Reeducation
"Cecil, I am calling for… personal reasons. I think."
"Ohhhhh?" Cecil's heart fluttered a little as it always did when Carlos called.
"I… I just received a letter from… from the toaster."
"Oh, the City Council?"
"Yes! Is that… is that normal?"
"The City Council usually uses the toaster. Not always, though, I once found a message in my egg carton."
"That's… anyway, I… Cecil, I'm supposed to report to City Hall tonight at 7:00 for reeducation."
"Uh-huh?"
"Well… I… Cecil, I've never gone through reeducation, and frankly, the idea is completely abhorrent. I'm not going."
"Not going? Carlos, you have to go. You were issued a summons."
"I – Cecil, I CAN'T! I'm not going to let anyone… poke in my mind and change my thoughts, torture me…"
"Whoa, whoa, who said anything about torture?"
"Well… well what is it, then?"
"Carlos, listen to me. It's not a big deal. I've gone through hundreds of reeducation sessions. There's no torture involved, it's not that bad at all. …In fact, I have it on good authority that it will be much WORSE, in fact, if you don't show up. Oh, much worse."
"Cecil I CAN'T be… r-reeducated. I can't. I won't."
"Carlos, I promise it isn't as bad as you think."
"I CAN'T, Cecil."
"…If you don't go, they'll come for you. And not gently. If you go on your own, they won't do a thing to you."
"Except reeducate me."
"I'll go with you."
"…What?"
"I'll go with you, so you don't have to go alone your first time. I know it's… strange and frightening when you don't know what to expect."
"Can you… stop them from doing anything to me?"
"I'll do everything in my power to make sure they go easy on you. It's your first time, after all, and you're not from here. You don't know all our rules and customs yet. You're still learning."
"Y-yeah. Right. I'll… You'll come with me? You don't mind?"
"Of course not. I'll be over in a bit."
"Okay… Okay. Thank you, Cecil. See you soon."
The two men walked to City Hall arm in arm, Carlos rigid and shaking. It was a bit of a long walk, but Carlos didn't want to be trapped in a little car. They walked up the steps and through the heavy tinted glass doors.
"Carlos the Scientist?"
Carlos leapt and gave a strangled yelp. There was a… person right next to him, shrouded in a balaclava.
"We've been waiting for you."
"Wh-who the hell are YOU!?"
The person's eyebrows knitted together. "I've been assigned to watch you since you arrived." He (or she) sounded a little hurt.
"…Your own Secret Police Officer watching you, just like a native citizen!" Cecil elbowed him gently. "And a good one too, if you haven't noticed!"
"Hm." She (or possibly he) gave a short nod. "This way."
They walked down dark halls with high ceilings and slippery floors. At last they stopped and the Secret Police Officer opened a door. "Only the candidate for reeducation may enter."
"Of course," Cecil said. He turned to Carlos and squeezed his shoulders, his face very serious. "You'll be fine," he said softly. "I promise. I'll be waiting for you here."
Carlos gulped, his head swimming, and walked into the little room. He was ushered to a massive chair that might have been carved out of bones. A different balaclava-clad figure appeared in the corner when the door closed, and glided up to sit across from him (in a chair apparently made of leaves). This one was definitely female, older, and with a gravely voice.
"Carlos the Scientist?" she asked suspiciously.
"I have a last name," Carlos replied faintly.
"Please answer yes or no."
"Ah… yes. Yes, that's me."
"We have received reports that you've been using writing utensils, specifically blue Bic ball-point pens."
"Uh… I… Look, I'm a scientist. There are things I need to write down. Notes, reports… Lots of things."
"Yes or no."
"Yes. Yes, because I need them for my work."
"Yet you haven't submitted Form 68-G."
"I'm sorry?"
"Form 68-G, Request for Accommodations of Special Needs in Relation to Objects Banned by City Ordinance."
"Um… I didn't know."
"We are aware of that, which is why we brought you here to reeducate you. So that you will be more prepared in the future."
"…Oh. Really?"
"I have here a copy of the form."
"Thank you… wait, how am I supposed to fill it out without a pen or something?"
"It has already been filled out by your Secret Police Representative."
"Oh… Okay."
"It just requires your signature and a personal statement."
"A personal statement?"
She leaned down and stared hard into the scientists eyes. "That you have NOT been using writing implements, nor will you do so in the future. The items you have been using are, in fact, twigs."
"Twigs?"
"Twigs," she intoned with unshakable finality.
"Ah… got it. They're twigs. They always have been. Always will be."
"Thank you."
"I'll just sign… can I borrow a… twig?"
"Don't be ridiculous, we don't keep twigs inside. What an idea. Give me your finger."
Carlos offered his hand uncertainly, and his index finger was quickly pricked on a needle, then pressed to the paper. He jumped, and sucked on his bleeding finger morosely.
"Please be on your way, Mr. Scientist," the woman said breezily. "We have a lot of reeducation to do tonight, and we need this room available immediately."
Carlos walked out in a daze. Cecil was there smiling anxiously.
"Was it okay? Are you?" he asked nervously.
"Fine. I'm just fine. From the way you talk about it, I thought… it would be something more sinister."
Cecil smiled fondly and leaned in to place a light kiss on Carlos's temple. "Lovely, perfect Carlos… You worry too much."
"I guess…" They stepped out into the fading light, with no recollection of walking back through the hallways. "Do you want to… take a walk through Mission Grove Park on our way home?"
"Oh Carlos, nothing would please me more."