THE CAMERA AND THE GUN
Chapter I
"Oh -- oh!" I said.
From the sidewalk across the street, from the store next to
me, from a car screeching to a stop, and from behind Nicola --
as she pleaded for me to do something for her -- the police
were rushing at me; warming up their brutality by stomping
their boots against the ground.
A civilian's car skidded to a stop in front of me, and in
the race to be the first to arrest me, a cop jumped on the
engine hood of that car, which blocked his way, and leaped on
top of my body. He crumpled me to the pavement and into a
ragged baseboard of a store front. The officer crushed my chest
then quickly thrust my face onto a loose nail. The other
cops pulled him away from me then ripped me off the nail.
I screamed and grabbed my blood-spurting face. I could see
hands all over me pushing metal things onto my wrists and
clubbing me with solid rubber. Eventually I felt my gushing
cheek pressed against the engine hood, the grit of a sandy
boot print came through my cheek and mixed with the blood
swirling on my floundering tongue. Slowly I realized that
the heat of the sun-baked hood was going to cauterize the gash in my
cheek and a side of my face with it. I tried to lift my face
but a hand pushed it back down.
The cops started to yell at each other but I couldn't hear
well while one ear was sucking blood and a hand
was pushing the other ear closer to it. The hand came off my
ear and an argument became clear.
"Get your hands off that man!"
"He's a god damn suspect!"
"And that's all!"
"Listen he's mine! I got him first! These are my hand-cuffs --
see."
"Do you want to trash all your work on this case by the way
you're handling this?"
"Okay, but get your hands off this one."
The one cop that was holding me down lifted me off the car
by my arms, they were cuffed behind my back, and jerked me
around while he held the cuffs as high as he could without
causing me to flip over. The car door opened and he kicked
me into it, I hit my shins on the step. He followed right
behind me to sit me up to reduce his cleaning costs for the
newly stained back seat. I kept my mouth hanging open while
I ventilated anything I could. I sensed
the pain was going to get worse in a few seconds from
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2.
that point. I felt with my tongue for the gash in my cheek
to assess the damage as we drove away. My teeth were fine
but the hole was huge. A last
search for Nicola gave me an image of her willfully getting
into the car of another police officer, a jolly one.
"God help me -- stop the pain -- stop it!" The blood was
tickling my chin as it dripped off and I tried to concentrate
on that frustrating tickle to avoid imaging my new ruby lips
that hung off my cheek.
The cop next to me grabbed me by the hair and said, "Look
what I found in your back pockets when I had you down. Looks
like you're into the crystal a bit too often -- here want
some -- hey gimme your tea." The cop driving gave the one
beside me a cup of tea. "Here, I'll make you feel better -
nothin' like doin' a little divine intervention on my way
home from work." He dunked the rolled wad of pamphlets into
the tea and spilled the overflow on his pants. He swore at
himself and sat waiting -- presumably for the crystal to
dissolve.
One cop continued to talk, "You've got a hell of a lot of
money in your pockets. You know -- someone might get the idea
you were going somewhere. Not me though. I don't fool around
on spec. I'm a facts man. I can see the facts so I don't
need to spec. And you know what the facts are here -- I've
got a guy sitting in back of me messing up this clean car --
take your drink." He pulled my head back and poured it in my
mouth. "You know I've been after you for the last two years --
I had you long before the other..."
'What did he say?'
"Those idiots trying to protect you back there don't know a
crime from an accident -- basically their heads from their
asses. Okay, I'm settled down now. I just want you to know
before you get too happy I've got an eye-witness that saw
you do it and knows your name. You know..."
'What the hell is he talking about -- he can't mean me?'
I spoke trying not to move my mouth, "Wha'th ny nane?"
The cop laughed a little, "Your name? Let's see ...this week
it's Bernard."
I blinked over and over thinking of what he could be talking
about. I forgot my cheek and noticed that my hands were
tingling from lack of blood getting past the cuffs, but soon
I forgot that too and could only sense things in general;
where I was, the crusting of the blood on my chin, the bad
shave on the driver and the honesty of the man sitting beside
me. But it was not the time to let things drift on like they
were. My view was coming back. I needed to have the certainty
I had missed for the last while. I needed it badly and the
moment was not allowing me that kind of certainty. There was
no way my new slogan applied anymore, 'Truth, Justice...'crap.
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3.
It was time to fall back on the one thing that I had abandoned -
abandoned before I realized fully the power I could wield
with it, my own self. I married myself. That is what it must
have been. I just could see nothing to equal the certainty
of being a god to myself.
The cop beside me - something was mistaken in his information
about me. He had my correct name...I know I had done something
illegal ... but he said that for two years he was after me:
what did I do two years before?... I did nothing. If doing
nothing is a crime some kind of revolution in thinking had
taken place recently. This must have been the mistake, they
must have arrested the wrong person. But they found an eye
witness that knew my name, what the cop called this week's
name; the name I have had all my life suddenly breaks the
case for the good guys! Where did this witness come from and
what did it see me do?
The city had darkened and the street lights were flashing in
the eyes of my sinking head as we travelled on the momentum
of this endless ride.
"Hey, wake up Mr. Kimosa. Wake up!" I sensed a friend -- what
was her name?
"I've closed the cut in your cheek and there should only be
a small scar in a few weeks. We took pictures of it for you."
I looked at her and realized that I didn't know her.
"If you're interested in making a complaint against the
arresting officers I'll call in The Civilian Complaints
Commission investigators."
I nodded faintly, 'No'.
"Hey Rady, he doesn't want them. Forget it will you?"
I saw where I was then; in a clinic under arrest with two
cops to watch me. The bright lights bothered my sight and I
was still drowsy. Very quickly though I remembered the
question I needed to ask, "What am I charged with?" The pain
in my face was still there but my question came out.
"You're charged with setting fire to an apartment building,"
she had leaned over me and her breath stank of garlic.
"That was only a few days ago. And I didn't even do it."
"If you want to talk about your case I think you should wait
for your lawyer."
I lay back my head in frustration, peering around the room
for something to relax me. The smell of the medicines began
to relieve me of the garlic hell, and that helped, but I sat
up just for something to do. The cops came over to me,
carefully placed handcuffs on my wrists and asked me if I
was ready to go. I said I was and they gently lifted me off
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4.
the examination table to the floor and helped me walk out of
the room.
The corridors were long and frightened me. It was the first
time I had been in a prison. The slamming doors reverberating
from the far end of the building held firm my deepening sense
that nothing was going to solve my problems. Finally the
kindness of, what were, the guards took from me my last desire to fight
for my survival. But at that second when I could see nothing
to take me away from my ultimate hopeless state, curiosity
became the hidden residue of my will to live. 'How am I going
to get off these charges?' and as though I was in a soap opera
I asked myself, 'will I ever have the control over my life
that I've only recently discovered is my aim in life?' My
instincts came back -- I was ready to try anything to get out
of that place.
I was placed in a holding cell where I found a seat and someone
to talk to, but I think she found me, "Are you been arrested
for first time?"
"Yeah."
"Me too, Please tell me, are you nice?"
"Yes."
"That is very good, because I very scared of here and other
people and people that come here before."
"That's good."
"You know that they say? I steal big tableau from store at
night."
I laughed, "A tableau? Do you mean a display in a store
window?"
"No store window just a tableau with four legs that you eat
with."
"Do you mean a table?"
"Oh yes - yes, I guess so."
'Sounds a little ridiculous.' I began to wonder about that
place. But I could see that her story was something to use
to get me out. I just needed to stand a little too close to
her and my arrest might look just as ridiculous.
I asked her about the details; who arrested her and the
circumstances of her arrest.
She told me that she was arrested at home while having dinner
with her family. Also that the officers had a warrant and
were very kind to her. Her fascination for the officers'
etiquette and hygiene side-tracked her story on to the details
of one of the officer's manicure and how things like that
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5.
should be done. At one point she said, "They should no chance
be give the right to wear moustache. The food go up there
and grow."
Although I told her I believed her story, she kept insisting
that she told the truth. I started working out how I could
tie myself to her. I knew they had evidence against me. They
wouldn't just disregard it. I'd need to advocate her cause
in the spirit of casual selflessness. I would, in the process
of being interrogated, just mention her case in a weak and
humble manner; splicing my story with it at the most
appropriate parts. A perfectly tenuous plan.
It was my life I was guarding so I continued to work on the
plan while I sat beside the woman and asked, "What
...is...your...name?"
"Beth."
'So her name is Beth. I wonder why she talks strangely?' I
didn't want to be rude so I didn't ask.
Two cops came into the holding cell and were evidentially
looking for me. They found me after consulting a photograph
one carried -- a procedure which seemed familiar to me. They waved me to come to them.
To make sure they were introduced to the idea of Beth I leaned
over to chat with her. I tried to encourage her, "Don't worry
about your case I'll help you. I'll make sure they know you
didn't take the table. Okay?"
"Why do such thing?"
"Because I want to help you."
"But the table mine."
"You took the table?"
"Yes, but they say I steal. It mine if I wanted it."
"If you want it it's yours?"
"Yes, it sat on the floor so long and I watch it. Then I
claim it before other did. That the way of my country."
I blinked.
Two guards took my arms and pulled me away from her. They
led me out of the cell and into the corridor. They led me
and I knew that was all I could do for myself, I was out of
ideas.
"Mister Bernard? Is that your name?" said the cop holding my
right side.
"..Yes?" I stammered.
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6.
"Could you please stand up on your own now? We're getting a
little tired of dragging you around."
"Of course."
"I think you'll be happy to hear that the charges against
you were dropped. The witness, it seems, made a mistake and
has identified someone else in the second I'D lineup.
I closed my eyes and smiled.
The guard went on, "The press was told we had
caught the police killer, so we'd like it if you kept away from
the papers. It could be embarrassing for us you understand.
Now there's a woman waiting outside for you. Come."
Whatever it was I was arrested for, whether for arson or cop
killing, I wasn't going to question them while my cell door
was being held open. The guards led me out the last gate and
there was Julie across the waiting room. She moved toward
me, I didn't know if she was going to react first to my
wedding or to my arrest. I looked past her stoic expression
into her eyes, into a moment of decision. She chose tears.
She said, "I'm glad your arrest was just a mistake." she
walked away from me and led me to the exit.
She stopped on the other side of the exit under an arcade as
rain splattered off the pavement in front of us. "I offered
the police all kinds of personal testimony to say you couldn't
have killed a police officer -- but now explain what happened to
Zinta!" Tears flowed down her cheeks, "I know you were at
that wedding business when it happened -- Zinta must have
decided not to come to it? Right? She must have just had the
bad luck to be home at the wrong time? Right?" Julie held up
her head and took a quivering breath while she watched me
agree with several nods. She continued, "I'm asking you,
Bernard, I saw you come to that wedding-thing in shorts
without anyone to marry but yourself; you looked like the
world had beaten a path over...whatever - I'm not in the
mood for my sayings - I just want to hear you say that you
didn't have anything to do with Zinta's death. Promise me!"
"I didn't! I really didn't!"
"You were a mad man at that wedding-thing!"
"Honestly! I didn't!"
I was getting the feeling again that I had just before I was
arrested of being circled and watched, then I saw from the
corner of my eye that two women were sitting in a car looking
at me.
Julie lamented out loud, "Zinta's dead!"
I couldn't believe it. "Is Zinta dead?"
"Didn't they tell you?"
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7.
I looked down in shock, "Oh yeah! Of course they did. I wasn't
paying close attention to you -- sorry."
Julie touched my arm with both hands to get my attention
again and I looked at her. God, she was overweight. But I was
just being superficial, if I learned anything in the days
past, it was the more beautiful they are the more they betray
you.
Julie continued, "All of a sudden I don't believe you,
Bernard. Zinta told me once how good you were at convincing
yourself of something that would be completely wrong just so
you could get your promotion to manager at work. Zinta said --
I don't know if I can remember all the details -- she said
something like you made up some fantastic incident about
cadet training; that you fixed an officer's disconnected
shoulder.
"I did do that."
"She was in your battalion. Wouldn't she know?"
"She wasn't in my squad."
Julie dismissed the direction of the argument with a wave of
her hand and returned to her problem, "I've always known you
to be a good person but Zinta's dead; and I can't help
thinking that no matter how good I think you are, I could be
wrong. I can't believe I'm saying this to you Bernard. But I
couldn't believe it was you at that wedding either. Bernard,
I'm trying to tell you -- I came here now because I thought I
should help you, but from now on I don't think I can deal
with you. Just, from now on don't call me. This is a bad
time for me and I'm going to need time to work it all out."
She took a step backwards and slapped my arm in the same
motion, then opened an umbrella and concluded our business.
"I have to go. Make sure you take care of yourself and don't
let those stitches on your cheek get infected."
She walked into the rain angling her umbrella against the
gusts and like a hippo on a high wire she walked between the
puddles until she was in her car. She drove out of the lot
without waving to me.
I looked at how thickly the rain was coming down and I decided
to wait until it let up. It splashed across to my legs and
on my shoes and I noticed that my shoes were dirty. With my
fingernail I scratched off some dirt on one then lifted my
shoe far enough to look at the sole to see if a stone had
been stuck between the treads.
"Mr. Kimosa?"
I was forced to look out again.
A middle age woman was staring at me while shaking out her
wet umbrella. I looked past the woman to the car I had seen
earlier, it had just one occupant left, the driver, and she
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8.
was nodding to me. The woman in front of me was definitely
the missing one.
"I'm pleased to meet you, I'm Susan. I'm from the post office
and I'm here to take you to work." She shook my hand as the
other woman drove the car up to us. Susan opened up the umbrella
again and handed it to me. Then she led me to the car, letting
herself get wet.
In the car the other woman introduced herself as Betty while
she one-handed the steering wheel and took the car around a
traffic jam and on to the 401 eastbound.
I had something to be pleased about at that point so I woke
up and thanked the two of them for being so kind: Earlier, I
had completely forgotten about my new job and I was happy to
find that the Post Office had not forgotten me.
Susan turned to me and said, "I hope you don't mind that
we're the ones that had you arrested."
Somehow I didn't hear her.
She repeated herself, "We had you arrested. You see, there
was a mix up in our ranks and you should have been taken
directly into the Post Office network once you were hired.
Then we found out that you were returning to those scam
artists in Nedston -- that was a disaster at first. You see
we have an ongoing problem with them that we're about to
eliminate and your association with them made us doubt your
reliability and worry that you might jeopardize our project.
That is when we called the police. Your dispute with them
just before you were arrested saved you. We were thinking of
leaving you in jail. I mean, you did set your building on
fire, correct?"
"I didn't!"
"We don't mind that you did. It's just another qualification
on your record. Sometimes it takes great moral courage to
trade off one good against another, even if it is the
greater good. Before you feel you need to deny it further
let me say that you have nothing to worry about. You have
been selected to serve with the Red and Whites ... Since you
don't seem to be familiar with the name let me just say that
we're here to let you continue protecting and serving your
country. But with the backing of our apparatus you'll be
able to succeed where you have failed before."
I kept on wondering what she was talking about and how
delivering the mail would do all this.
We turned off the 401 onto the Don Valley Parkway heading
downtown. I recalled the time that I had told the Rector
that the Parkway was where my parents had died the day before
I talked to him. I wondered what these Red and Whites thought
I was, so I asked Susan.
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9.
She said, "I have your record if you want to read it
yourself."
She handed me a printout with a halo-photo of me on the top.
The general information was accurate even up to 'In process
of address change.' Then it read better then I remembered my
own life.
"Lived in Rosedale with parents until both his mother and
father were murdered. He was five. The court awarded custody
of Bernard to Bernard's first choice as guardian, his
neighbours, the Dewar family. Zinta Dewar, ten years old at
the time and the only daughter of her family, became his
friend. After several mock weddings by his twelfth birthday,
they were secretly sleeping together.
" I couldn't recall how it was possible for them to know what
Zinta and I had been doing at that age. Or why it mattered.
As I read further along in this account of my life there
were more and more anecdotes about Zinta and I, about Mr. Dewar
and I, and what I did when I was called up into the cadets.
The cadet stories were the most detailed.
"February seventh, Corporal Kimosa accepts Major Leclere's
personal challenge. On a throw to the mat, Bernard dislocates
the Major's shoulder and wins a conceded victory. Bernard
refuses the win until the Major admits that it was wrong to
criticize the Government.
" If Julie could have seen the record I was reading I would
have shown her that I did fix an officer's dislocated
shoulder, despite what Zinta thought. The record started to
look less like a good indication of what my life was like
when I read up on the more recent events. It did talk about Zinta
and I moving in together and our friendship with Julie during
the last few years. It also mentioned Zinta's pursuit of art
and about our arguments. However, it had the same false
criminal records that I had seen on the Revenue Canada files.
One other thing that bothered me on that record was a statement
that Zinta would often tell my friends and acquaintances
not to mention my parents and not to pursue the topic even
if I wanted to. No reason was given. Finally it stated without
hesitation that I had set fire to my apartment and that I
did it to kill the editor of a newspaper. It said that Zinta
and I had moved out the day before on October 2 into another
flat. The whole thing ended by classifying me as a candidate
for the Red and Whites as a group A, whatever that meant.
We had reached the end of the Don Valley Parkway and I handed
back the record to Susan. I wondered who these two women
were. They must have been under the impression that I was a
violent person and that I could help their Red and Whites in
some kind of violent pursuit or project. And it was a 'project'
she called it when she mentioned the Rubes. Violence in my
fabricated record was the only distinguishing factor that
could have attracted them to me. I had to ask some questions
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10.
but we arrived at our destination -- the same Federal building
on Front St. where I had been hired by the Post Office.
They drove into an underground parking lot. We left the car,
and the two women took me through a narrow corridor to a
solid wall. It was actually a giant door and it seemed to be
ready for nuclear and biological warfare. The entrance that Susan took
me through had two security doors and, inside, the corridors
were so long I could not tell if in the distance it was a man or woman I was
looking at.
Susan led me a few feet into the first office
where she greeted a man with a formal kiss, hug and
conversation that showed me that they were in the cadets or
army together. I was introduced as the one they had
been looking for.
"Bernard, it is very good to meet you," the man said
reservedly. "Today I will show you your office and your task
here. If you don't mind there is just one little job for you
to do before quitting time. Come this way."
Susan waved good-bye to me and said good-bye to the man,
using the name Bill before exiting through the security doors.
Bill lead me then, although not with much excitement. I
followed him to an office and he told me it would be mine
from that point on. It had a good computer, the best equipment that
I'd ever been offered to use. He invited me to try my chair,
which I did. He moved back and sat on the edge of my desk.
"I'm sorry about the hole in your cheek," said Bill. "I know
the cop that did that to you and he wants you to accept his
apologies. He had no idea that we wanted you."
"Sure," I said.
Bill smiled and slapped my shoulder.
He continued, "You've been a good guy to put up with all
this without whimpering about why you should; here, I'll
tell you. Ah...to begin with my name is Bill. A fellow named
Perry and myself have been running the Red and Whites for
seventeen years. To be straight up about it -- the Red and Whites
clean up the country. We do the work that the government's
are too timid to touch. It was once made up mostly of cops but
now more than half are civilians. But what we do is still
mostly cop work; stopping the bad guy as always. We just
don't hesitate to do whatever it takes to get the job done.
That's where a civilian like you is important. Your military
record shows you're committed to fighting for Canada and
keeping it at its best. You're a good fellow! You must realize
how, as a civilian, you can do more than an ordinary cop."
"Yeah," I claimed.
"You're a group A and that means you don't have curfew but
you will have the most difficult tasks. We have only two
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11.
days before your first critical assignment. The training
should start immediately."
Bill changed his attitude and became harder with me as he
leaned over my keyboard and typed, "This is what a reporter
named James Atkin is typing into his computer. See, it's
regarding the referendum. He specializes in national politics.
We can access any reporter's terminal and change work in
progress - to remind them of who's in charge, or we just change
it before it goes to bed."
I was only a little familiar with what he was asking me.
"All the instructions and codes are in your library here so
you won't have any questions. Will you?" Bill rounded off
his last word in an unanswerable way.
He went on, "This reporter, Atkin, had done a good job
to this point. Excepting one attribute, he's obviously on
the side of good. You can't believe a thing he writes before
the editing. Stick it to him and change something
to make it more credible."
"Won't we get into trouble for doing this?" I asked.
"Take my word for it, we won't."
Under pressure to perform, I started to work by taking a
copy of the article in progress onto the second screen of
the terminal and rewrote it, changing the reference to a
source to an inference of a source. I asked Bill if that was
what he had in mind.
"Exactly. The source was lousy! Only make the inference more
credible and motivated by your desire to protect your
sources."
I did what he asked and was ready to insert it into the place
of the old paragraph.
"Well, don't wait for me to decide, you're on your own now.
Just weigh your actions in terms of our public relations
effort."
I had no intention of disrupting that operation but I wasn't
sure what to do. I seemed to have a natural gift for this
type of job, whatever job it was -- public relations? I was
puzzled by the whole set-up of this place. I never made a
habit of reading the newspapers before but I did know that
this was not what papers were supposed to be, with outside
people interfering in the content of the stories.
"Bill," I asked, "maybe you might give me some tips. Do you
think?"
"All right. There's a handbook in the library, take a look
at it right off, it's called The Context Rules; it's a great
book. There's only a few ideas that you need to remember
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12.
from it. Ever heard someone say history is written by the
victors? Throw that out the window. The victors create the
values and standards that the histories are written in, it's the
context. Take this reporter here. We don't need to worry
about him that much because he can't see very far. In fact
he won't even try to see because his values and standards are
enough, the ones the victors of the world create for him. We
only interfere to stay being the victors -- yes, we're the
victors. Take Joan of Arc; she's a Catholic witch to the first victors
of Paris -- the English, then a Catholic Saint to the next victors of
Paris -- the French. Same person, same actions, different
values, victorious at different times. Standards that the
victors make are what is hard to escape. That's the Context I'm
talking about. If someone tries that's when the Big Truth
comes in.
"Don't ask, I'll explain. The Big Truth has two sides to it;
one, when the person jumps the wall of values set by the
victors they are either too scared to understand a truth
outside their context or they're too lazy to change their
minds because of the trouble it would cause. A good example
is the Emperor's Clothes story. The tailors trick the Emperor
into believing that they have made a beautiful garment. The
Emperor is not the victor in this case, the tailors are.
They have set the values by which this world sees everything.
When the little child, unconditioned by the new victors'
standards, is faced with the naked Emperor, the child sees
the Big Truth; then so does everyone else, including the
Emperor. But, instead of excepting the Big Truth the people
are scared and they had rather maintain the tailors' standards
because of the trouble that would happen if they didn't.
Now... two, the Red and Whites are the Big Truth when need
be. If someone tries to jump the wall of our values and
standards we put them back in it or take them out of the
way. You're a victor now Bernard. You're a Red and White.
Don't worry about people like this reporter here. Like most
of the people we come up against he'd rather be sleeping all
the time.
"I've got to go -- you look around. You'll be informed on how
to proceed from here by my subordinates." Bill left and I
went ahead and inserted the changed paragraph.
Almost immediately though, the paragraph was erased and
rewritten again, I did not know what I was meant to do. I
just sat there and upon my screen with the paragraph was a
message for "the bum on the other side" to get lost, that I
had no right to bother him. I just wrote over his comment
that I was sorry to bother his work -- that's all I could
think of. I was embarrassed. Bill forgot to mention this
might happen. Suddenly, I realized it was a game, a kind of
test. I knew I had to force this James to accept these new
conditions. That's why Bill wanted me to work with him, I
guessed. Reinsert it or not. It was a test. He was following
my play from another terminal. I had to act quickly. I wrote
in the same vein as I did when I apologized seconds earlier.
I said I was sorry but his style was lacking credibility and
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13.
if he could not pick up his credibility in his reporting I
was going to be there to make sure someone did pick it up.
His reply was surprisingly fast, "Okay!"
I smiled a little. I'd changed his mind with so little of my
persuasive attributes, I felt like I was back in shape again.
Once I'd disconnected, Bill was back in my office
and said, "I bet you knew it was a test. Eh? But okay, who
cares? You did well. But he was a cinch. Okay, you can leave
now. Hey, one more thing you should know, this organization
has only permanent members. And we live in Barracks. Giving
up your private life is the cost of making people good. We
give courses at Barracks on policy objectives, and we publish
a biweekly newsletter to up-date you on the issues. The
present long-term issues are mandatory use of condoms and
the Nuclear Referendum, a first-class priority. Make sure it
stays that way."
I wanted to ask for more information but the conversation
had clearly ended when he walked away.
I was staring at the console, sucking the sutures in my cheek
and feeling the outside ones with a finger, wondering what
to do next. Then it shut down with the words, "GO HOME"
written on the screen. I laughed a little at it, but when I
got up to leave I felt a little shaky. Where was I to
get to these barracks that Bill was talking about? I left my
office, closing the door behind me, and approached the front
entrance, a crowded front entrance. "What's going on?", is
what I asked the first person I came to.
"The bus home broke down," he answered.
'Great,' I thought, 'I will get to meet some of my new work
mates.'
I casually asked the man, "I guess we won't be going anywhere
for a while?"
"You're stupid, aren't you?"
"No," I answered.
"oh, you're one of the new people, right?"
"Right."
"Oh, yeah, I recognize you. You're a Group A, right? Bernard,
right?"
"Right."
"Hey, it's an honour to meet any one of you guys. You know
you're going to find we do some damn important work here."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
14.
"What work is it that we do here?" I suddenly needed to find
out.
"We all have our own tasks, but saving this country is what
we're all about. Have you ever asked yourself what makes you
tick, what makes you happy? I'll tell you what makes you
happy, it's our system. We have the best political system in
the world and our job is to protect that system no matter
what personal sacrifices we must make. Could you imagine our
country without competitiveness and our social compassion.
I've worked here only a few months and I've seen how this
country is being destroyed by these crooks ruling our
country."
I was shocked to hear a Red and White say they loved the
country but hated the Government. I thought they were
inseparable. But I kept my mouth shut while he paused for a
second.
"I'm talking about this plan to develop nuclear weapons."
"Yeah, I keep on hearing about it. I even read an article
about it once. It seems to me that there's no reason to do
it -- we don't have a threat to the country, right?"
"Right!" said the man. "Hey listen lets go to the cafeteria.
The bus should be fixed soon but I think we have time for
tea."
He led me back through the offices to the west end. We passed
a manufacturing and storage area and I felt curious about
it, so I asked him about it. He laughed, "This is where we
make up the physical facts. We're often told these are the
best artisans in the city and I believe it. They make
everything from bombs that leave no trace of their own
existence to fingerprints. I've needed to use their voice
imitating device -- why don't I show it to you. Everyone's up
at the front waiting for the bus." He led me inside and I
found a dozen large screen computer terminals, three attendant
robotic devices and there were manual tools with a workspace on
the other side of the room.
He went on, "You might need to use this device some day soon.
Here, say something out loud."
I hesitated but eventually said, "The pains of Spain sit
mainly on their bullocks- eh - saying nothing is as good as
anything ..."
"if nothing was as good as anything," he said, "this sampler
wouldn't be able to screw up people's lives." Then he started
to whisper into the machine and a voice that was too familiar
yet strange at the same time, starkly told me that it was
Bernard Kimosa who was guilty of killing a cop over two years
before.
'What the hell is going on?' I was afraid to look at the
man. Did everybody think I did that?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
15.
This voice imitator could make it seem to anybody
that I had confessed.
He started to laugh again, then said as best he could, "You -
ah -- are -- ah -- a -- popular character in this -- operation.
Oh -- I love this job. I was involved in creating the witnesses
that identified you as the cop killer. For some reason you
were in great demand around here; Bill and Perry don't have
such urgent cases very often. Bill, the one that shows first
timers around -- he wanted you right away. I think he has
plans for you."
I disbelieved him. I'd been docile for the past day, feeling
like I had nothing to live for -- no direction of my own --
just when I was on to something about my life that was
important I was arrested. I played with my sixes
and wished I could resolve everything with a single
roll. I even felt guilty for killing a cop.
I was some big joke here to everyone. Bill told me I
couldn't quit the job, and all the things they did
gave me the idea, quitting was not an option. Bombs that
leave no trace -- what couldn't they do to me if they wanted
to?
With a snap of his fingers my coworker woke me out of my stupor where
I'd been connecting the post office, the Rubes and the Red
and Whites. I asked the first thing that came to my mind,
"Do you know anything about a package meant for a group of
con-artists called the Rubes?"
"Oh yeah! I heard of it but I don't know what's in it."
As I was about to ask a follow-up question, an announcement
was made through a PA system that the bus was ready.
The man told me to forget the tea, that we had to go.
I was able to ask the question as we left, "Was the Rubes'
package manufactured in that area we looked at. Why is the
Post Office being used for the Red and Whites?"
"I think it's just one of our oldest operations. We make up
fake packages with incriminating histories or contents for
the police to entrap criminals for the courts. It's sort of
our moral groundwork." Then out to the lot we went and joined
the crowd filing into the bus.
The large turns and high viewpoint of the bus gave me a sense
of clarity as we secretly paraded: the moral elite of this
city.
I could hardly believe what I'd gotten myself into. The Rubes
had been lucky not to have tried to obtain that package
earlier; but I wasn't going to stick my neck out for them
now, not after the way they treated me. And Nicola! What a
betrayal. No wonder she left the Rubes for good. She was
probably with the Red and Whites from the start, a groups I
was now in, involved in, and which, I considered, was the worst scam -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
16.
imaginable; with local and federal government involvement,
The cops and the Post Office, and out on a crusade to ...I
didn't know. But the whole nuclear weapons issue seemed to
be at the centre of it all.
My life was the centre of my quest and going along with
whatever I was told to do seemed to be the only way to even
survive -- I was scared.
The bus traveled east into Scarborough. Some of my new co-
workers were interested in getting to know me. "What's your
name?" was the depth of those conversations. We turned towards
the Scarborough Bluffs onto the grounds of a convent -- at
least the historical sign at the gate stated that it was --
and drove up to a red brick school with a green copper dome.
The grounds seemed vast to my sight. We left the bus
and crossed to the brick building. We were led by the nose
through the corridors into an auditorium. Perhaps forty people
sat with me in the hall waiting for the grand wizard or
whoever to enter. Then Bill stood in front of us and held
his hand up and waited for our complete attention, "We are
ready now to begin the crunch of our work. Three more
employees have now given us eleven complete squads of four
each. That should pull us through.
"Our task is a monumental one and the future of our nation
depends on the success of every one of you in the field. I
have witnessed in my lifetime the gradual disintegration of
our country's moral fabric and proud traditions. I'm happy
to see, finally, the coming together of the best this country
has left in order to re-weave that moral fabric. After all,
what are our enemies but the holes and nakedness in that
fabric, and what do they do for people but break the weave
that binds the common person with questions that needlessly
instill doubt -- doubt in our society, in our nation, in our
God. They know the answers, but they don't reveal the facts which they must deny --
because the secret agenda they expound by their actions is
the power to destroy that which they covet. And what they
covet, is this great country because they know it can never be
theirs ..."
Everybody around me cheered.
Bill continued, "They covet the power that you and you only
have been chosen to wield ... to protect this great nation."
More cheers surrounded me. My previous fears and criticisms
of this group were starting to look like folly. Bill was not
so wrong as I'd first thought. His words were so invigorating
to me that I helped the crowd around me raise the chorus
one voice louder -- I was finally part of a group of people I
could understand. I was desperate to talk to Bill, to talk
about the need I had for him to weave me together again; but
his influence was already doing just that. My past, up to
that very second, was stretched out visibly in parallel warps into
the nothingness to which I arrived. It was people who
were trying to destroy the country, they caused me all the problems --
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
17.
Nicola, Zinta, Julie, Wen - it was they that made me forget
God and country. I could hardly believe what they had gotten
me into. I had the solution I was looking for -- this
organization -- these Red and Whites.
II
Even as I came down from my high on the mob atmosphere, I
still listened intensely. "Most of you here have been with
us for only a short time and I'm proud of the progress you've
achieved in your assignments. Those that just started with
us will need to progress at an even more rapid pace -- tomorrow
we begin the crunch time and there will be no excuses. You
come with backgrounds in the same field so use it. We'll be
playing for keeps as of tomorrow on the Nuke issue. For
security I won't discuss the specifics of your assignments
now but I need to tell you that the news blackout on the
referendum has been moved up by two days. Our new plans
therefore commence tomorrow. This will make our tasks
incredibly more difficult. The window of favourable public
opinion to our side, that we hoped would last until the actual
referendum, is closing.
"Now it's time to move on to dinner; your assignments will
be handed out to you afterwards, individually."
I had to talk to him when he stepped away from the front
and toward us. The clapping and cheering had the side effect
of not allowing me to hear even my own voice as I called to
Bill. I pushed through the crowd without the usual insults
people toss when you step on feet, it became like an ant
swarm around the queen; I had somewhere to go so I was given
the privilege of stepping over the other workers. "Bill,
Bill!" I yelled out. "You're so right!"
"We'll talk later, Bernard!" He walked off with two other
people towards an exit with the sign OFFICERS ONLY over it.
I felt like I was back at the cadets with the sense of purpose
I had then. Now I knew why this country had the cadets; it
was to give the future citizens of this country the purpose
and beliefs to carry them through crises like the one I had
just gone through, so that when all seemed lost to me I had
that foundation to build on.
'God and Country ... ah ... God and Country,' I chanted in
my head.
I'd never before considered what it took to defend those
foundations I'd always had. There were even people
who were trying to destroy them. That provoked good
questions, ones I'd never asked of myself before -- How was
'God and Country' defended? There was no doubt they needed to
be. After all people are so easily swayed -- I was swayed
once and it was the worst thing that ever happened to me.
Why would the authorities let people like me be manipulated
by the charlatans and criminals that infested that house.
They had it under surveillance, they must have known what
they were up to, why would they let it go on for so long?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
18.
Even if it was just fraud that the Rubes practiced it deserved some
punitive action. Then I remembered the cash they gave me
after my wedding, it was mixed with my own money by now. How
could I sort it out? I had no idea how much money I had to
start with or how much they gave me. I felt around my pants
for the cash.
I needed some place to trash it and didn't know where to
find a garbage. I was in a corridor with three directions to
choose from. I asked a woman who was passing by for help and she
told me about the mess hall then pointed the way and I thanked
her.
A huge ruckus from the mess hall acted like a homing beacon
during my last few wrong turns, I was able to listen my way
towards the correct corridor. I dumped the money in the first
garbage I came to, I made sure no one watched me do it. Then
with my guilt eased I took an admiring glance around; the
hall was old and decorated with the tortured faces of
gargoyles. My rowdy new cohorts were accidentally dubbing in
voices for the stone monsters. The clanging, echoing hall was formerly a chapel and
old oak pews served as the seating but so few used them,
they were too busy standing to make their arguments seem
important and drinking like they were in a German beer
hall. The food was free and served cafeteria style. Only a
few quiet people were in the hall and they sat together at
one of the tables. When I'd stacked food on my tray as high
as it would allow, I took my food tray over to sit with the quite ones.
"Hello, my name is Bernard," I yelled.
A woman turned her head and interrupted her conversation. She too was
loud out of necessity and replied, "What did you do before
they got you out?"
I looked at her, a little bit confused.
"You know -- before they got you out of prison -- we recognize
each other from prison, but we don't know you."
"There are a lot of prisons," I said.
"But not a lot of prisoners these days."
I was surprised and intimidated, "I never made it as far as
prison, I was taken out from a local jail."
"Okay then, what did you do to get there?"
I was afraid to admit I hadn't done anything, I decided I
couldn't say.
"I'm not going to tell you" I said sternly.
"Oh --" she said laughing under her breath, "Good choice,
Bernard. Around here it's best not to give anyone help to
drag you down -- oops -- I'm sorry I didn't mean that.
Sorry guys."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
19.
"Do you mean they recruited us
from jails. All of us?"
"Well, not everyone. One or two aren't."
'God and Country,' I thought to reassure my new confidence.
I had drifted from the conversation and they were talking
about the assignments when I came back into it. I tried to
catch up with it while I ate my caviar, making sure I favoured
my itchy cheek, I didn't want to chew the stitches. The
conversation speculated on the assignment as being, in essence,
to create riots. It sounded stupid, but one of them claimed
he knew it for a fact. I just decided to wait for the
assignments to confirm it before I believed him. How could I
believe it, Toronto hadn't seen a riot in over thirty years.
What good would creating one now do -- I licked my plate for
the last eggs of my caviar -- I was not interested in hearing
their speculation. I stood up and took the rest of my meal
to another table, claiming I was queezy about the caviar.
I knew I should have been more friendly to
them but I needed to stand by my principles, despite the
repercussions.
As I ate the rest of my meal surrounded by the frenzied and
violent characteristics of a Punch and Judy show, Bill
approached and sat next to me. "How'you doing Bernard?
I've your assignment." He handed me a white envelope. "Hey
your stitches are not too bad after all, are they?"
"I guess not, they're just a little itchy sometimes."
"Yeah, you better hold off on that scratching, you're doing
it all the time."
"I am?"
"Business first. You go to the reading room to look at these.
Come this way." He led me away from the rest of my meal out
of the dining hall and into a corridor with many doors.
"Usually," he began, "you come into one of these rooms and
ask for your assignment. It will come out of this steel
drawer. Now you have the only copy and
I didn't specify what I wanted so you can see the drawer is
empty. I am the only one that can override the security to
open the drawer or anything else. You must say,'I would like
my second assignment' or third or whatever it is. Now I'm
going to leave you to read your assignment. Don't screw up."
Bill closed the door and I started breathing again. I tore
open the envelope, unfolded the paper inside and read; Bernard
Kimosa, Assignment 1. Oct .6 For the proceeding days of
Oct .7,8,9, you will be directly subordinate to Lieutenant
Alison Williams in her execution of the plan to expose the
popular dissatisfaction with the present regime in regards
to the upcoming, so-called, referendum.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
20.
I was surprised how short it was and how little was said. I
assumed there would be much more to it, how would we 'expose
the popular dissatisfaction' as it mentioned. Still a bit
puzzled by the letter I memorized the name of my superior,
returned the paper to the envelope and tossed the envelope
into the drawer and said, "I'm finished." The door
automatically unlocked, I leaned against it and I was out.
The hallways were still confusing to me so I decided to go
find out where I would be sleeping, I figured it would anchor
me. A dormitory was shown to me when I asked about sleeping
accommodations. The guard at the dorm's entrance told me
that I belonged to another section. He found by his list
which one it was and directed me there.
When I arrived I was given a list of
rules on how to behave in the building. The area was half
full of other people cleaning up and going to their stacked
beds so I did the same.
One last thing I did before turning in was to ask about the
book Bill had mentioned and where to find it, The Context
Rules. I found a copy in the common room and took it back to
read in bed.
"The guide to understanding how context is an inescapable
factor in determining the course of events."
I skipped a few chapters and stopped on page 104.
"Preemptive Infiltration: Begun in the last century as part
of counter espionage, the concept arose from the assumption
that the enemy was more sophisticated than it truly was.
This brought about the infiltration of all strata's of home
society where the enemy was presumed to be seeking an
influence; editors, actors, industrialists, politicians,
humorists, police, artists, unionists.
The system grew and became a passive instrument of
illumination; individuals put in
positions of influence rooted out all the
potential opponents. The system perpetuated its own viewpoint
to become self-managed with little need for oversight. The
lessons derived from the experience ..."
I then knew how the Red and Whites had started. With a yawn
that watered my eyes I glanced at snippets of information on
other pages.
"... Contaminating: is the absolute use of denial in every
circumstance where an argument is damaging.
No matter how absurd the denial it will always slow down, if
not stop, a damaging idea... Substitution: when interrogating
a suspect, create an atmosphere where the suspect feels as
if no crime or fault has happened ... Anchoring: is preemptive
contamination where you put out ideas in areas where there
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
21.
is no debate in preparation for debates that are expected to
arise... Spin Doctors: ... Hatchet Persons:...
" I lifted my head off my hand and looked around the dorm. I
was the last to turn off a lamp. I lay
down on my back. My eyes stayed open and I discovered the
depths to which a blackness in a room with no windows could
have. In time my ears picked up the slight breathing of
the others. In my head images formed on the darkness in front
of my eyes, hazy but familiar and some quite new to me. A
moment of clarity passed in front of me at the deepest point in my
vision. It came due to a smell that was drifting by. I
probed the remnants of the odor; I grabbed
the moment back and held to it until I could feel the memory
clearly. There it was, I was happy when I smelled that.
It was like the perfume of a rose. No, the perfume of a woman,
the side of a fragrant neck. I rubbed off each emerging tear,
being careful not to irritate the priceless neck with my
rough beard. "Zinta," I whispered, "Where did you go? I've
been looking for you." I pulled back my head to see Zinta's
wondrous face, full of tears, like mine. Smiling, like mine.
Together we burst out in a laugh; hugging, sniffling, and
trying to clear our voices. She said in a broken whisper,
"Where have you been?" I caught her hair in my beard and it went
in my mouth. I tasted a part of her I thought I would never
experience again. I answered, "I was just looking for you.
I'm so happy ... have you really forgiven me for hurting
you? Have you? I guess I never realized how important you
were to me until now -- now that you're back." I was consuming
this moment with her. All the time I had been searching for
something it was for her. Then a fire in our flat came to
mind -- the fire -- some of the pain was coming back. I held
Zinta tighter and she whispered "I love you, Bernard". Then
the fire again. Why the fire? Zinta's tight embrace started
to fail me as the fire came in our presence. The heat grew
all over us. I tried to cover Zinta with my arms but her
hair burned despite my efforts then all our clothes, then as
Zinta looked in my eyes the skin on her face started to curl
and shrink away with the fire. "I can't stop it Zinta. It's
not my fault!", then the fire licked at my eyes and I couldn't
see her. My hands numbed and my body collapsed to the floor
somewhere away
from me in the darkness. I believed my body was still out
there with hers and I tried to use it. I told my hand to
grab out for her but I didn't know if they were listening.
Eventually, I knew she was a dream; that I couldn't change
what had happened to her in the fire that those cops set. Those
cops.
I woke drowsily and quickly forgot my dream. It took a second
of effort to remember that I was in a dorm with my new
colleagues. I couldn't remember how I got there. I loosely
tried to figure it out. 'Okay,' I thought, 'After I saw Zinta
I went to the wedding and met Wen and Nicola and the rest. I
did them a favour and got the job at the Post Office. How
did I get that job?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
22.
It was so strange. First I'm refused, then welcomed then I'm
arrested to make sure I'll take the job even after I agreed
to work for the Post Office. Why would that happen? Sounds
like Cadets when we learned about overkill, setting in motion
all your options on one goal using all the resources that
can be brought to bear. I was arrested for this job! It sounds
ridiculous to me. Those cops that arrested me obviously had
no idea I'd done nothing wrong -- that I was just needed for
a job. But the cops have a connection to the Red and Whites.
So maybe the two cops that were following me from the church
had some connection too. What were my qualifications to have
the Red and Whites to be so interested in me? Perhaps the
cops thought like the Rubes thought, that I was some great
manipulator or something. If I remembered correctly, all my
life I had been quite creative. Like the story I gave the
Rector about my parents. Even I was convinced by it.'
I felt my face smile in the darkness. Then when I was relaxed
and ready to sleep again, I rubbed my tongue along the ridge
of stitching inside my cheek and a stitch fell off. I spat
it out. With a panic surging through my body I waited for
the blood to start gushing again -- nothing happened. I had
healed on the inside and so quickly. I wondered if my body
had extra healing powers. Mainly, I was just glad that my
tongue had not been pierced by that nail too.
I felt I was out of place with the Red and Whites. I was the
only one there that was hired without a real criminal record.
And this whole thing about our country possessing nuclear
weapons, why did these Red and Whites care if we did or
didn't? Most big countries had them. Did they want to keep some
pure image they had of our country ? I guessed that was the answer. Bill seemed
quite puritanical about the whole thing -- like the way he was
making such an issue out of a few articles in the papers. I
was never a reader of the papers so I had no idea why the
whole operation would be instituted. I decided to trust Bill.
He was the leader for a reason I guessed.
As I was going over my opinions on the operation again the
darkness showed me Nicola. Her betrayal stung. The image of
Nicola stopped when I gritted my teeth and prickling sweat
burst through my skin. I didn't want to think of her. I rolled
over on my side to cool off my damp back and caused a loud
squeak from the bunk. I listened very sharply to
hear if I'd disturbed anybody. On the other end of the dorm
the faintest whispering was taking place. I imagined that
not many of my fellow employees were asleep at that point. I
guessed I must have slept for only a few minutes. Outside
the door the guard was moving in his chair. I looked slowly
over the edge of the bunk to my bunk-mate. I couldn't see
anything, but of what I could hear his breathing sounded
like that of a person asleep. I curled up on my side and
felt a moment of relaxation come over me like a chill.
Forgetting became my only activity as I passed by image after
image. letting them float in the dusty sunbeam in my old
flat.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
23.
An irritating buzz drove me further under my bed sheets.
Then I could see through the sheets that the lights were on.
Some coughing, but no talking went on in the dormitory. We
all got up and got ready. I was provided with clothes my
size and every necessity imaginable. In the washroom I
examined the stitches on my cheek. I pressed my tongue against
the inside, puffing out the skin and scratched the row of
stitches with a fingernail. I could see in the mirror how
well the cut was healing. No pain had overcome the original local
pain killer to that point. One thing I couldn't understand
was that my hands still burned, not to an intolerable point,
but I wished the rope burn would disappear.
Beyond that I just continued to try and ignore the pain. I
was happy to be able to clean myself up again and dress up
completely and I did one other thing to take me back to the
way I was, I returned to doing daily push-ups and sit-ups.
We were called into the mess hall to have breakfast then
taken to the assembly hall. Bill was on stage pointing to
people to tell them where to sit it. I was not forgotten.
When the hall seemed calm, Bill spoke to us. "I'm sorry
to our three new members that they must go into the field
before they get the training I promised them. I hope each of
you, with your Cadet training and your proven commitment to
the cause will be able to handle your assignments; just stay
behind your squad leader today and do what he or she does."
A woman sitting in front of me turned around and offered me
her hand to shake, which I did. She whispered, "Hey,
pleased to meet you. I'm your squad leader. Alison, okay"
You're Bernard right? Pleased to meet you."
After drinking from a large tumbler, Bill continued, "I hope
you're all refreshed this morning. You'll all find you're
going to be a little rusty after such a long break from direct
contextualizing. But, whatever you do, don't lack confidence
in your task. You'll blow everything if you're too nervous. Get
into those crowds right away and make friends. Get them to
trust you. And don't hold back the sauce. We want to get on
the news tonight. And remember the flag is what we're fighting
for. We're the Red and Whites ..." Bill finished in a somber
tone, "Someone's got to do it."
My squad leader stood up quickly and signaled with
a wave of her hand and a kind expression in her face to follow
her. We weaved through the departing crowd and met two men
who were a little older than me. Alison said they were Rich
and Ralph.
Alison said,"For a para-military organization, four in a
squad is a little small but here we are. We're called Seven
of Diamonds. All the squads are named from a deck of cards;
don't forget Bernard, okay?"
"I got it." Then I forgot it.
She told us to follow her. We were taken outside into the
parking lot and we all got into a car. Four in a squad made
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
24.
sense then. We drove away from the old building on the Bluffs
over-looking the turquoise Lake Ontario and headed downtown.
Alison used the rearview mirror to look at me in the back
seat of the car while she drove. She said, "Hey, Bernard,
you must be nervous to be on your first assignment. Especially
without having even basic training."
"Yeah," I said.
"Stay next to me and learn from what I do. It doesn't take
much brains to do what we've got to do today. Just a lot of
acting. I guess I should tell you what we're up to."
"Yeah."
"There's a rally at Nathan Phillips Square for the Yes side
in the Referendum. Us, and at lest another squad, walk into
the rally and make everybody upset at something and make
them attack something; like one of the foreign hotels or a
consulate or anything that makes them look like a bunch of
dogs. That's it, not much to it."
"Look like a bunch of dogs to whom?" I asked.
"To the voters; they're a bunch of cows, right? Now, in a
week-long campaign they've gone from wanting nuclear weapons,
to hating the idea, to who knows what now that polling
has been cut off for the remaining two days. We just want
to make our vote count. Don't worry, this tactic always works.
See we're the wovles in the dog packs. The cows lead the
sheep."
I had to ask. "Okay, who are the sheep?"
"The sheep are young kids. Ah - not -the goat kind of kid.
The goat kids are toddlers. And if they ever extend the vote
to the babies they'll be the bunnies.
..." I decided I should be grateful to her for bringing to my
attention the one fault my country had, which was its use of
cute para-military labels for voting groups.
We drove west through the expressway tunnel to Bay Street
then north to Queen St. to park under the square. We all
took a look out of the car at the crowd that milled around
in the square before we went down the ramp and into the
parking lot.
Alison jumped out of the car clapping her hands and saying,
"Okay, lets get a move on." She jumped around still clapping
and trying to hype us up as though it was a hockey game we
were entering. I was walking shoulder to shoulder with Ralph
and we glanced at each other, and rolled our eyes about
Alison.Then Alsion jumped between us hugging us then hanging
from our necks. We were about a foot taller than her. "Hey
guys. Just take your cue from what I do. Bernard, listen to
me for a while. Eh?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
25.
Be my straight man until you think you can handle it
yourself." She gasped out the breath that was giving her
strength, lost her grip and slid to the concrete, "Let's
go!" she said.
We walked up the steps into the sunshine and I warmed up
immediately in the crowds. Rich and Ralph split away from
Alison and I without acknowledging us as they left. I followed
Alison from a few metres away. She was calm again while
surveying the crowds from her low vantage. I could see by
doing little hops that the placards with slogans for nuclear
weapons were going a hundred metres deep from where we were.
Someone in the hotel across from the square had hung a banner
out a window near the top to about halfway down the forty
storey building that said in wind blown lines, "Y C
E A
S N
A
T D
O A"
The banner used the sameslogan as most of the placards did.
It seemed that the people at the rally were taking the same
tact that we were, an appeal to nationalism, which muddled
my opinion of it even further.
I began to realize when I tried to get a grip on what we
were doing there that there were some children there in the
crowd. If the crowd got violent I worried that something
might happen to them. Then I remembered that their parents
could look after them - I hoped.
Alison moved through the crowd in her casual manner, she fit
in so well with the cattle, sheep and occasional bunny.
Someone bumped the side of her head with the bottom corner
of their placard and apologized to Alison. Alison struck up
a conversation with the placard waver and I passed closely
to the two women and Alison was able to wink at me undetected.
I didn't wander out of sight of my squad leader and decided
to feel my way into the task I was being asked to do. I
reviewed what Alison had said in the car on the way, 'We're
supposed to stir up the crowd - and make them look like dogs.'
'Great,' I thought to myself. 'Maybe I can scratch their
ears.'
I decided to plunge into the crowd. A man much taller than
me was turning around slwoly, stretching his neck looking
for somebody. I decided to ask him something to get started.
"Who are you looking for?"
"Nothing," he said innocently.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
26.
"I didn't mean anything. I wanted to see if I could help."
"Oh! That's alright. So what brings you down here?"
"I was just going to ask you that," I said.
"Well I asked you first, right?" he laughed.
"Okay - well - I'm all for these nuclear weapons. Like the
slogan up on the building says we should vote for Canada."
"Yeah... right!"
"Well what do you think?"
"Yeah! I'm all for it."
"Is that all." I began to wonder about this guy. He was
skinny, had a mustache he kept scratching and his eyes were
watery.
"Hey, I'm one of those undecided voters. Okay?"
He walked away. There was no point in contradicting him, he
did it to himself. I let him go and looked for someone else.
Then I saw a seven or eight year old boy walking by me and
crouched down to talk to him, "Hey kid. Tell me why I should
vote for nuclear weapons."
He smiled at the challenge and said, "Well, you know."
"No," I said, "I don't. I want someone to give me a good
reason."
"I'm just here until lunchtime is over."
"Com'on; are you going to vote?"
"Yeah."
"If you're voting for the Yes side I want to know why."
"Okay!" he said still smiling but pausing to think. Because
I was squatting I had to look up at him a little. His left
eye moved slower than the right as he thought, looking into
the sky. Something I remembered learning years ago glashed
into my mind, 'Everybody is imperfect -' I ignored his bad
eye as best I could.
He warmedup what he had to say with a few unfinished
sentences, but I was eager to hear what he had to say, I
didn't interfere. "You know I think it's because - because
we're a big country and I heard a lot of small countries
have it and they try to tell us what to do all the time. It
makes us the same then if we have it."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
27.
I was asking him about the vote to learn what most people
there thought, but I ended up suddenly convinced.
Not knowing what to do with me, the boy thought I was finished
with him and he walked off. I was concentrating too deeply
on the topic to see him going until I wondered where he'd
gone and it was then I recalled from my unconscious memory
the sight of him leaving.
I had a job to do for the Red and Whites and I had to get
back to it. 'The Red and Whites must have a connection to
the government; they're too big not to be noticed - so what
if the government is publicly for this policy? They can't
always do things straightforward. Like int he Cadets - when
we learned about decoy and deception tactics within our own
ranks. There's no way for me to know what knowledge the Prime
Minister used when she made these decisions. So far she'd
done everything right in my eyes - I really should trust
her; she's earned that at least.'
I had stood up straight and stretched my legs out while I
thought it all out. It was time to hang around Alison again
and I jumped up and down to see her. I had a panic shock
when I didn;t see her anywhere near where I'd left her. In a
few seconds, though, I saw her with someone new. I walked to
her and she broke off her conversation to come beside me.
"This must be hard for you," she said. "Don't worry, I found
a target for the crowds' anger. Over there," she pointed up
the ramp to the UFO like city council chamber. More placards
were waving from up there. "You see they're against the
nuclear weapons. Bernard, just talk to people here and get
them upset at those people."
"But they're on our side. We don't want to hurt them."
"We do in this case. Stick with me this time and do the
straight man bit I suggested."
I hung back from Alison and when she stopped to talk to a
man, I stood behind this man with some other people and
pretended to be overhearing this converstation. The people
beside me started to forget their own activities and listened
with me to Alison and the man.
"They're spitting on us from up there", said Alison. "They
called to me as I walked by and some guy spit down at me."
"That was only one man. Don't get so upset. They're not all
like that", said the man.
"Yeah, but they're all up there. Why should they have the
high ground when they only have a few dozen protesters; we
have way over a thousand people."
That was my cue to elaborate, I said, "... Yeah."
A woman to my right seconded my opinions.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
28.
"Aren't we here to show the reporters who hs the most
support?" Alison said. "See how the reporters are talking to
those protestors, have you seen anyone of us being
interviewed?"
"Yeah!..."I said.
Alison looked at me along with the rest. I guessed I said
'yeah' at the wrong time. I said to them, "I menat,
'Yeah...who has... seen anyone being interviewed?'"
Then the man talking to Alison said, "The reporters are
probably up there to get a good shot of us."
Alison rolled her eyes and said to the man, You're probably
right."
She walked away and I soon after caught up to her as she
called to someone. When I could see who she had called for
it turned out to be the tall irritable man with the mustache
that I'd tried to talk to earlier.
"Hey, Joe," she said, "get up there and get them rude."
At first this Joe pretended not to notice me but then Alison
pointed at me with a jerk of her head and said to him, "He's
one of us."
Joe and I nodded to each other. Alison then said, "Okay, get
going and stop wiping your swety hands on your pants. It
makes you look really nervous."
Joe went off and Alison said to me, "He's new like you but
we had time to train him somewhat. He's from the other squad
that's here. Hey don't worry aboput what happened back there.
It's the nature of our work to make mistakes. Let's split
up. I'll take the car back - if everything works like it
should this afternoon. You make your own way back; so will
the others." She took off towards the ramp area.
I knew it was up to me to do the hob on my own. I began to
crave a taste of that crystal drug in those pamphlets I had
earlier. It must have helped me before when I needed to get
through the wedding. It probably helped me that those
arresting cops forced an overdoseon me when the gashin my
cheek was becoming too painful. I wondered where I could get
some more. I looked through the crowd for one of those creeps
that give then away then I remembered the cop that arrested
me, how he regarded the fact that I had the pamphlets. I was
sure then that the Red and Whites wouldn't like me to use
the stuff. I went back to my duty of creating a riot.
I knew from my Cadet training in insurgency that you must
look for weak spots in the enemy. So I wandered through the
ccrowd listening for the most belicose and idiotic comments
and arguments.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
29.
"The world's ecology is going to be pulling the rug out from
under humanity if we don't have the weapons to stand up to
these polluters that dump in our seas," said a cadidate for
belicose but not for idiotic. I moved on through the crowd.
"I think it's so sexy to have a bunch of submarines pushing
their way under the sea through those tight little channels
in Nuniviut ready to push passed that frigid skin of ice to
shower the world with an experience that couldonly be compared
to the best orgasms." Definitely idiotic but not belicose. I
had to get a look at this girl with such a gift for avoiding
the subject. I pushed apart the shoulders blocking my view
and to my shock I saw Wen - still looking for some action.
She didn't see me so I quickly ducked and scurried away from
her. I became so nervous then, I didn;t know how I was going
to help the Red and Whites with her around. I had to talk to
Alison.
The last I saw of Alison, she was walking towards the
protesters on the ramp. That was where I went. But instead I
found a shouting match going on between the No protesters up
high on the top of the ramp and the Yes supporters far below.
The moment was perfect for one of us to set the riot off. I
looked for the reporters that had been with the No protesters
but I couldn't see them. I decided to hurry in case that Joe
was about to set it off himself.
I thought the pro-Red and White reporters wouldn't leave but
it seemed that no reporter was to be found. I knew how
important the news accounts would be for the success of this
day for us and I ran through the crowd bumping off people
looking in the most likely places to find one. But none were
in my sight. I went to the bottom of the ramp and ran up it
to get a better view of the perimeter and could only see one
TV crew and they were leaving. I had to act fast.
"YOU GODDAMN TRAITORS" I screamed as I ran up the ramp looking
in my pockets for something to thow. My pockets were empty
and I stopped running for a second to yell again; this time
over the concrete rail about the No supporters, 'I HATE
TRAITORS. NO MORE TRAITORS!" I thought of using a shoe to
throw at the No side. I hopped a few times up the ramp,
knocking my lucky dice off my teeth, as I took one off. Then
with my uneven step and while my sock slipped off my foot, I
charged up to the top of the ramp as some policement stood
by and watched me throw the first shoe. Once I'd thrown it I
stopped running and watched it land on the ground: the
protesters had moved aside to let it fall between them. no
explosion, no bang, no reaction except some scared expressions
from the protesters and a smile from one of the onlooking
police officers.
Then a rock was tossed from somewhere below me and a shower
of objects followed close behind pelting and scattering the
No side. A bunch of the protesters came at me, I turned and
ran as fast as I could, casuingmy bare foot to suffer a
pounding against the asphalt that was only mitigated by my
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
30.
fear of being trampled by the pitiless feet in pursuit of
me.
I looked for the TV crew despite my haste and saw them coming.
With my technologically handicapped bare foot, I speedily
limped to the bottom of the ramp in time to avoid a rush of
my momentary comrades going the opposite way to attack the
No protesters. I knew the job was finished and that it
wouldn't be a good idea to hang around and be on the news
myself. I was about to take off when I saw that Joe, my true
comrade was close behind me whirling around a leather belt
with a huge buckle and catching the heads of anybody in his
way. He sped through the gauntlet like it was wheat ready
for harvest, slashing furiously until he was slowed enough
by the natural resistance of human flesh to be pulled down
by his hair. I had one look at his face before he was dragged
down; it wasn't a nervous face I saw, but a vicious face
seemingly thrilled at the violence being done by him and to
him. I turned away disgusted.
I took off in the opposite direction from Joe then discovered
I was being spat on. Some disapproving mothers holding their
children were yelling and spitting at my face as I passed.
Telling me I ruined the whole rally. I should have felt some
pride at a job well done but I needed a shower too desperately
to feel any pride. Anyway I had been right not to worry about
the children.
"I bet you'll want to wash up," said Wen with a smirk and a
tight mini-skirt, "Here I am to save you again. Come on."
Wen ran out of the square, I wobbled. We crossed Bay St.
into Trinity Square and on we went further north to the subway
at Dundas. We got on a northbound train which pushed through
the darkness to wherever Wen was leading me.
Her mohawk was limp this time and the peach fuzz on either
side was blacker than the first time she rescued me. She
hadn't said anything to me the whole walk to the subway but
in it she relaxed and looked serious as she said, "I never
told Tannis that you killed your girlfriend, okay? I told
him your weird story you told me and he just jumped all over
it. Well, you know I've figured out he was afraid of you. He
used it to turn everybody against you when you were looking
for the job. I guess he thought you were his competition
cause you wouldn't listen to him. Nicola must be pissed off
with Tannis right? She is staying with you, right?"
"No," I said suddenly concerned for Nicola.
"Ray told us he left her with you."
"That's right he did." I had to yell for a second as the
wheels of the train squealed against the rails as we titled
around a bend. "We separated soon after that. I don't know
where she is."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
31.
"Hey don't worry about her so much. She can do better than
survive on her own; she ran our best scams, Tannis only acts
like our leader. He freaked out when she followed you. He
knew how important she is to us. We're so disorganized right
now he'd do anything to have her back."
"I've got to find her." I remembered that when I was arrested
the cops put her in another car. I thought she had betrayed
me but the cops were sent by the Red and Whites to collect
me. I knew they would be the ones to know. But I couldn't
let Wen find out what I was up to or that I could know where
Nicola was.
'Hey, don't go running off now. The cops must still be after
you," Wen said. She relaxed again and changed her attitude,
"Well, you know, I wouldn't be surprised if the cops were
following us now. We could do something like leave money
scattered on the ground again to slow them down." Wen smiled
and reached across the long seat and cupped her damp hand on
my cheek scar, "Nasty," she said. Then she stroked her thumb
across my lips. "That was fun that night wasn't it? - Stay
with me tonight? I've made enough of my own money to afford
my own flat. Tannis gets so jealous about me at the Rube's
house I had to get my own place to have any privacy. You
come home with me and I promise that I won't do anything
that you hadn't already fantasized about."
Nervously I laughed. I wondered if the spit had dried on me.
I steadily needed more air so I left my mouth open to make
it easier to breathe. I was so attracted to her I started to
shiver a little. Her tight mini-skirt had rolled up her legs
just from sheer desire, it was magic. She seemed uncomfortable
in her seat and she spread open then closed her smooth legs
until she was able to have the hem roll up on more time and
show me her lavender underwear.
"Okay, I'll stay with you," I said.
III
Even though I could see how the seams of her panties grabbed
the sides of her sheath and squeezed it into a soft welcoming
hello, I couldn't stop looking into the shadowy areas for
more of her body. Then, questions she was trying to ask began
dividing my attention. She wanted to know what had happened
to me after I smashed the table in the cafe. At first that
reminder embarrassed me. I didn't think she would know about
it. But I recovered and told her I wandered the streets and
slept in doorways for two nights; that I had only just bought
the clothes that I wore before the rally because I discovered
in myself my true vocation in life and I was about to start
my life over again.
"To start riots is your new vocation?"
I must have turned red but I was able to deflect it by asking
her why she was there. She said she went for fun.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
32.
The ride on the subway was so long and I wondered where she
was taking me. Eventually we reached the end of the line,
the Richmond Hill Station. She held me by the hand and led
me to the street level. I felt happy to hold her hand but
scared too for some reason.
We walked in the sunshine further north along Yonge Street.
The way we held hands, interlocking the fingers, we couldn't
help touching each other in different ways. Our hands bumped
each others hips and our forearms brushed while we changed
finger positions. Then Wen held my hand tight and stopped
walking. I stopped and she pulled me closer to her body.
With her free hand she lightly held my chin and moved her
lips closer to mine and just as she was going to go on her
toes to close the gap I pulled my head away. I had to blink.
I couldn't figure out why I was so scared. I could see in
the occasional glance that I was brave enough to take of her
that she still wanted me.
Wen dragged me on towards her goal. We crossed the noisy
traffic of Yonge Street to a narrow residential street and
walked west until we came to a semi-detached house. Wen took
me to a side entrance. She lived in the back half of it -
not a large enough space to make a comfortable flat, but it
seemed an appropriate place for Wen to take R and R, or in
Wen's case, F and F.
Once she had me in her room, she locked the door behind me
and hooked a finger on a belt loop of my pants then pulled
me towards her bed. I stood in front of her. With both hands
she grabbed the rim of my pants and undid the top button.
Just as she was searching for a grip on the zipper's tab I
spun away from her and did up the top button again.
"Come on! What is wrong with you?" Wen cried.
"I don't know, I'm really nervous!"
"Well, get your goddamn act together!" She was so upset she
threw down a condom she had hidden in her palm. Wen couldn't
look at me as I walked around her room to the opposite side
of the bed from her.
"You know, I changed my hair to get you. See that," she
pointed at her head, "I don't make it stand up anymore. And
see, I'm letting it grow on the sides. You're so bloody
conservative that ... You know, it just struck me you're
just like someone who never had sex before."
"I've had sex!"
"Yeah! At birth with your mother."
"With Z... My girlfriend."
"From the look of it, your experience would be no different
either way."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
33.
"I'm not used to other women, okay?"
"What a joke." She got up off her bed and walked out of her
room.
"I'm sorry!" I yelled but she probably didn't hear.
I sat down on her bed, so upset I had to grab the bed post
to stop myself from collapsing on the mattress. In front of
me I could see her backyard. It was overgrown and a rotten
apple tree blocked light from getting in the window. I had
never picked an apple from a tree before, so I stood up opened
the window and twisted one off a branch. But the last tug I
took to get it off sent a shower of other ones smashing on
the ground. My fingers sunk into the one I plucked. I threw
it down and wiped my hands on the window sill.
Wen didn't know what she was talking about. Zinta and I had
made love many times - I was just being loyal to her. She
had just been murdered and I was responsible for letting it
happen. It wasn't the time to fool around on her. It was the
time to find out who really killed her. Those two cops must
have done it and I was sure they were renegades. The Red and
White's would have nothing to do with them. The cops that
arrested me knew nothing about Zinta while the ones that
followed me to my wedding knew. They had to be renegades. I
could find them. I knew I could. And I was going to find
Nicola too. This was no time to fool around with Wen. I
decided to leave.
I walked to the edge of her room and looked out. She wasn't
in the eating area or the kitchen. I leaned on the door frame
and called out for her. She answered from the basement. I
yelled to her as I walked towards the main door to let myself
out that it was time for me to go. "I think you would prefer
that I went somewhere else! Okay? I'm just going to let myself
out! Alright? Here I go!" I pulled open the door when I
heard her behind me. To be polite I turned to say good-bye
to her face. She was visibly angry but hopeful, maybe even
vengeful. Then I looked down at her body. She had peeled off
her mini-skirt and was wearing only a lavender thong panty
and no top. The last time I had seen a thong like it I had
been pulling one down with my teeth from Zinta's waist.
"No, Wen" I said, "I must go. I must go."
"Do you remember what we wanted you to get from the post
office!"
"Yeah, the package. Have you got it now?" I took a step
backwards into the dark alcove and felt around for the last
door handle.
"it was only a cake after all - " She lifted a pistol from
behind her back until the darkness of the hollow barrel
extended into my sight and puffed a glowing dot that divided
the air by my right ear with a snap, a slight breeze, and an
explosion of the wood behind me. I froze.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
34.
"-With three inedible plastic guns." She lowered the gun
with a smile. Then she stepped towards me lifting the gun
again, high enough to pry apart the top button of my pants
and lead me with the other hand by the zipper tab into her
bedroom. Using the warm pistol barrel like I used my fingers
she slipped off my pants then pushed me down and pulled off
my clothes. She straddled over me as I lay on my back and
she perceptively took what I knew to be my largest finger.
Using the gun stuck into my stomach as a way to balance over
me she shivered when she stroked the surface of her clitoris
with my hijacked finger.
I wasn't thinking of resisting but of how to get involved.
Wen pulled my finger up and down over her thong, while I
looked at the base of her smooth breasts, until she finally
sunk my finger through her wet surface, straight inside;
then I was ready for her.
"I'll do it for you!" I said with a dry voice.
"You can forget it!" she said while she kept on with exactly
what she had been doing all along.
'At least she likes me,' I thought when she silently opened
her mouth and reached inside of her inner body to find that
complete, inspired sexual tremble. She came.
IV
Once would be enough for me, but she thrust her sheath back
on my finger again when I tried to take it out and kept
herself coming until her vocal rumblings climaxed and she
threw the gun on the floor. She fell forward onto my chest
twisting my head back. She yelled from the pain my levered
finger caused inside her until she lifted her hips off me
and I took it out. Then she fell back down again and rolled
to my side. I felt my body with my dry hand and realized I
had come too - only a little thought.
"Don't even think about going for the gun," she said getting
up and picking up the gun, but not pointing it at me. "It's
so hard to get a gun in this fucked country. There's no way
you'd get out of here with it while I'm around. Get your
clothes and get out."
I stood up wiping off my finger on the edge of the bed and
then got dressed. I was really upset about what she did. But
I was in no position to complain. I decided to get out as
quickly as possible. At that point I suddenly recalled that
the Red and Whites said that they had an operation against
the Rubes involving a special device which was probably the
package. If the package contained guns it was obviously going
to be a serious operation, perhaps to charge the Rubes with
gun possession. But three guns between ten people didn't
seem an effective tactic. I wasn't going to warn her after
what she did to me and after being kicked out of their group.
I had my revenge by not telling her; I smiled at her to show
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
35.
her that I still had a reserve of dignity as I walked out
the door.
I walked back to Richmond Hill Station and took the train
south and thought about where to go next. I didn't know if I
should go back to Front Street to see my office or go back
to the Barracks in Scarborough. I tried to decide based on
my desire to find Nicola and whoever killed Zinta. I thought
that it would be best to have the computer to help me discover
both answers and it was the Dominion Building on Front I
headed to.
I'd been smelling something unpleasant for some time as I
sat on the subway so I looked around to see what it was. I
looked under the seat and on the back rest until I realized
it was my hand. More exactly, my victimized finger. I put it
against my nose, then repulsed, I sat on it.
It was rush hour on the subway by the time I arrived at Union
Station. I walked through the crowds across Bay Street into
the postal building, the way I'd entered when I had been
looking for the customs job on the first day. The man that
had hired me wasn't there. I walked down some empty corridors
looking for the way into the Red and Whites' basement offices
but couldn't find the way. I was too lazy to want to walk
all the way around the building to the proper entrance so I
went looking for short cuts in dead ends and by other wasteful
methods. Eventually, I went into an office and asked a
receptionist how to get into the basement and he told me
there was no way into the basement. I gave up and walked all
the way around to the back and as far as the thick security
doors. I buzzed and someone grumbled through teh intercom,
"Use your pass or go through the front of the building."
"Hey, I wasn't given one."
"Then go through the front."
"Bill didn't give me one."
"What's your name."
"Bernard Kimosa."
He didn't reply and I waited for something to happen. n a
minute or more Bill came to the door and let me in.
"Sorry for not giving you a pass. It was so hectic here I
just forgot," said Bill. "Hey, I heard you did a good job at
the riot. Some good copy is going to go over the wire right
now. We're cleaning it up. It needs it... I've got to remember
that we still haven't trained you yet. You're such a natural
at this it's easy to forget. Let's go back to your office
and I'll try and get you caught up.
We walked to the office Bill had given me the day before. He
told me to sit in front of the computer terminal. He sat on
the side table and began to explain.
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36.
"The Red and Whites are a patriotic group made up of what
are in fact the only true citizens left in this country.
There are some of us in government no matter which party's
in power, but we always have work to do. We're allies of
these good people but not slaves. They can't manipulate us.
Our agendas are the same - that's our link. I bet you often
wondered why crime is so rare in Canada, why we live so long,
why teh economy is always growing, why, even, that we're so
happy about our whole society. The reason is that the Red
and Whites manage it all. That is what we do. We recognized
long ago that the faith in Canada is what keeps it together.
Not the programs or the investments. The faith inthe results.
Not the resutls themselves. Just by maintaining that faith
in a pragmatic fashion throughout the country, the country
had indeed become great. And you may find this hard to
believe, our greatest ally and enemy in this battle is
freedom. We have had to maintain the personal identification
everybody had with freedom to keep this faith in the country
and at the same time, stop the rot it creates in that faith.
People start to think it's okay to steal, pollute, and commit
suicide. We cannot be free to think this way if we, the rest
of us, cherish life in all its glory."
I was so impressed with his comments I didn't mind being
told that we weren't with the government after all. We did
have good reasons to have done things like creating the riot.
It all seemed to fit perfectly with my search for Zinta's
killers and for Nicola.The cops that arrested her might even
have been the same ones that killed Zinta.
"What is that smell?" asked Bill. "There's a bit of apple
smell to it but something else too."
I sat on my finger again.
"Oh, I can't figure it out. It's gone now. Back to my intro.
Let me think ... Freedom. The funn 
