all sacrificed on the altar of weight loss.

That was only the beginning.

Efficiency had two sisters, Practicality and Ease, who were soon summoned by the king to aid Efficiency in her work. Ease was the youngest. She quickly brought to life the car, which would allow people to commute to work without breaking a sweat. She created the TV dinner, and families began eating off their knees in front of the TV screen, not bothering to talk with one another. Ease inspired a spirit of sloth in the hearts of the people of Amora, teaching them to always choose the simplest path.

Practicality was the eldest sister, ruthless and angry. Whereas Ease and Efficiency would create new things, Practicality only destroyed. She tore down small shops, and factories were enacted in their place. Rocking chairs were burned, churches were done away with, and school and work hours were lengthened considerably.

***

And so, the Society of Dreamers was formed. As a matter of fact, my sister founded it, and I was the first secretary. Outraged with our father for what he had done, the society’s original purpose was to exact revenge upon he and the Destruction Sisters, as they were called. However, soon, we were joined by many other members, who convinced my sister to use the society to try and combat the evil, not the people.

           We dreamers were a tiny collection of odd people. But we were made of strong material. We frequently stood outside stores, talking to shoppers about their purchases, trying to reason with angry passerby. A handful of us even went door to door, pulling people out of the world of TV dinners and motorcars. We would appear at weight loss planning sessions, trying to inspire confidence in the people we found there.

           We were hunted by my father and the Sisters. They had a blacklist, and they killed upon capture.

***

           Gathered in a basement under the house of the head treasurer, Lily Clara, we waited for her to speak to us. She paced back and forth across the floor, and finally turned to us and declared, “I’m leaving.”

           We all stared at her blankly a moment.

           She went red. “I am, alright?” she said defensively. “It is dangerous for me to stay here- hunted, barely even living. For what, I ask you? No, no-” she put up her hand to silence my sister’s attempts to speak. “Don’t anyone dare try to talk me out of it. My mind is made up. Carlos agrees with me. He’s packing now. We leave tomorrow at nightfall.”

           Silence. Then one of the men, Antony, stood. He looked at Lily Clara intently and then spoke quietly. “Does Carlos need help with your luggage?”

           Lily Clara looked startled. “Um… I-I’m not sure… I- you could ask, I suppose…”

           Carlos nodded and made his way up the stairs without another word.

           My sister made her way over to Lily Clara. She first embraced her, then held out her hand. “Thank you for your service, Lily Clara.”

           Lily Clara’s eyes watered. She pulled herself out of my sister’s grasp and rushed from the room. I quickly followed.

           She was sitting on the floor of the hallway, wiping tears from her face. Seeing me, she held out her arms, and I hugged her.

           “Hey, Lily Clara, it’s alright. You have done wonderfully, and you’re right, it’s a dangerous job. You’ve nothing to feel sorry for.”

           “Oh, Angelica,” Lily Clara sniffed. “It’s not the danger. Carlos and I, we don’t mind it. It’s just that I-” her voice dropped. “I’m pregnant.”

           My eyes widened. “Oh, I see.”

           She smiled a watery smile. “So, you realize why I can’t stay. Raise my children here? Here? No, I will not.”

           I nodded and smiled. “I admire that, Lily Clara, I really do.”

           Back in the room, my sister was addressing the group. “Lily Clara has raised a concern that I know many of you possess. And I would like to publicly state that, if anyone, for any reason, should see fit to leave the Society, they are perfectly free to go, and will not be met with any judgment or scorn.”

           There was an awkward pause. Then, I watched four or five men and women make their way over to her. Each spoke quietly to her for a moment, then she shook each one of their hands and said, “Thank you for your service.”

           When they had all left, there remained only six of us in the room. My sister leaned over the table in frustration. “Six members,” she muttered. “What can we do with six members!” She threw down her papers in frustration.

           I went to her. Turning her body so that she faced me, I waited until she met my eyes. “We’ll keep going,” I declared.

           She looked into my eyes skeptically. “How? We have six members! We can’t do anything with that few people.”

           Her words were moving. Despair surged through me, taking all my hope and determination. I turned to look at our remaining group, and a strange sensation came over me. I was suddenly filled with a deep, bubbling joy. I knew and loved each one of them, dearly. And they loved me and each other. I understood something, then. I understood that we could do this. These people, this cause, this unity. We could bring hope to the people of Amora. “Why not?” I smiled. “We’re dreamers, aren’t we?”