Utopias [first version]

Ren

When I reach the car, I abruptly stop my hand on the door handle. I suddenly realize I haven't seen my sister in quite a while. I wonder why. We used to be very close until she started working 4 years ago. What did mom say? "Mylie is starting a new career path today", I guess she may just be busy, but then again maybe not. I should just ask her. So I pull on the door handle and sit down in the car, one leg in-one leg out, just in case her story isn't believable enough and my eyes start watering. Understanding and empathy are always the instant response when one cries, but Mylie always made fun of me for it, so I learned to avoid any display of negative emotions in front of her. I still miss her though, so if her story is made up, I know I'll take it personally.

"Hi." I say.

"Hey Ren, how are you feeling today?"

"Confused. You hate picking me up. I apparently always find a way to go the furthest away from your destination as possible, just to spite you, remember?"

"Haha yes, I did say that. Well turns out my new offices are very close to your school, so I thought, why not? Plus I missed you and your dreadlocks."

"Mhm..thanks." I say, unconvinced.

I look out the window, and consider if the possibility of walking in the middle of the streets and attracting all kinds of reprimanding looks is better than riding with a sister I haven't spoken to in months. As I consider my alternative, my eyes fall on two well dressed officials across the street where they parked their car. One is a woman, her hair, a mix of copper and hazelnut shades, is up in a bun. She looks serious in a disconcerting way. Her eyes are unforgiving, and they are even more intimidating paired with her tall and bulky frame. I wonder if she is an official from the defense department of the Organization. In fact, both members look as if they are. The man is just as tall and just as large, with obsidian skin and the same look upon his face. They certainly are a threatening pair. They finally stopped in front of the house they are to visit. Wait. Is this my parent's house?

"Mylie. Why are there members of the Organization knocking at our parent's door? It's flattering but also unlikely. Should we go check?" I ask, surprised.

"No, No. I'm sure it's fine."

"I don't know My, I mean you should see, dad hasn't quite been himself and mom has a hard time pretending everything is ok anymore. Especially with the neighbors. Maybe someone reported him."

Anxiety rises in my stomach as I also ponder the possibility. But, it's only been a year, why would they be here for him? They can't be here for him. I hope they aren't. They disappear inside our family house.

"Com'on My!" I stand and start running towards the door.

 ***

Turns out, Miss tall-and-agressive and Mister tall-and-rude are not from the defense department of the Organization. They are from its career control center.

"Your dad was reported 3 months ago. We've been following him since to get a better understanding of what is afflicting him. Everybody was quite fond of him, prior to this change.", says tall-and-aggressive. "We are here today to warn you that after careful examination, we have no choice but to deem him upathosian. We have to send him to the factories, where he will be with others who understand him."

Unpathosian, disconnected from all emotions, some born some changed, are sent to the factories by the Organization, where they can be with their kind. Unpathosians do not feel the need to connect with their career path, and since the chemical creation of food is a career path that stirs no emotional connection, unpathosians are at ease in this environment, they are more productive to the community there. They live and work with people like them, they are happier there, or wheatver their equivalent of happy is. Empathy stretches very wide in the world, but it tends to snap back when it reaches acceptance of unpathosians without judgements, so they are also sent to the factories for their safety. 

Becoming unpathosian rather than being born one is a sign of cowardice and a shame to a family. As I see how accepting my dad is of this faith, without any concerns for others, I feel anger rising with every sign of neutrality he shows. He has no emotions, the Organization is right. He gave up on us and on himself. He just let it happen, he even sped it up. I can't suppress this anger. It's a fire within, a fire I can't tame. I can't embrace it and I can't control it. Just like a volcano, I erupt. I run to him, red in my blood, red in my face, I pin him to the wall. My eyes are blazing but they are only met by emptiness; his eyes are unchanged by my actions.

"Why!? Why did you do this to us? Why did you give up? Explain it to me. Explain it now! How dare you? How dare you? You son of a bitch! I wish you were dead!" I push harder to the wall, shake him hard, over and over again, as if I can shake the emptiness out of him. All that without taking my eyes off of his. As I stare, I discern something in his eyes, like the spark of a faded emotion. I slowly let go of him, thinking I may have my father back, but when I finally blink and reopen my eyes, it's gone. The spark probably never existed. I want it so much, I invented it. My anger transforms into despair at the sudden realization. I don't care if he's unpathosian, I want my father to stay. I hear my mother and sister weep behind me and starts weeping as well.

"Jerika," tall-and-rude asks, "Want to control that boy of yours? It's not the right time for such a display of emotion."

"Of course Sir. Sorry", my mom replies.

She wipes the tears off her cheeks and slowly walks towards me. She gently pulls me away. "Where is you empathy Ren? Have we...", she pauses and looks at my father – or is it at the agents? – "Have I not raised you better?" Her comment slaps me hard and all I can do is look down in shame. As the Organization pulls my father away, I understand that I will never see him again.

Once the agents are gone, my mom turns to me and shoots me a hard glance, her eyes are neither angry nor sad, they are serious and their weight is surprising. She comes closer to me, squeezes my shoulder for emphasis and says: "Never show too much of your emotions when the Organization is present, show them only what they expect and never more." It seems more like a warning than genuine concern, but before I can ask her any questions she walks swiftly away. I have a feeling, the matter is closed and I will never hear of it again.