Not Asking Questions
A new short story
Come to think of it, it didn’t really take me long after moving here to kind of figure out how things work here. I thought it would take me longer. You know, in the outside world you hear so much about this place; people talk about it with real fear though they don’t understand it very well. There was actually one experience I had that really helped me understand this place. It helped me grow as a person as well.
When immigration authorities accepted me, I was assigned to the same place that I live now. I’m on the top floor of a four-storey block of flats on Cerebrum Street, if you know where that is. It’s sort of near the Omega metro station. I live alone and back then I just wasn’t really integrated into the community like I am now so I was lying on my bed trying to read and feeling very, very lonely the night that I heard sirens coming from the direction of the Great Hospital. They weren’t ambulance sirens which I had long since gotten used to so I got up and had a look. I couldn’t focus on the book anyway. It was one that had been assigned to me by immigration and I struggled to understand such things then. Although the cars that came around the corner were matt-black and had no markings I knew that I was seeing the city police for the first time since I had moved here. It was amazing when they stopped outside my block and gave me a clear view. Of the dark-uniformed masked figures that emerged from the cars. Their only uniform was a city insignia sown onto the right shoulder and their automatic rifles glinted evilly in the white electric light. I backed away from the window. Had I done something wrong? I had heard stories before, of new arrivals such as myself breaking one of the many laws that were important to the people of this city but inexplicable to us. I didn’t know much about the police, but everyone knows that they are not forgiving of trespassers. I breathed a sigh of relief, they went straight around my building, to the side where I didn’t have a view. I heard one of them call something out and then a high-pitched screeching sound – like metal – followed by a few gunshots. One of the cars – a big van with no windows in the back I guess still had someone in it because it started and then drove around to the back.
Nothing happened for a long time. Or at least it felt like a very long time. Straight after the van left, I saw three figures coming around the side of the building. Two of them carrying a third one in the middle. The third one looked in a very bad way. His black uniform was torn from his left leg all the way up to his side and he was streaked with blood. To my shock, his mask was gone and I could see his face. It was a very young face. Younger than me and very pale. His lips were moving but I don’t think any sound was coming out. They took him inside a car but didn’t drive off. They didn’t come out again.
It was impossible to focus on my book now. I looked out the window to the lights of the city and thought that for all my attempts to integrate here the place still felt like a fever-dream come to life. I knew that somewhere in that hazy maze of regular lights were the great monuments of this city. The Arch of Authority, the Philosophers’ Palace, and the Opulence parks but all I could discern were the endless, endless rows of flats, of houses, of industrial estates, of office blocks. Maybe they were right about this place in the outside, that it was an intrusion from another world, that it had no right existing.
The police cars weren’t budging and curiosity was getting the better of me. Not good, the books they assigned to me said a lot of things but they all warned against curiosity. It was fine in some parts of the world, they said, but not here. It will be cold at, I told myself. By work tomorrow morning you won’t care anymore if you missed it. Even if you do see it who do you have to tell a cool anecdote to. It wasn’t working and soon I told myself that I could go out and have a look but if ordered back I must obey immediately. I grabbed the sheepskin coat, which had belonged to my grandfather a long time ago and headed outside. Back then I hadn’t learned that it never really gets too hot or too cold here.
Nobody told me to turn back and even though nobody else had come to see none of the police seemed surprised at my presence, they didn’t even seem to notice it. The masked faces swept past mine without saying a word. The single police van was brightly lit by the blue and red sirens flashing above of it and a group of officers were talking in front of it, their arms crossed and faces invisible beneath the masks. I got the impression that they were frowning. Lit as it was the van was actually a kind of beautiful sight and I stared at if for a while. Then someone screamed and banged against the wall.
I started. The police officers looked up too and hesitated before starting to talk amongst each other again. I wondered if they were going to order me away now but still no one took any notice and I edged closer to the van. Whoever was inside struck again and this time the van actually gave a definite jolt, turning from side to side. I swallowed but still moved closer. Had they arrested a junkie going through withdrawal? The scream came again and I realised that it wasn’t a scream, not exactly. It was louder than the siren and more like metal scraping than a human voice. What kind of person was in that thing?
“He’s not a person really. Not anymore.” Said a voice from behind me. I turned around and it was the young officer I’d seen earlier. His wound was still there but not bleeding anymore. He was using a crutch to walk. “Are you sure you want to see him? He’s not very pleasant. It took us ages to find him.”
“Yeah, I want to see. Am I allowed?”
“Of course. You know the risks, its up to you.”
I wasn’t sure if I did know the risks but I wanted to see. One more step and I could see the cage behind the driver’s seat that they had kept it in. The officers noticed me for the first time now and looked up. Another step and I could see him, what they were keeping in the van.
I shut my eyes quickly but the image was burned into my head. “Fucking hell!”
“You should have known better.” The young policeman said gently. He put his arm around my shoulder and began guiding me back to the flat. “When you’re ready, open your eyes.”
I did and two empty black sockets stared back at me. He had put his mask back on. “You’re new here, aren’t you? I’m sorry I didn’t realise.”
“Yeah” I said thickly, “I’m new.”
“There’s no need to be ashamed of yourself. A lot of newbies would have fainted after seeing that. Think you’ll be able to sleep tonight? I can vouch for you if you need to ask your employer for a day off.”
“I can sleep.”
“You sure?”
“Sure.”
It took some whisky and a lot of deep breaths but eventually I did manage a few hours of sleep that night. My brain was foggy the next day but after I recovered, I began to understand why things are the way they are here. I thought less about my old home, on the outside, and more about my new one. I guess you could say that I finally got it. That’s why, these days, when there’s a strange light in the sky I don’t look up. When I hear a voice of someone who isn’t really there, I don’t stop and acknowledge it. If I hear police sirens go by my window, I don’t get curious anymore. It’s the way things work in this place and it all makes sense well enough, as long as you’re not asking questions.