New York of 2072

Ministry has taken over the Earth and no one knows how, why and when. Those who know are made to pay and those who do not know, well that's the story isn't it?

It was a cold, damp night of November the 14th. The foggy clouds cutting the view of moon poured their shadows so fluidly upon the vast fields beyond the outskirts of the city that an eye was left blind without a light. No matter how much darkness was wept upon the fields, the city was all bright in its colours �" the skyscrapers kissing the sky; the night clubs so colourful, every step of their entrance gleaming like gemstones laid out in layers; the streets were cold with fog carpeted around them �" yet the city remained busy, as busy as it could get. The whispers of preoccupation drowned most of the everyday talks and people talked only at night, or a few hours before the first sunshine of the morrow. Thanks to the night clubs, love still existed, however fake it was (but it was still called ‘true’ love). It was the cold year of 2072 in the New York City.
Joseph stepped out of his residence into the cold alley. He wore an astrakhan overcoat with a felt hat resting atop his head. Pocketing his hands in the overcoat, he sauntered towards the end of the grey-fogged, musty alley smelling of cigarette smoke. A man was being beaten up at a cold corner by two of the Ministry men. Another guy was standing beside them, lean with a long tangled beard and wearing filthy clothes, dozens of large steel keys around his muddy neck made him arch a little towards the ground. He was probably the keeper of one of the Gates of the city by the look of it.
‘Get up you bard,’ said one of the two men, their bodies clothed in a coat of very fine black fabric. He pulled him up by collar, ‘Never speak mumbo-jumbo,’ and with that, he made a blow to his nose. There was a loud cry and a few drops of blood spilled to the ground.
It was said that the Ministry had taken over the world some fifty years ago and since then, the world had become a factory, and life a mere deception �" but no one could say it for sure, for the history was wiped out and memories faded, yet some lived to tell the tale. These very few people with their memories still intact became, sarcastically, the ‘Bards’.
‘They talkin’ gibberish. The gibberin’ b******s,’ said the keeper of the Gates.
‘Yeah I know old fellow,’ the man pushed the bard to the damp wall. ‘You’re gonna regret this day bard,’ the man kicked him right between the legs and the bard fell down again, sobbing in pain.
‘I promise �" I won’t �" say anything again,’ the bard writhed in pain, ‘ah, I won’t.’
‘I know you won’t? Who wants to listen to your fantasies about Kennedy, or Einstein or who was that swine you talked about �" oh yes! The Hitler.’ The man kicked him in the ribs and the bard started coughing, the little grains of dirt rising from his mouth. ‘I would have killed you if I had the choice.’ He turned towards the other man, ‘Take this b*****d out of my sight. Lock him up in cage.’
‘The Ministry is using us!’ the bard yelled. The other man pulled him to his feet. ‘It’s using us to kill our own people, damn you.’
‘Shut up!’ the first man slapped him in the face. The second man took the bard away.
Then he turned towards the keeper, ‘You have my thanks, sir. You’ll have your reward at your doorsteps on the morrow. Notify us whenever you come across any bard again.’
‘Aye we will,’ the keeper took off.
After some moments of looking around the alley, the man noticed Joseph. ‘Why who are you and why are you looking at me?’
Joseph knew best than to reply to his inquiry. It was a common advice that one should never reply to the Ministry men. Joseph stood still.
The man came near and looked him up and down. ‘I don’t want to see you again,’ He said and walked away, taking with him Joseph’s hat. Such a shame that so-good Ministry has people like him, Joseph thought.
Joseph continued towards the mouth of the alley as soon as the man faded from view. He walked with careless gait and every step splashed on the puddle of water.
Splash!
Why can’t the bards keep their mouths shut? Joseph thought.
…Splash!
Who knows what’s wrong with them? The Ministry is doing everything it can.
…Splash!
How dare he blamed the Ministry?
…Splash!
Ministry’s our savior, our protector, our god.
…Splash!
…Splash!
…Splash!

He kept walking until he was stopped in his tracks by a loud splash. This was not one of those splashes of his feet against the water. It was a bigger one �" the one that could only come from a deep water, a well perhaps, or a pond, or perhaps a lake.
‘The Lake!’ Joseph gasped. Out of the alley, across the street was a park and in the middle of it was the Bywater Lake, or so the Ministry named it in its Book of Addresses. It was prohibited to throw something in it, very strictly. Some people came to wash themselves in the lake when the Ministry started cutting off water supply a year ago. Not long had the people enjoyed the clean water that Ministry imposed a rule of discipline that the one who even steps into the lake will be drowned then and there to death. Since then, no one even thought of touching the lake’s water.
And this time, someone dared to make a splash loud enough for everyone to hear.
Joseph rushed out of the alley and ran into the park. As it was, a huge gathering of people had already been there to witness the anomaly. Under the black starry sky, the people stood beside the lake, whispering about a man. Joseph couldn’t understand nor did he want to ask �" he squeezed himself through the crowd and came out in the clearing at last. The moonlight was enough to make noticeable the body of a man floating head-down on the surface of the lake.
‘Either this man washed himself in the lake,’ said the man from Ministry whom Joseph had seen before with the bard. The man came next to the floating body and turned his face for everyone to look, ‘or he was a bard!’
Cheering and applause rang from every part of the crowd. It took Joseph some time until he realized that the floating corpse was of the bard himself. The man had killed him, and without knowing, Joseph found himself clapping and cheering with the crowd.
‘One down today, another tomorrow, and one day we’ll have no bards!’ the man announced, the applause increased. ‘And just so you know, I, Captain Stablis killed this bard. Tell that to Ministry whenever you have a chance. May Ministry bless you all folks.’
Captain Stablis, with his partner, walked while the crowd cut open before them to give him way. A few men hurried towards him to pat on his shoulder �" a few old ones came to hug him and kiss him on cheeks. In the midst of all the approval and appreciation, Captain Stablis looked in the direction of Joseph. His smile faded and with a grim expression on his face, he came to him.
‘I told you not to show me your face,’ Captain had an angry look on his face. ‘I don’t even want your junky hat, if you came after it.’ He took the hat from his partner’s hand and shoved it to Joseph. With strong hands, he pushed Joseph away but before he left the park, he turned towards Joseph, ‘I have a feeling we’ll meet again.’ He smirked at him and went away, vanishing in the foggy darkness. Joseph put on his hat.
It took him long enough to reach the next block. It was almost midnight and even streets shivered with the coldness. A few flakes of snow laid hereabout on the pavements and a cold wetness wrapped the leaves of the potted plants placed outside. The road was slippery and so the traffic went slow. He had only an hour and a half until curfew was to set off.
He was walking in the Street Rasglow Pepperoni. The street was named after the restaurant that was the favorite of most Ministry top officials. The restaurant still stood there in its original location but it was too expensive for any common man to dine in. It was meant for Ministry officials only. He entered the Streeter’s Pub with a worried look and aching eyes. Perhaps the cold had gone to his head and he felt his head throbbing in pain. A tankard of beer would probably lessen the pain and help him forget about it.
The bar was as empty as it could get. It was a single room illuminated by a single tube-light. Ministry had forbidden dancing and over-drinking in a pub, for it blurred the vision and wasted the hours. As it seemed, everyone was too busy in their lives to have a shot at a bar. A plump man, probably in his 40s, stood behind the counter, a deep V-shaped black leather jacket covered him above the waist, deeply colored violet breeches hung from his waist, a suspending fat of tummy quite visible.
‘What can I get ya?’ he asked carelessly while cleaning the glasses and putting them away.
‘Give me anything,’ Joseph sat down, taking off his hat, his head between his palms. It felt as though his head had burst open and all the noise around melted his brain. His eyes ached and watered every now and then.
‘Water?’ asked the bartender. Joseph stared at him in disgust. Is that why I came to a bar? �" To get a glass of water?! Thought Joseph. ‘Sorr’y man. I t’ought maybe that will help ya lessen the pain, you know. A beer it is then.’
Joseph lowered his head on the counter. He heard the clinking of glasses and the thuds of bartender’s footsteps every moment of the time. It sounded a noise to him and every little sound felt like a powerful blow to his head. What is the matter with me? Why can’t it just stop? A sleep would probably lessen the pain? �" Yes of course, that is what I’ll do as soon as I get out of the bar.
And then he heard the doorbell tinkle as someone walked into the bar. Then another. Then another �" and with it, the bell tinkled so many times that Joseph knew that about a dozen or more people were inside the bar. Anyway, he lifted up his head, not looking at the new arrivals and took his tankard of beer from the bartender and drank it in a few gulps.
His head was feeling light after a few moments and he started feeling alright. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he said out aloud, ‘I should’ve gagged on this beer. The beer was so good before the Ministry poked in.’ He looked at the bartender who stood still, his eyes filled with horror.
‘Who’s Jesus Christ?’ asked the bartender, horrified.
‘He was �",’ all of a sudden Joseph realized his crime. How had he come to know of Jesus Christ? How had he known that beer was so good before the Ministry came? It wasn’t right. If I know about past, I am a �"
‘BARD!’ the bartender shouted, pointing at Joseph. Every man in the bar rose to his feet. Joseph turned around and saw the expressions of scorn, hatred and disgust on their faces. What have I done? Oh dear God what have I done? There were whispers and stares from the crowd. It was believed by some people that bards bewitched the people around them, making them bards as well. Perchance that was the reason why most of the people ran out of the bar.
In the midst of bewilderment, terror and hatred, someone spoke from a dark corner, ‘I told you I didn’t like your face,’ the man stepped out from the darkness. He was Captain Stablis, ‘a bard’s face.’ He sneered at him.
Joseph couldn’t understand any of it. A moment ago, he knew nothing of Jesus Christ or Beer or anything about the past. He lived in the present and that was all but now his mind was filled with history that existed before the Ministry �" Hitler, World War II, Atomic Bomb, Einstein, Vatican, Pope, Religions, Jews, Muslims, Titanic, Sushi, Pasta, Marriage, Love. His mind was flushed with memories but it was of no use now. It was not the past or history that concerned him, how he came to know of them was actually what mattered to him most.
Captain Stablis stopped before him and whispered in his ears, ‘Your hat was the warmest one that I ever wore,’ he smiled at him and walked back a few paces. Joseph suddenly realized his mistake, took his hat and flipped it over. Inside the hat was a chip, a small light blinking in it. The Ministry did this, Joseph thought, they planted the thoughts in me!
Captain Stablis took out his gun from holster and aimed it at his heart, ‘Too late, bard.’ He gave him an insolent look.
And in an instant of reminiscence, Joseph recalled the words of the bard he had seen dead in the lake.
‘The Ministry is using us!’ the bard yelled.
A sound of thunder rang through the cold streets and dark alleys of the New York City of 2072.

Author's Note

I don't know how well or how badly I've written. I need comments and suggestions. Thanks

Reviews

[maimoona]

somehow the story reminded me of Ionesco's play Rhinoceros. i like the way how the "ministry is using us" comes in handy and topples the suspense. the best part is the splendid description of the misty weather which itself amplifies the jittery feeling