Halcyon Days

Part 1: Memories of a lost night

There must have been times in your life when u felt anger, such unreasonable and uncontrollable anger that you wanted to destroy everything around you. I don’t get these kinds of feelings. It was one of the reasons why they selected me. They said I was an emotionally balanced person; not so long ago I used to believe that. Now, before I forget, let me tell you who I am. My name is NAMSSIN222901, Grade 8. I used to have a birth name like everyone else, but it was a long time ago. Now I am only a Grade 8 officer in the "Surveillance and Intelligence Network (SIN)" working with the department of "Nuclear Arms and Missiles Systems". This is classified information and I am not supposed to tell u this. But it does not matter now, because tomorrow… there will be no tomorrow.

I had already graduated from the high school, when I saw an ad by the army calling young men and women to join the army and serve the state. By the time, the physical tests in the army camp were over; I had the all too familiar feeling of being left behind. I completed the aptitude test and returned home. I had almost forgotten about this fiasco when I got a letter from the army. It said that I have been selected for the second round and my interview will be held in the NAMS block. I called them up to check if there was some mistake and the officer at the other end rudely replied that army personnel do not make mistakes and hung up. So when I reached this NAMS block, I was surprised to see only 20 people there. They all seemed nervous, so I guessed they must be here for the same interview. Soon we were joined by an officer, who said something about secret agencies, covert operations and spies. I inferred that he was talking about NAMS. By the time it was evening, we had gone through numerous tests. I was hoping that it would all end and I can go home. The officer who had given the introduction in the morning came back and announced that they had selected 4 people out of the 21. The first name that he called out was mine. That was the last time I heard someone call me by my birth name.

The 6 months training period that followed was rigorous. By the end of the term, I was NAMSSIN222901. The first four numbers denote the year of joining, 2229. The next two digits signify that I was ranked no.1 in my batch. At that time I was surprised by the result, but all along, they knew it would happen. Later I was to know that my ES (Emotional Stability) test score during the interview was an all time high in the history of NAMS. As a result, I was posted in Sector 3 of State Asia, which at the turn of the millennium was called Russia. They said it was a difficult job and they wanted the best for the job. I was pleased with my posting. But that was then, things have changed now. The long night is about to end now……
The shrill sound of the siren echoed through the compound. It indicated the start of the night shift. I could see day shift people going out. They waved each other goodbye. Of course, no one waved at me. I was not supposed to have any kind of social contact, they knew that and so they avoided me. These people were going home to sleep, sleep….. now it seems a strange and alien term. During the first week of training, we were given an injection. They told us that it was to help us remain alert at all times. That night I could not sleep, nor could any of my classmates. Later, we realized it was a sleep deprivation drug. Now, we are addicted to it. I already take 2 injections a week and I don’t sleep.

I have dreams though. Not the usual kind of sleeping dreams. I dream with my eyes open. I dream of a day, when I can go back home. But I am not supposed to dream. We were taught that dreams are a sign of emotional instability and we were taught to ignore dreams. They said we are to ignore our emotions; reason should be our only emotion. But I don’t follow reason now. I don’t care now…

As the night progressed, a feeling of uneasiness caught hold of me. They had said that it was 3 times more likely for the enemy to attack at night than at day, so I had long since associated night with danger. I was now staring at the RADAR intensely. Through the corner of my eyes, I could see the Green Button, which I was to use to inform the other stations, in case of an attack. Besides that was the Red Button. In ancient times, red was associated with danger. The tradition had continued to this day. Using the Red Button, I could launch a nuclear missile to anywhere in the world, anywhere… and this was the Button, which made my job so important, so important that I had to stay here. I could never go home again…

There was another dream about which I did not tell you. It is not exactly a dream; it is more of a wish. Sometimes in the death of night, sitting in front of my computer watching the radar, I have this strong urge to press the Red Button. I know the consequences. Europe, aghast at our action, will join America. Together they will declare war on Asia, ignoring the desperate appeals of Asia that it was the work of one mad man. The State Africa will join us; there was some medieval agreement, which binds Africa to us. There will be major war, something like the World Wars of the medieval times, which was taught to us in schools. Only this time there will be no one left to read about this. The war will lead to the complete destruction of the 4 States. These are not my predictions. Our scientists, using some obscure maths, have come to a conclusion, along the same lines.

So you see, I have the power to destroy the world but I don’t have the power to just go home like the others. Soon it will be time for the night shift people to go home and I will be still here. There is no end to this madness. It goes on and on. People always go home and they are happy about it. And I just sit here, watching them leave. And then they reach home, and I am still here. They eat dinner cooked by the loving hands of their wife, and I am still hungry. They tuck their kids into bed and kiss them goodnight, and I am still lonely. They fall asleep in the arms of their wife, and I am still awake… and I am still here.

My whole mind was screaming that it was not the right thing to do, but it does not matter, as long as they are asleep and I am awake.
I saw myself pressing the Red Button, sealing the fate of the world. With the sound of the morning siren, the poison tablet was starting to take effect and I was falling asleep and I was home… at last I was home.

Part 2: The Hero

My dad used to say that the State needed Heroes, Heroes to guide people, to lead people, to fight in ‘The War’ and to give their lives for the State. Every evening after the visiplate news, father would sit with his friends, smoking his pipe, and they would talk about ‘The War’ and Heroes. After a few hours, they would all be drunk and they would fight till the early hours of morning till they disperse, each one swearing that the State needs heroes. My father was no hero though. He was merely a clerk in The War office and he died in a streetfight, when I was 12. The official report was that my father wanted the other person to acknowledge that he was a Hero, but the person stabbed him with a knife and ran off saying that not my father, but he was a Hero. But who can blame him, such are the times that we live in.

It all started 30 years ago. An officer named NAMSSIN222901, Grade 8, tried to bribe our State into giving him a huge sum of money. When the State did not comply, he launched a nuclear missile on State US, thereby triggering ‘The War’. It is said that his intention behind this act was the destruction of all the States. But during the early days of the conflict, it was mutually agreed by both sides that nuclear arms would not be used in the war. With the use of nuclears, the States would not have survived even a year of war. But after 30 years of pain and suffering, it now seems it would have been better if the World had ended that day.

30 years of ‘The War’ has changed everything. Not that I know about it, I was born after ‘The War’ started. But old people used to say that there was a time, when there was no war, there was enough food, everyone was happy, people did not go around killing other people, and stabbing each other in the back. It must have been a good time to live in, with no fear of hunger, death or disease. But I find it hard to imagine such a world, it must have been perfect.

After my father died, I decided that I would become a real Hero, one who fights in ‘The War’, not like my dad who only used to talk about heroes. I grew up in my aunt’s house and by the time I was 16, I was ready to join The Forces. The selection was tough. Everyone wanted to be a Hero, but not everyone was suited for this job. As I saw the dejected looks on the faces of the rejected candidates, I could see my father’s anguish, at not being a hero, in their eyes. I could see their future, they would spend their days in the War office filing reports and their nights, getting drunk and dreaming of being a hero, a dream that they knew will never be fulfilled.
But I was selected. During my days with my aunt, I met a War veteran. He taught me a lot, helped me build my body, hone my fighting skills and develop leadership skills. He was a good teacher, but he never talked about ‘The War’. At the slightest mention of the word, he used to get infuriated and I knew that was the end of that days training. Once, at night he was drunk and I asked him about ‘The War’, he started crying and asked me to not join the Forces. The next morning, when I brought up this subject, he said that he did not remember anything. We resumed the training and I forgot about the incident. So under the able guidance of this man, I was ready for the Forces.

'The War’ was nearing towards its conclusion. In my 3 years in ‘The War’, I had fought many battles and won many accolades. I was made the Commander of the Armed Forces of Sector-3, the Russia of olden days, and here we were making a last stand. That night I called the officers to my office. They could all barely fit into my tiny office. I said, "Tomorrow is going to be the last day of this battle. If we lose tomorrow, then we lose the War and if anyone of you is unlucky enough to stay alive after tomorrow, then he will see his house burned to ground, his family killed, his city annihilated and the State destroyed. It is easy to be afraid because of the odds stacked against us and the consequences facing us. But this is the chance that we have been waiting for all our lives; this is our chance to be a Hero. We will all be Heroes tomorrow."
"We will all be dead tomorrow." a voice called out from the back. He came forward and said, "Do you not know about the Juda’s curse?"

Juda’s curse, I knew about that alright. Juda, as NAMSSIN222901, Grade 8, was commonly known, was posted in Sector 3, when he launched that fateful missile. It was widely believed that the villain Juda had cursed this place. We had lost every battle fought in Sector 3 and the soldiers knew that we were going to lose the final battle too and that will be the end. I realised that the situation was hopeless, the officers were dejected and the soldiers dispirited. It was not that we were grossly outnumbered. Afters years of fighting even the enemy ranks were much depleted, they were only 2 to each 1 of us and that was in no way going to be decisive. But with the present melancholic despondency in our troops, even the modest enemy forces seemed liked a massive army.

I had to raise the moral of our troops. I had to work a miracle. I had to be the Hero that I always wanted to be. This was my last stand. I told them stories taken from mythology, of about how a mythical race called Spartans with 300 men defended a pass from a million barbarians for 3 days. I told them about how a child named David fought against the giant Goliath and defeated him. I asked them to remember that they are the descendants of the Spartans and the children of David.

But it was to no avail, I could see their gloomy eyes and their downtrodden faces conveyed the story. I could sense the hopelessness of our situation in the fug of my office. It engulfed me and I felt that I was about to cry. There was only one thing that I could do now.

I knew it was time to reveal a secret, a secret which I have been hiding since long, a secret which even I was ashamed to admit. The secret had the power to turn the tide of ‘The War’; it could carry us to a triumphant victory or lead us to an ignominious defeat. Such was the power of the words that I was going to say that I vacillated. I tried to put together all the inchoate ideas into a logical set of sentences.

After much hawing I finally said, "I have a secret which I have to share with all of you."
The soldiers started murmuring, I ignored them and continued, "30 years ago, in 2229 A.D. to be precise, a young officer was enlisted in NAMS. He was the best officer that NAMS had ever seen. But his love for NAMS and the State could not match his love for his family. He was in love with his wife and his unborn child. He longed to see them, but he was a Grade 8 officer, so obviously he was denied permission to visit them. So one night, under the influence of a sleep deprivation drug, he did the unthinkable. He launched a nuclear missile and the rest is history."

The whispers grew louder. I said," He did not want any money; it was the State’s version. But how do I know all this? Well before dying, he sent a letter to his wife. The letter said that he had committed a grave sin and that he could never forgive himself for this sin. And he made a request in that letter, he asked his unborn child to correct his sins. So, before dying he promised a Hero to the State, a Hero who will lift the Juda’s curse and bring victory to this cursed land. And that Hero is me; I am the Son of Juda and in confrontation with me the Juda’s curse will fail…"

I don’t know how much effect my speech had on the soldiers, but the next day they fought like Heroes. By the evening, we had repelled the last regiment of the alliance of State US and Europe. It would be months before they can raise an army big enough to invade again. We had won the war, for now at least. I was declared a Hero of the State along with many of my fellow soldiers.
T

hat night, standing in the battlefield and looking at the chaos, destruction, misery and death around me, I realised that there are no real Heroes here.
I had once read a story about a boxer who threw away his medal, for which he had struggled immensely, because he realised that the values that he had fought for were an illusion. My medal reminded me of that story and I threw away my most prized possession, the medal. Being Hero did not mean anything to me now. I was only a Survivor now.

The ‘Age of the Hero’ was over and sooner the people realize that, the better. As for me, I am just happy that my stepfather died without having to face the harsh truth that there are no Heroes. It is very agonizing to realise that the only hope that keeps you going through life, is an illusion. The ‘Age of the Hero’ was over and The ‘Age of the Survivor’ was beginning.

As I spend my last days in the solitude of my forsaken bunk, my prognostication is taking tangible shape. Six months after our last stand, State US, perhaps frustrated by our dogged resistance, started the nuclear war. They had grossly undervalued our resources and tenacity and were hoping for a quick and decisive victory. But as the nuclear war escalated, both sides suffered colossal losses. We were witness to annihilation on a scale incomparable to anything the world had ever seen, destruction unlike anything that will ever be repeated. In the aftermath of the nuclear holocaust that followed, very few survivors remained. Civilization, in the form that we used to know, was completely destroyed. People moved away from the cities, most of which had radiation beyond danger levels and started living in caves and forests. The shortage of almost everything precipitated by the 30 year war was now gaining massive proportions. People started living like savages and killing each other at will.

While most of the human population perished in this way, those of us who were left behind and still had some shred of sanity left in them, decided to start on a journey aboard the ‘Phoenix’. It was a journey to save the humanity. It was a journey to preserve all that was once good in this world. It was a journey for survival. It was a journey lead by the ‘Survivors’.


Part 3: End of Utopia

Utopia: An imaginary or hypothetical place or state of things considered to be perfect; a condition of ideal (esp. social) perfection.

I never knew dying would be this easy. I can see death approaching but I am glad to hear its footsteps. Maybe it is because there is no one waiting for me. Actually people are waiting to hear from me but they are just nameless, faceless entities to me. After my parents died due to radiation overdose during one of our Outside trips, I have been lonely. I was looked after by foster parents. They were good people, took good care of me but I never had the feeling of being a part of family, while living with them. They were not my real family.
I made the last recording a few days ago and ate my last food packet yesterday. The drinking water will run out by tonight. I will wait for a day or two and if the pain is too much to bear, I have the pill. I have heard that taking the pill puts you to sleep, a long peaceful sleep. I am ready now….

The only regret that I have is I will miss the ‘End of Utopia’. There are still sceptics who believe in Utopia, but the popular opinion is fast turning to our side. Already the first groups of settlers are getting ready to come here. Soon there will be more and more people coming here, leaving behind Utopia. And that will be the end of Utopia, the end which I so avidly await and the end to which I have contributed a great deal.
I never believed in Utopia. It placed too many restrictions on us. We were never free inside Utopia. Others have adjusted to this fact but I always had a feeling of being suffocated inside the thick composite walls of Utopia. So I rejoiced the prospect of going to the Outside, once in a while. It was a passion that I had inherited from my parents. My father was an influential person, so he could obtain passes to go Outside, but it was a practice frowned upon and looked at suspiciously by others. Nevertheless, we used to go on our trips and they were the best times of my life. The sun shining above us, the feeling of wind brushing against my face, my hair and the endless expanse of land all around us, no words could do justice to the utter sense of bliss that I experienced during those trips.
These trips brought me closer to one of my other passions, flying.

I was always enthralled by the flight of the birds soaring high above us in the sky. I used to run behind these birds with my arms wide open, hoping that I will flap my hands and will soar into the sky, just like these birds. I had also read about the ancient flying objects called aeroplanes and how they used to take people to the skies. Of course, there were space shuttles but they were computer controlled, it was just too risky to send a person into the sky. After the infamous nuclear bombing of State US circa 2235 AD, and the subsequent war of 30 years ending in a full fledged nuclear war circa 2265 AD, armies were deemed illegal by the Council City States that were formed subsequently. In the process, flying was also made illegal and out of bounds.
Missiles could easily be detected and destroyed, but aeroplanes with their stealth were a different matter all together. They could easily drop nuclear bombs on cities without detection. As a result of the nuclear phobia prevalent in those times, aeroplanes were banned and destroyed in every sector across the world.
Later nuclear shields were developed and all the survivors of the nuclear war were gathered together in enclosed City-States, collectively known as Utopia. With the nuclear shields in place, now there was no danger from the aeroplanes but the taboo still remained firmly in place. As for me, although it was considered sacrilege to even talk about flying and aeroplanes, I wanted to fly.

I knew some of the influential people in the Council through my father. So I easily obtained the permit to collect aeroplane memorabilia, including spare parts. Using my limited engineering knowledge, which I had egregiously lacked during my schooling, I somehow managed to make an aeroplane. I called it ‘pleomakhos’ as aeroplane was still a derogatory term. I could always get passes for the Outside. So I used my time in testing the pleomakhos. I had read a story of an ancient hermit called Wright, who made the first flying machine and his machine could only stay afloat for only few seconds and that it was dangerous. My pleomakhos was more reliable, it was built from the scrap of a jet fighter and I knew that it could get up to whatever height I wanted it to go to. It was, after all, the same model that people used to go to the lunar settlement.

It was the same lunar settlement, where I was breathing my last. It is abandoned, of course, ever since 2265 AD. I am the first person to come here in over 200 years, so in a way I feel as if I own this place. However the initial sense of euphoria at coming here has died down. Now there is only an oppressive silence, a silence which like darkness engulfs everything in sight.
But I am a happy man. In the last transmission from Earth, I was hailed as a Hero and in this age of community living, not many can claim that particular title. In a few months time, my Lunar Settlement will be teeming with people and the Space Age will again commence, like a new Renaissance, a renaissance born out of the death of an older order, the order of Utopia.

It is night. The thought of taking the pill and ending it all right here and now has crossed my mind a few times but I have resisted. It may be easier to die but it is a lot more difficult to kill yourself. I see the welcome arms of sleep take me and I gladly comply, snug in the relative comfort of knowing that I have spent a good life.

I open my eyes. It is bright outside. I see people in white overflowing gowns running around me. They seem to be busy doing something, no one is talking. I have a slight headache which intensifies as I try to recollect where I am. Suddenly it all starts to make sense, I must have died and this is heaven. The moment I say all this in my mind, it sounds as absurd as it sounded sensible a moment ago. I look around. No one seems to notice that I am awake. I am prepared to wait. I always loved dreams and this is turning out to be one of the most exciting. So I wait, I do not want this suspense to end soon. Before long, I am taken to what I presume is a waiting room. This room, like is first one, is painted white. Even the bed on which I sit is covered with spotless white bed-sheet. The chairs beside the bed are also white. Even the gown I am wearing is white, spotless white. The design is minimalist.

A door opens, silently. A man walks in. I try to decipher his countenance; is he angry, is he happy. Who are these people and what do they want from me. I receive no answers.
He says, "From Earth you come, I see." His accent is strange, not to speak of the grammar. A faint smile passes through my lips.
I say, "Yes, I have come from Earth." Inspite of my overwhelming curiosity, I figure that I should let him do the asking.
He mumbles something. "Brother, you are to me. Earth is where, we are from. Long ago, we came."
I ask, "Is this a dream?"
He says, "Dream, what is, I know not." It seems they have forgotten how to dream. But I am happy, nevertheless at the curious turn of events and at the fact that I am still alive.
"Phoenix, the ship, we came here on. More than 200 years, it has been. A good time but I say you come. Phoenix II, the ship, ready it is. Going out into the space, to the stars, it is. Invite you, I will, to join us in this monumental journey." He says.
Between sobs, I say, "Join you, I will." I noticed that my grammar was wrong; I was becoming one of them.

The settlers from Earth will be in for a major surprise when they come here. I plan on not telling them all this. As for me, I am going to the stars. The ‘Space Age’ has begun…