Saturday, June 12, 2010


Reassignment (in four)


God help me if someone is reading this…

 I can’t tell you how long I’ve been here or even where this is. Only that it’s been years.  I counted the days and nights, until there wasn’t a reason to anymore. Just over three years, 1100 days that I counted. Reminding myself that I would be able to return to my old life and family - a beautiful wife, Ana with her golden hair and two beautiful children, a son and daughter -  has kept me going. Those days spent in the summers beneath the old oak tree watching the children play. Sun dancing in Ana’s golden hair as her green eyes looked upon them. Wondering if the suffering will ever come to an end and I’ll see them again.

If you’re reading this small note of mine, please help me. I beg you. Send them a message. Tell them I’m alive and miss them everyday. We live on the edge of the southern province in a modest home. Ask them not to worry. News or papers must have reported something about me. There were reports of others missing in the previous weeks. From my memory, the sick and elderly were the first to disappear. Unexplained absences from loved ones without word. Then, there were the missing person’s reports of random men, women and children vanishing into thin air. Followed by unvaccinated students, infected prisoners and doctors like myself being imprisoned for medical violations. There must have been word of my capture.

I promise you I’m no fugitive. You would be abetting no crime. My only crime, being that I’m a carrier of a gene that is descended from an ancestor I’ve never met. A piece of history that reflects neither myself or my beliefs. This tiny piece of my genetic puzzle classifies me for reassignment into a living hell and grants an open invitation for experimentation to eradicate away my aberration. There isn’t much time. But you must understand I’ve committed no crime other than being myself. Like many others, existing is my punishment. An organized isolation to eliminate a part. Something that I take no note of is an affront to society. Please do not confuse my loyalties.

Understand that my work as a doctor was purely scientific in the pursuit of advancing humanity. Prior to my abduction, I’d been working on an alkalizing agent; a compound that was authorized for governmental jurisdiction. Nothing the common medical community would be using for many years. The implications were going to revolutionize the way man lives day to day. Yet trying to make the world a better place wasn’t good enough. I’m reassured through intermittent contact that my research has played a role in the better improvement of mankind. It’s a shame that I’ll never get to see its real world applications.

Please get word to my family. Do not tell them I suffer. Spare them the details. Send only my love and apologies for this absence. Thank you.

Alfred Greystone.


They tell me my name is #13-579.

I say call me Gregor. That’s the name my father used many years ago, when I was a young man. The name he’d use to call me when it was time to get up in the morning. But that’s so far ago, nearly eighty years in the past. Distant to everything that is before me.

The life left before me is short and filled with nothing more than a few breathes in retrospect of the existence I’ve lived. A much dimmer light shines now. But they can’t change what’s been. I’ve lived and pursued happiness. Hiding me from the world won’t change what I’ve experienced. Years spent in the military fighting for a world without war, traveling the paths of explorers, teaching my students about the importance of knowledge, married to a beautiful wife, and living in glorious color.

Years before I was a number, I was a good man living and earning a good life that I’m still proud of. Taught both of my sons and they’ve gone on to lead good lives; A Doctor and a Musician. Watching the world around me drift into a form of dreaming and slowly lack any desire to participate. All the knowledge acquired through thousands of books can not compare to the drilled in bits of trivia that lives in the broadcasting of information. Yet, the numbers of students continued to decline as more information streamed in. Claims that money is king, paramount to existence trumped the need for knowledge. With the education system failing I decided there had to be a way.

After the schools closed through lack of funding I was certain of my cause. Many years I spent educating from old warehouses, back alleys and street corners to anyone wanting or willing to listen. The law disagreed with this type of education. Trouble Making is what they said the first time I was cited for civil disobedience. Rebel Rousing for the second time, when the court ordered the immediate foreclosure on my home as payment for the fines. Disturbing the Peace was my third offense and cost me, my teaching credentials.  I never doubted my convictions. Knowing the importance of these beliefs and what it represented to my family. Every time before the court, I knew I was pleading for what I believed in.

Nearly fifty years after taking my license, my home and disgracing my name, they’ve imprisoned me. Calling me a number and trying to hide away my knowledge from the world. Dangerous is what they call me now; Fearful that I might tell the others about how it used to be. A world they say was crippled by sickness and a lack of technology. Sickness is meant to be overcome making the ailing stronger. Complete faith in technology cripples the mind.

Thankfully my dear wife has not lived long enough to see this day in a world where knowledge is outlawed. And I’m referenced like an old book. #13-579.



They tell me I can write you a letter. I get one phone call. But they said I can’t use that to talk to you. I don’t understand the rules. If you were my common law wife, then I could call. There’s no precedent for a man to call his companion. So I tell them there’s no one else to call. Thirty two days I’ve waited for execution, thinking of all the things I would say if given the chance.  And there’s no one to talk to. It won’t be long now so I know this will be a short message.

Michael, I’ve loved you always and haven’t known it enough to tell you every day. Every moment we’ve spent living together, like you say is making beautiful music. I couldn’t create the symphonies without you. You tell me that no other man has captured your heart as I. You have this man’s heart. Although we’ve lived on opposite sides of things somehow it always worked. Your role in the military somehow, brought order to my otherwise disorganized lifestyle. Understandably this hasn’t been an easy relationship. Our courtship hindered by the laws prohibiting civilians and soldiers from fraternizing. But we persevered; loving each other enough to handle the pressures of the world.

 Before I went into hiding, I knew that it would be unbearable without you. Had I known that it would be my own fault for our undoing, I would have left sooner. Knowing that I’m part of the enemy must be a betrayal to you. But I know now, it can’t be changed. They tell me this. After testing and research, they can strip away my genetic composition but aside from death, there’s no cure for this. They can change where I’ve been and what I’ve done. But you can’t change what a person is. No matter the offense to society. Dissect them. Pull at the pieces. My ancestors are part of me, as I carry a part of them. Successful reassignments are limited to altering a facial feature or minor re-programming of the mind.

 I’m an undesired piece. A leftover remnant of a past deemed to be inadequate. My life has never been inadequate. Especially my life spent with you. Despite what they tell you, you are never to think that.  I’m sorry for the fights. I didn’t understand the testing and monitoring or this need to be a better soldier. You were always….you had more than enough strength in my eyes.

The last piece of music on the table was for you. It wasn’t complete. A minor fugue in the key of B. I know the conditioning has changed your thought patterns, but hopefully this can provide a few moments of tranquility before you prepare for the next stage.

My work with music is important. Please continue to share it.

Michael, I’m sorry there isn’t time for more than this. I love you and this life we’ve chosen together was worth the risk.

Arthur Greystone.


Daddy, Daddy.

Where are you? It’s Saenna. Please, I’m scared.

Mommy says I can write to you here. Today’s the fifth of October. It’s been six months and the letters keep coming. Letters of support and encouragement filled with checks for money from your old job. The men on the TV said you went to help with the war, except the war never happened. Too many people left and didn’t come back. I’m keeping up with my lessons and I have so many questions for you. We aren’t allowed outside anymore. Mommy says the weather is getting cooler now, but I think there’s another reason for it. I miss you.

Daddy, when are you coming home? We need you.

It’s the twelve of January. Adam is sick and there’s a doctor living here. He isn’t a doctor like you. He has medicine and needles that are supposed to make it all better. But Adam isn’t getting better. It looks like he has a large red balloon in his face. Mommy won’t let me talk to Adam and the doctor makes me sit in the tea room quietly. I’m not allowed to take my lessons anymore. I have so many questions. The men on the TV aren’t sure where the missing people go and have stopped talking about it. There’s a new program about the… I have to go. They’re letting me see Adam. Come home soon.

Daddy, why aren’t you writing back? Are you punishing us?

They came for Mommy three weeks ago on April 3rd. She hasn’t returned. Mr. and Mrs. Heinichen are sitting with me until she returns home. Adam was moved to another hospital last month. There was no word on his condition until April 2nd. Mommy wouldn’t say. Something was wrong. The next day she was out the door and onto the next train. I think Adam is dead. I’m so scared. What if she doesn’t come back? I’ll be all alone. So many people are now. Children without families; that was the last thing I remember the man on TV talking about. Now there’s no TV at the Heinichens’ so I listen to an old Victrola that sits in the parlor room. It’s hard to know what’s happening without the news. I’ve continued my lessons despite the trouble it causes. Mrs. Heinichen says I shouldn’t bother with the news or lessons and tells me to read quietly in the parlor.

Daddy, where have you been for the last 2 years?

Adam’s tired body conceded to the illness almost thirteen weeks after being admitted to the hospital. His death was June 12th before sunset. I never was given the chance to properly say goodbye to my baby brother. Mother didn’t forgive the doctors for his death. She hasn’t returned us home since it happened two years ago. We’ve stayed hidden from the state, living in the Northern Province. There’s been no letters since we left.

Daddy what happened to the missing people? Please come home. Saenna.


Reassigned. Without a choice. Most of us, want a choice. However… Few really make one. Could someone come in and tell you that something about you is flawed and it MUST be mandatorily corrected? Not exactly. There are some liberties still left in our society. People don’t realize how lucky they are sometimes. Letters. This is the other series. I am excited. The two series are related. All I will say for right now, it is more. And I will explain at a later time. Enjoy! M.

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