Malcontent

Who was Oliver Hamilton? Of course, he is I, I found myself remembering vaguely as I rode the same trolley I did every morning. The same trolley, in fact, that everyone from the Enforcer housing block rode on their 6:15 commute to work. I stood tall and straight just as everyone else, wore the same black suit as everyone else, and wore the same featureless white Mask as everyone else. And, just like everyone else, I didn’t bat an eye when the man standing just three feet away from me began to convulse and collapsed.

The Contentment did that at times, I thought to myself but a small puff from aerosolized gas quickly whisked the thoughts away with it; Contentment, pure, pressurised, and required for life inside the A-13 dome. However, as the minutes stretched on and the man continued to seize a weird feeling began to invade my chest. It was a tight sensation, something I had never experienced before (or at least I couldn’t recall ever experiencing) but I was momentarily comforted when I heard the faint hiss of my Mask as it released yet another dose of the Contentment to counteract the Feeling.

… Or so I had thought. Despite the hiss there was a distinct lack of relief, of the faint bitterness on my lips that came with the spray. With no relief from the Contentment the Feeling intensified, constricting my chest. Who was this man? Was he me? Might as well be. I was dying, looking at myself as the other mes watched. Then the man stopped, lying still, but my heart refused to follow the same order. Why?

The trolley followed the fallen man’s order and stopped but Oliver, I, was unaware until the others began to disembark, shuffling past me in a wave that swept me along. It wasn’t until I was inside the Central Office that I realized I hadn’t been breathing. Gasping, deep and loud, a few of the faceless other mes, other workers, turned to look at me for just a moment then went about their business as the rush of air filling my lungs only served to re-constrict them.

Conscious of my posture for the first time in my life I squared my shoulders and made my way towards the elevator. Where was my Contentment? Why was my Mask not working? I could feel my pulse thumping intrusively against my shirt’s collar and suddenly my necktie felt too tight. Again I heard my Mask’s canister release but again I received no relief. Then I saw the message, a reminder of a meeting with my section’s Regulator, flash across the eyes of my Mask and finally felt my heart still. Late! I couldn’t be late!

Taking another deep breath I gathered myself. This Feeling had to be squashed before I met with my Regulator! Each step down the silent hallway towards the door marked ‘Regulator H-93’ felt like an eternity and I was unsure how long I stood motionless outside her door before I managed to bring myself to grab the doorknob. In my panic, I admit, I forgot my manners and pushed the door open without announcing my presence with a knock.

Red. Plush red lips parted in surprise and wide green eyes met me, so unlike the blank white Mask that normally inhabited the office. The woman straightened quickly, grabbing for her Mask and once again becoming Regulator H-93.

“Enforcer O-29, you are exactly three minutes late,” she started, a faint something in her voice the Contentment should have made me oblivious to but it captured my attention so handily that I was unable to respond for several seconds and simply stared at her as if I had never seen her before; had I though?

She was a small woman, neat mahogany hair pulled into the same tidy updo that every woman inside the Dome wore behind their Mask. My heart began to pound again. Thoughts, memories of the glimpse of her face just moments before carried me away from the present only to be forcefully pulled back when the door clicked closed behind me.

“Is your Mask malfunctioning?”

Of course! Malfunction! I was an Enforcer, I knew even as a Regulator she’d be unable to report me as Malcontent if she found an issue with my Mask!

“A… Ah,” I cleared my throat, a by-product of underuse. “Yes ma’am. It is not dispensing correctly. I fear I am behind on my dosing.”

Even with it being the truth I felt… embarrassed? My chest hurt. Regulator H-93 stared at me for a moment before she reached for my face, my Mask, and I flinched. Under her breath, almost as if the words were not meant for me but for someone else, I heard her murmur.

“It is alright, Oliver, just let me see you.”

As the Mask fell away colors flooded my vision, once dulled through the eyes of the Mask. What had once been muted browns and blues now popped in beautiful contrast. Light through the vibrant velvet curtains of her office window nearly blinded me and I found myself longing to see her face again, sure the colors I had seen there couldn’t possibly have been brighter but sure I would be just as blinded.

Stupidly, I mumbled, “who?”

A noise I had only heard recreated in lectures about the barbarians who lived outside the dome, that used to instill fear even through the Contentment, came from her; laughter.

“You,” she tittered as she laid my face, my Mask, upon her desk. I let out a simple sound before my most recent desire was fulfilled and she removed her own Mask once more to lay it beside mine. I took a moment to marvel at how similar they were in size. Foolishly, I had expected it to be much smaller like a child’s hand beside an adult’s. Standing beside my own towering height her diminutive statue would surely make us appear as a child and adult, and I was sure our hands together would appear as such.

When her eyes met mine all poetic thoughts of our differences were whisked away and replaced by the intense urge to once again hide behind my Mask as she stared at my face, a face I couldn’t even recall. In that moment I felt the need to defend myself, though from what I couldn’t be sure.

“Regulator H-93,” I began but she cut me off, my eyes drawn to the movement of her red lips.

“Holly.”

“Who?” I asked, successfully derailed.

“Me,” she answered and bared her teeth like an animal, a smile! Why was it beautiful?

“Oh.”

“Oliver,” Holly spoke to me, as myself. “I see the problem. How do you feel?”

What kind of question was that? I knew what I was supposed to say, I’d even heard it from the Masks of Malcontents I’d enforced upon in the past, but I was not Malcontent! I couldn’t be! Before I could remember the right answer again the truth came out.

“I don’t know…” but I shouldn’t know, I shouldn’t have felt anything but Content. To feel anything else was to be Malcontent. Regula… Holly paused, hands in my Mask and my heart paused with her. The pause was brief but she continued her work in silence and in that moment I knew I was lost.

As the moments ticked on I let my eyes wander, lingering on what I could see of Holly’s face before I began to wonder what my own face must look like. Why couldn’t I remember? I must see it every morning before I put on my Mask. 

I don’t remember approaching her but I suddenly found myself very close to her; I could smell flowers. When she looked at me, her lips gently parted, I found myself taken with an urge I had only heard the insane and Malcontent ramble about. In her eyes I saw worlds that logic dictated could not exist, worlds where she and I were together as one. Luckily, Holly set her tool (I don’t remember the tool) aside and returned my Mask.

“I have corrected the issue but it might take some time to take full effect,” Holly explained blandly. It was only then, with that brief moment of normalcy, that the oddness of my visit struck me. I had been so concerned with the appearance of my own actions I had failed to take in the gravity of hers, the smiling and laughing. Was she…? But she continued. “Shall I write an appointment ticket for the Clinic for you?”

“Ah, yes!” I exclaimed, an unwelcome tug at the corners of my mouth. Of course! A Doctor! Surely they could give me my dose of Contentment and allow me, Enforcer O-29 that is, to return to the bliss of contentment and be found once more. Holly nodded, filling out the slip, then held it out to me. I then realized I had not replaced my Mask but had simply stood with it in my hands, gazing at her. She smiled at me again.

“Be sure you wear your Mask, Oliver. At least in public.”

I left in a hurry, before that smile could drive me mad. Looking at the specified Clinic on the ticket I grabbed a second trolley. 

Not working that day was an odd feeling, one I hoped to be rid of, but I had to remind myself that I was sick. While I had no physical ailments like the Enforcer sitting beside myself in the Clinic’s waiting room, attacked by a Malcontent and left with a broken arm, I was not able to work in my condition. Sitting there, appearing perfectly fine, I felt as if everyone was staring at me and my leg began to bounce just as the generic Clinic Worker appeared from the little doorway.

“Come on,” they said, waving a hand. At first I did not react, were they talking to me? When none of the Others moved I followed the Worker and was deposited into yet another waiting room, instantly uneasy. Something was gnawing at my stomach.

“Do you not need my name?” I asked without thinking. Did the Contentment normally keep me quiet or was I always so stupid?

“Does it matter?” The Worker responded, voice void of malice but it only fueled my irritation. “Who are you but We and We but Workers?”

For the first time that day my malfunctioning brain and body cooperated and I remained silent. The Worker left me alone with my unseeable illness to wait for the Doctor, fiddling with Holly’s ticket. Who was I? Was I me or was I We? The sound of the door opening pulled me from my thoughts and the Doctor appeared before me. He was tall, but I was sitting, and looking up at him I thought about Holly. Holding the ticket out to him he took it without a word and brought it close to his Mask.

“You are here for a Contentment issue? Odd, for an Enforcer,” he said, stepping up to me. I felt the need to move away but I could only lean back.

“There is an issue with my Mask.”

“Is there?”

In that moment I felt panic, a true panic that seized every muscle and told me the temperature had suddenly dropped to a frigid 30˚ in spite of the 72˚ displayed prominently on the wall screen alongside the time. Without warning he grabbed my Mask with a single hand and pulled it away. I wasn’t sure what my face looked like, I imagined it (as best I could) contorted in the same position as my upside down stomach. Luckily, he was disinterested and simply stared at the inside of my Mask, at the carefully planned mechanics that governed my everyday life. 

“Mm, there is no issue here. It would seem Holly has done her work,” the Doctor said. The use of Holly’s name struck me. Who was she but We? He returned my Mask to me. “I will prescribe to you some bed rest for the day, to let your body adjust. In the morning you will return to her to make sure the matter is handled, alright?”

“There is no exam?” I asked breathlessly.

“How do you feel, Oliver?”

I didn’t answer, I couldn’t, and simply stared at him. He nodded. 

“Take a moment to clean up, you’re quite a sight, then get some rest. Things will be right in the morning,” the Doctor left, closing the door behind him and for the first time I noticed a mirror above the sanitary sink. 

It wasn’t large but it was crystal clear and I could finally see my face. Disheveled brown hair falling from the regulation combed style, high cheekbones, square jaw, and blue eyes staring back at me. Was that me? … or was that We? Surely, there was but I there, and I cannot be We. The realization hounded me the entire ride home. The midday trolley was nearly empty, normal people were at work I told myself, but I am unsure if it would have mattered if it had been packed like a preapproved dinner. 

Inside my apartment I followed the same routine I did every day, taking off my suit jacket, my shoes, and my tie. Then, as if automatically, my hands moved to my Mask and I froze. I never took my Mask off when I got home. The only approved times to be without one’s Mask was during sleep so why…? But still, I pulled and a strange sense of disconnection came over me, one I hadn’t felt earlier.

My apartment, my world that had been preapproved for me, came into color and I found myself dissatisfied with it. This area was mine, this was what our Governor told us, so why was it preapproved? The thought scared me, the thought of a Malcontent. Was that me?

 Looking at my Mask, the Mask of Enforcer O-29 and every other worker, I remembered my face. Which one was me? Who was I? I felt heat sting my eyes as the answer became clear and I set the Mask aside, lowering myself into the same armchair I did every evening as I waited for the approved eating time just in time for the heat to spread down my face. I am Oliver Hamilton and I am Malcontent.