The Turning Point

Forget Me Not

Smile!

Arthur Hastings did not want to smile. He wanted to frown, he wanted to talk about the corrupt society at hand. Arthur Hastings did not want to smile, at all. Luckily, his mask did the job for him. A mask, physically - though perhaps it was metaphorical too.. the other citizens of the ruptured Wellington Wells didn't seem to notice this. The more he thought about it, the more hopeless he became. Stupid. Tired, and stupid.

His 'friends' said to 'smile!', his parents had told him to 'smile'. 'Smile always!'. His parents were not here anymore. No longer should Arthur have beared their voices at the back of his mind. Though the Bobbies on the street.. how they convinced him otherwise. Many things convinced him otherwise. Like what? Like the crushing weight of this dictated, Joy-taking society pushing down on his chest. Just the thought of figuring out his own past.. his own individuality.. the sinfulness of it all made him lose his breath momentarily. How could he become such a person? It was disgusting.

The clock struck five, and Arthur censored yet another newspaper. This government regime was starting to become tiring. But no-one could know how he felt. No-one would believe him either way. The door handle pushed downwards, and in came Victoria Byng, her whip resting gently by her belt, and her red-gloved hands on her hips.

"Arthur."

"Miss Byng-!"

Victoria laughed slightly at his surprise. He must have been absorbed in his work.

"Are you coming to the party tonight?"

What party?

"There's going to be a piñata! I wouldn't want you to miss it. Please arrive in the conference room presently."

"Sure.. sure.. I'll be there. I will be there. Just give me a few more minutes.. hours.."

"Don't be silly, Hastings. I'll see you in no less than a moment."

And she was gone again. Arthur rested his head in his hands. He hated parties. Especially office parties.. what the hell was a piñata anyway? But.. he should listen to Victoria..

Grabbing the last newspaper of the evening, his stomach suddenly churned upon seeing the headline, and inevitably, the first paragraph or two.

Hastings Brothers Win Scrap Gathering Prize.
June 4th, 1947.

Percival and Arthur Hastings were the surprise winners of the scrap drive. Arthur told the judges that his brother had a photographic memory. "Percy knew exactly where all the old cars and prams and things were in the Garden District." Percival himself rarely speaks to strangers, apparently.

Percival..

Percy...

It all flooded back. Arthur looked around, checking to see if Victoria was definitely gone. She could not catch him like this. The bottle of Joy pills stood at the corner of his desk.

"I should just take my Joy.. shouldn't I..?"

The whistle of a train deafened him, along with the cries of his brother, screaming his name.

"I should. Just. Take it."

Reaching out to the bottle, more cries made him flinch back.

"God damnit! I don't want to remember. Arthur, get yourself together!"

One more reach, and suddenly, a change of heart. His Joy was wearing off anyway. Two a day.. he'd only taken one. He pushed the other pill off the desk and violently grabbed the bottle, and threw it into the bin on the other side of the room.

He had to leave.

"Arthur, are you coming, or not?"

Victoria Byng stood in the doorway.