Authors: Matthew Formby
Getting rid of people did not even have to be done obviously. It could be made to look like a suicide. How could anybody really know whether a dead body that could not talk had been overdosed by the soul of its own master or by that of another? False witnesses could be paid or planted by the secret services who would appear like ordinary members of the public and give whatever impression was desired: "it was just an accident," or, "the person seemed depressed before they died." Luke recalled the famous death of Michael Hastings, an investigative journalist who had received details from a hack about how the FBI were secretly targeting journalists who opposed the new authoritarian surveillance state. He had been preparing an article about it when he had one day crashed his car, which set on fire and burned him to death. With all the technological advances now available, it was possible his car had been tinkered with to make it speed - as certainly the car was shown speeding on a surveillance camera of the incident, yet who was to say it had been done by Michael's own hand? It was incredibly naive of people to think that government agencies able to hack into anyone's computer or phone would use such powers only to combat extremists. Corruption has always existed - governments have favoured certain private companies who have paid them bribes, illegal bypasses of laws have been made and unfair advantages given. Capitalism in its purest form has perhaps never existed - it has frequently been marred with protectionism and cronyism. But with this new technology the potential had grown a thousandfold.
Thus a democratic tradition of openness and fairness would gradually be watered down if these authoritarian, militarized agencies got their way; and a new lax approach to human rights and the equitable distribution of the law would be taken advantage of to assassinate political and economic - and even personal - opponents of the elite. It could all be dismissed as a conspiracy theory and Luke did not believe his suspicions religiously - he was open minded, ready to be proven wrong. It was sensible, though, to come to the conclusion that all the evidence showed that secret agents behaved no differently than how oppressive henchmen of megalomaniacal rulers always had - whether their paymasters be olde English kings and queens, an East Asian emperor, the Nazis or their agency superiors.
It was not difficult for them to make a death appear justified - say someone was a terrorist, a brutal murderer or something equally sensational - then leak grisly details through the media. If possible, in little bursts, drip fed over a few days to hook people in and suspend their disbelief. Once people's emotions had been manipulated, they could turn the whole spectacle into a macabre entertainment. The public's inquisitive nature was then easily overridden, for they would say, "Ah yes, that person deserved it. They were
evil
!" The evidence was always anecdotal - mere words - and provided generally by no one but the police or secret agents themselves. Even when an charge put against someone was unfathomably immoral or cruel it was still only a charge until that person was proven guilty. If it was all a little demanding for law enforcement, tough! Because that was what the American Constitution had supposed to protect - the rights of the individual from tyranny. The constitution that governed the world's most influential country - one of the most important document in history; but did anyone remember or care? Not to mention the Geneva Convention on Human Rights.
The only way out of this cacophony of carnage and horrors to Luke's mind was going back to Thomas Jefferson's ideals. To make everything smaller: stop supporting large football teams involved with huge sums of money and get involved in local sport instead; get rid of corporations and replace them once again with family and individual owned farms; put small shops and restaurants in the place of fast food chains; replace overgrown cities divorced from nature that monopolise all public facilities with smaller towns by rivers, lakes, forests, beaches, wildflower meadows and farms. And most crucially people had to demand a smaller government and one that had no military that was disconnected from the people - just as in Switzerland, the people must be the military. The important thing too was in reducing government to not take away support from elderly and disabled people and those unable to work nor those who worked and needed extra support. If such support could be provided through local providers it would seem better and less intrusive - but on no condition could people give up the obligation to help the needy; to do so would be to neglect the responsibilities placed on existence by God, or the Gods, or the universe or whatever was out there.
For all these reasons, life on a daily basis was no longer fun for Luke. New crime shows were commissioned at the drop of a hat that pervaded the public consciousness with fear of one another - rather than the cruel system itself. These shows pandered to people's basest instincts; their thirst for action, sex and violence. It had become a race to the bottom. The worst shows tended to get the best ratings. These shows portrayed only a very narrow portion of the palette of life and they infected their viewers with an unnecessarily drab and depressing outlook on humanity. Luke would head out for the day with thoughts of Tess of the D'urbervilles or Lawson's Creek in his mind, of love and pure aspiration, but other people's minds differed. They might be fans of The Big Bang Theory or Mock The Week, the latter of which Luke actually liked - but people's ironic outlooks clashed with Luke's. It was a peculiar problem of the age, this post-modern conflict between people's artistic influences. One man's earnestness was another's social ineptitude. Some wanted to be sarcastic, others indignantly serious - some to gossip as in their favourite magazines, others to talk about betting on horses. Many people Luke met were in a bad mood about trivialities - that they had lost money on a betting machine or the lottery. It was naturally natural they should be happy; they were throwing away their only stake in life on a child's false hope. Most would never bother to vote, something that would actually give them a chance to improve their lot in life but they were all too happy to treat with importance throwing their money away. It was chaos to Luke - what a load of hot air and noise amounting to nothing.
New sculptures, religions, books, TV shows, films, songs, radio shows and websites were invented every day. More branches of thought and lifestyle adding to the confusion. How it could all continue cohesively was baffling. Luke loved reading but going into a bookshop could be disorientating; there were so many books and whichever he decided to read would somehow change him. How could he pick out of the multitude available? Which brought Luke back to people's obsession with crime. Of all the things people could be interested in in their short time on earth, why crime? Everyone was made of blood and bones and had to expel waste from their body in an undignified way - but some people rather than wallow in such low facts of life, looked to the heavens. Cynics, for all their knowledge, did not know the greatest thing of all: hope. That anybody alive even existed, when they may not have done, proved there was hope.
Most unexpectedly, hope paid a visit to Luke when his birthday came around. His mother's present for him surprised him: it was a gift token for a visit to a psychic tarot reader in Woecaster. Luke did not usually think about what might be written in the stars. Now he began to wonder about his destiny. When he dropped in to see the psychic lady, a short woman called Gwendolyn, he was asked to shuffle three decks of cards. They were then each dealt in turn by her. She asked him, "Has somebody recently passed away?"
He struggled to think. A smirk coloured his face. This lady was a fraud, he was certain of it. Then he remembered. "My grandmother died a couple of years ago."
"Yes, that's right. She's there with you. She says everything is fine."
Luke was unimpressed. She had only asked if someone had died. He had confirmed it and told her who - hardly evidence she was psychic. Then Gwendolyn said, "You've fallen in love recently. It hasn't gone well. But within the next two to three years you will find someone." She fell silent for half a minute, looking around restlessly. Blinking her eyes a lot, she then continued, "Do you do any writing?"
Luke laughed. "No." First a death, then a vague promise of future love... It was yet another random topic she was pulling out of the air. What a load of nonsense, he thought. It was said everyone thought of writing at some stage in their life - generally an autobiography. Well, why not? Everyone loved the sound of their voice and their own tale. She is only speaking generalities, thought Luke. Cleverly - but I see no psychic activity.
Gwendolyn frowned at him, perhaps conscious of his disbelief.
"You're going to do some writing. You've got a talent for it but don't know it yet. You should try automatic writing. It's where you put your pen on a paper and let it move unconsciously. Go for it, see what you come out with."
He nodded but inwardly sighed. What did this have to do with his fortune? He wanted to know about Jolly, getting away from Woecaster, some light that could guide him from his darkness.
"You've lost weight recently, haven't you?"
"Yeah," confirmed Luke."
"Who's a drama queen?"
Luke could not help laugh. "I think that's me."
"Yeah - try not to look on the down side of things too much. You can be too pessimistic. People can like you a lot but you don't always give them a chance to get to know you. You've been too America or Canada and you're going to go again. It's going to go well. Then she asked, "Have you been thinking of moving?"
"Yeah, I have."
"Go with it. Where you live now, there's bad energy. Some places are like that. You're going to live by the water. It might be here or it might be abroad. Either way, things will be much better once you've moved. Right. That's it. Did we say twenty pounds?"
"Yeah," and Luke awkwardly fished for the money and handed it over, thanking Gwendolyn.
She really had read his mind. How could she have known about his trips to America and Canada? That was impossible. Luke had entered the experience as cynical as they come; and left feeling more rejuvenated than he had in years.
XLVII
The ring of his telephone woke Luke.
"Hello?"
"Hi Luke. Are you alright?" asked his mother lovingly.
"Yeah, I'm okay. How are you?"
"Not bad. I've got some bad news."
"Oh no. What?"
"Hazel Fairfax has e-mailed to say that NHS funding can't be found to get you into the support group for people with Asperger's with emotional problems... so you're going to have to just have direct payments support instead."
"But they promised!"
"Pft! I know. You can't trust a single word these people say. Have you checked your post this morning?"
"No," replied Luke. "I'm going to go. I don't feel like talking." He ran down stairs to open his mailbox. A letter had arrived. He leaped back up the steps and closing the door settled on his sofa to read it. As he tore it open he saw the Greater Woecaster Police logo. What did they want know? But at least they were not writing to accuse him of anything more. Instead the letter was informing Luke the local police were initiating an Autism training exercise for the officers. It also contained the news that a local social group for people with Asperger's syndrome and Autism was being set up. It was to be co-ordinated by a woman from the social services by the name of Sandra Hamptons. A few days later, Sandra requested a meeting with Luke. Although he could see that recognition was finally coming for Autism in the area and services put in place, Luke's impression of Sandra was not complimentary. The woman had been given the job because she was a local council favourite. Clearly she had no expertise related to Autism. As Luke talked to her about the condition she had no understanding of how depressing it could be to live with nor of the widespread discrimination that occurred.
Her emphasis was very much on, as she put it, being positive. Sandra explained to Luke, "It's not all doom and gloom. At this group, we're going to have games people can play." Though it was better than nothing it had never been what Luke had envisaged. He had imagined a dedicated Autism team that would be accessible at least five days of the week, if not seven. They would take calls from people throughout the day just as a mental health team did - and deal with situations that arose with the police, schools, colleges, workplaces, hospitals and etc. Such a team could achieve a lot and turn around the dismally high unemployment rate and prevalence of social isolation among those on the Autistic spectrum.
But Luke was never to attend any of her groups in any case. They were hosted in a village on the other side of Duldrum to his that required a change of buses and long waits in crime-ridden locations. This was a further insult: the council had not even located the group in the town centre. Luke had attended social groups before, anyway, and he was always constrained by them. They invariably had petty confines and habits that were set in their regular, rote meetings; structure was good but the one most social groups had was anathema to Luke's free spirit and passion.
The arrival of the two letters brought about a feeling of sadness in Luke. He was reminded vividly of everything that had occurred with Jolly. He needed to understand better, to talk things over, and so late in the evening he called his father.
"Hello?"
"Hi dad."
"Oh, hi! How are you? Have you had a good day?"
"I got a letter today. The local police are going to start doing Autism training."
"Wow! Is that because of what happened with you?"
"Yeah." Luke stared at the floor. "It's brought it all back, this letter. I think to myself how could she do what she did to me? But then I think: did she ever like me? Did I just think she did? Was it all in my mind?"
"Mm. I think you got mixed up. It's not easy. A lot of people get in those situations."
"I know. I feel awful."