15. A Shower and The Reason for Wars

15. A Shower and The Reason for Wars

A Chapter by Peter Rogerson
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PARADISE HELL Part 15

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Philip’s explanation had done two things: it had answered a few questions but given birth to a lot more, and chief among those was where we as a group of self-named troglodytes stood in his scheme of things. But he had drawn to an end for the time being and we were left to try and work things out on our own. And everything we had been told had all been a great deal for us to absorb. Life above ground was a darned sight more complicated that our life in Paradise Hell had been

Timmy and I went slowly back to our room, heads bowed, both of us deep in thought. We were both, in our own ways, trying to understand that a population of mere hundreds was nothing compared to what the global population might be.

I think I’ll have another shower,” muttered Timmy, “if you don’t mind,” he added with a grin, “we’ve never had the pleasure of a shower before and the stuff they put in that water makes me smell so good I could quite easily fall head over heels in love with myself.”

Go ahead,” I told him, “and I think those little brushes near the sink are for cleaning our teeth. Did you notice how white Kim’s teeth are? And she reckons she’s on old lady!”

I wandered into the washing area and examine done of the small brushes, which buzzed the moment I picked it up, and made me drop it. It took me some minutes to understand it, but my mind was rather more occupied by Timmy and the shower. I had rather enjoyed watching him as he showered yesterday: it was the kind of hygiene neither of us had never even suspected could exist, and both of us, it seemed, wanted to take full advantage of it.

But what,” I asked him when I had satisfied myself that my teeth had never been cleaner, “is so bad about a few naughty little fibs? Why does that mean any man has to suffer for the rest of his life because of them?”

He pulled his shorts off and slung them onto the bed. His tee-shirt followed, leaving him muscular and naked in front of me. I couldn’t help staring at him in admiration. All the pedalling he’d had to do in our life underground must have been what had toned his muscles and given him a look of gentle power, and I rather liked looking at it.

I suppose it’s who telling the lies, and why,” he suggested. “Think how easy it would be for that machine in Paradise Hell to have convinced us of anything it wanted to.”

And those Stewards of disciple would have reinforced it, but in that world it was only concerned with protecting things as they have always been,” I told him, “it’s when a big change or a threat from elsewhere is suggested, and nobody quite knows what’s going to happen that a few untruths can do all sorts of damage., and change a slanging match into an outburst of physical violence”

He stepped into the shower cubicle and warm, steaming water flooded over him. I tried not to look, but the sight of his naked body under a shower was enough to make me forget what’s supposed to be good manners, and I couldn’t help glancing at him.

You know,” I said as he attended to his hair, “I think you might fit in better if you let me cut a few inches off that mop of yours.”

I like my hair as it is,” he said, firmly, “and I like yours too, so I won’t get your scissors out unless you cut yours as well.”

I pulled my eyes off his wet body and changed the subject.

What do you think that Mr X said for him to be hauled before that committee of angels he told us about and actually be as good as condemned to death?” I asked.

Weren’t you listening?” he said, “we saw images from wars that made me want to vomit! We saw young blokes being blown to pieces and at the end we saw the result of a single bomb destroying a whole city! Piles of smoking rubble and not a living soul anywhere. And I’m sure it was all real: dreadful and actually happened as we saw it. That’s what their laws were designed to prevent because it seems that only a few influential or important people can quarrel and commit their whole nations to fight to the death. What was that bhe told us about? A single gunshot in a place I’ve never heard of, and millions of men were slaughtered. That’s worse than wrong, it’s horrible and should never be allowed to happen. And the one way they get the masses to commit suicide by fighting in a war is to lie about the other side. Not about what the quarrel was about to start with, but most likely about other irrelevant things like slight physical differences that assume a huge importance because of the way they lie and exaggerate the trivial.”

I smiled at him as he stepped out of the shower and pulled a clean white towel over him. Yes, our grubby towels had been changed for nice new ones already.

Do you want me to dry that dripping winkle of yours?” I asked him, grinning, “and yes, I do see how an influential man can corrupt a whole group of people by lying about anything he wants to lie about. I’m just shocked that it’s ever been allowed to happen.”

If you want,” he smiled back at me, slinging his towel at me, “while I dry my hair. But anyone who has influence and uses it to cause harm to others ought to be paraded in front of the Stewards of Discipline and flogged unmercifully.”

I took his towel and within less time, dear diary, than it takes to write about it, we were all over each other, and he, my papery friend, is one of the best kissers in the world. It had never been like this in the land of the troglodytes.

In the end we had to pause for breath

You know, dear diary, I don’t half love my man!

© Peter Rogerson 01.03.21




© 2021 Peter Rogerson


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Added on March 1, 2021
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Tags: shower, hygiene, truth, misinformation, fakery


Author

Peter Rogerson
Peter Rogerson

Forest Town, Nottinghamshire, United Kingdom



About
I am 77 years old, but as a single dad with four children that I had sole responsibility for I found myself driving insanity away by writing. At first it was short stories (all lost now, unfortunately.. more..

Writing