The Audric Experiment Page 4

  “John Edgar Toll works out of Southwick Harbor,” Edmond said. “The only campaign

  outpost he has is in Audric Headquarters. No chance of there being any campaign outpost at Christmas Bells Lane.”

  Pierre sighed. Then he nodded. “Christmas Bells Lane. I thought that was weird.” His eyes darted around. “They had like signs and all these people working there.”

  “Pierre, your father and I have been talking. We want you to meet with a counselor every few days to talk about what you’re going through. There’s things we can’t help with.”

  “Counselor can’t help either.”

  “You need to talk it through,” Edmond said. “There’s only so much we as your parents

  can do.”

  Pierre nodded. “All right.”

  “Talk to Mr. Bradley, Pierre,” Edmond said. “And we’ll set up a meeting with a counselor. Soon, we want to talk to you about what happened. But take some time and get it all straight.”

  Mr. Bradley was holding the class afterschool, and Pierre knew he should be there. But he couldn’t escape the words his Mother spoke. His own Mother didn’t believe him. What didn’t she say? Each time he thought about it, that now familiar anger returned.

  In his first three classes, something unusual had happened. Pierre thought maybe it was nothing, but it nagged at him nonetheless. On the comp boards, which were large computer screens capable of being written on with an indicator or loading up information, there were letters and numbers displayed. Lots of them. Lists of numbers each with a letter beside it. Pierre scanned them trying to commit the list to memory. Then, on second thought, he decided to take a photo of the numbers and letters with his phone.

  35. C

  36. A

  37. B

  38. C

  39. D

  40. A

  And it went on like that on each board. Pierre didn’t know what to make of it. He told himself he’d ask Mr. Bradley about it at the meeting.

  At lunch, Pierre took a Caesar Salad from the sustenance bot, and sat down alone, deep in thought. He opened up The Brighton Student, which was a weekly student newspaper. Journalism was popular at Brighton High. Journalists were thought to live fairly low shock lifetimes and that made the career path appealing.

  In the center of the newspaper was this week’s Halltalk – a segment in which questions were posed and answered by eight or nine students. Generally, the questions were about recent news, or sports team wins, and losses. This week the journalism staff went with something philosophical relating to Audric.

  The question mentioned a man named Bertrand Russell who Pierre had never heard of.

  Many societies believe that the pursuit of happiness is a fundamental human right. Did Bertrand Russell have it right when he said, “To be without some of the things you want is an indispensable part of happiness.” What gives us more pleasure and satisfaction, the pursuit of our desires or the attainment of them?

  Pierre believed in freedom of expression. But the anti-Audric nature of this Halltalk pushed the wrong buttons in him. He felt suddenly dizzy. As he perused the other answers, the dizziness only began to increase. He stood up, put his hand against the wall to steady himself, and nausea began to invade his stomach. Something was happening to him and it wasn’t just some bad sushi. The letters on the page went fuzzy. As he dropped, knees on the floor, the dizziness only increased. The medic was having lunch and saw Pierre on the floor. He put Pierre’s arm over his shoulder and they walked to his office.

  As Pierre stopped thinking about the newspaper, the nausea and dizziness decreased. The medic guessed it was somehow related to the thirteen floor fall. He said, it might be a case of trauma dyslexia, and that it was also probably psychological – a result of brain trauma. Pierre was nonplussed and wanted to get a second opinion. But first, he wanted to go talk to the journalism department and see if Chester was there.

  The journalism department was a dark blue room on the third floor with computer screens that were suspended in midair. The computers were so light that a motorized fan kept them afloat. When Pierre got there shortly after lunch, Chester was talking with Gordy about the internet. About ten other people were in the room and listening. They were planning on running an editorial about trying to get the internet instituted in Brighton.

  “Pure Pierre,” someone announced as Pierre walked in.

  “Not anymore,” Pierre mumbled.

  “Hey Pierre,” Chester said. “What can we do you for?”

  “You want to tell me what this is all about?” Pierre held up the newspaper.

  “Things are changing, Pierre. Audric isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Chester said. “A lot

  of us are wondering if there’s a better way.”

  “Things are changing? You’re a student newspaper in Brighton. Since when did you decide things change?”

  “A lot of people have been to the thirteenth floor of the Athenaeum. We’re all talking

  about it. There’s a lot of reason to not be Audric Compliant.”

  “Then you become Gamblers,” Pierre said.

  “That’s just it. Maybe what Audric is doing is hurting all of us.”

  “We are independent beings. Genesis Smith said so.”

  “Show him the quote,” Chester said.

  Gordy called up a page on the computer.

  “We’re running this quote next week,” Gordy said.

  Pierre walked over to the computer. The quote was from someone called Albert Einstein

  whom Pierre had not heard of.

  “We found this on the thirteenth floor,” Gordy said. “It’s interesting. There’s a lot more we found too. We’re going to run a new quote in each issue. Get people talking. Take a look.”

  Pierre read:

  “A human being is a part of the whole called by us Universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures.”

  “He was a genius,” Chester said. “You just want the comfort of Audric.”

  Pierre stared at him ice-eyed. “Just because your life is a joke, Chester, doesn’t mean you have to go after Audric.”

  Chester pulled back then, looked around, and made a face like Pierre was uppity.

  “What did you mean?” Gordy asked. “When you said, ‘not anymore’?”

  “I’m not Pure Pierre anymore. I got shocked,” Pierre said.

  “How come it’s not on the board?” Gordy asked.

  “That’s what I intend to find out,” Pierre said. He threw the paper at Chester and walked out.

  Maybe all everyone needed was a good harmonizer. It was this belief that he walked into the gymnasium afterschool with and saw over seventy people sitting on the bleachers. They had announced the class when Pierre was at the medic, and most of them knew Pierre would be in attendance.

  Mr. Bradley was speaking. “It’s important to remember, no one was hurt except the Gambler.”

  “So can someone who is Audric Compliant not go to coffee shops anymore?” Someone

  asked. “Pierre could have been killed.”

  “I provoked it,” Pierre said. “I tried to argue with him.”

  Mr. Bradley looked at Pierre with approval. “Thank you, Pierre. You hear that? You

  mind your own business, and you’ll be fine. It’s important to remember Pierre is a special circumstance. A lot of people have feelings about him as of late.”

  “I heard Pierre is dead as lunchmeat,” someone announced.

  Mr. Bradley ignored the comment. “Anyone else?”

  “Did Pierre try to kill himself?” A kid asked.

  “We are here to talk about what happened at Gamblers and Guns,” Mr. Bradley said
.

  Pierre said, “I didn’t try to kill myself.”

  “So what happened?” The kid asked.

  “He says he can’t remember,” someone else announced. “That’s convenient.”

  “Look, alright,” Mr. Bradley said. “No one knows what happened. Let’s try to keep an open mind.”

  “I heard Pierre got shocked,” someone said.

  Everyone began speaking, murmuring to one another. “Hey!” Mr. Bradley said. “We’re here to talk about what happened at Gamblers and Guns.”

  “He’s a liar,” someone said.

  Pierre sighed and then turned to the door. “I think they don’t need to hear anything I have to say.”

  “No, Pierre. You and I need to talk,” Mr. Bradley said. “Class dismissed. If you have more questions or things to say I recommend you visit the journalism department and talk with them. Pierre. Come with me.”

  The class began filing towards the exit and Pierre followed Mr. Bradley into his office in the corner of the gymnasium. He sat down behind a black marble desk and Pierre sat across from him.

  “There’s a rumor circulating,” Mr. Bradley said. “A lot of people think you tried to end your life. And there’s a lot of anger out there. Audric has authorized the kill. If you see anyone with a gun, even someone who seems to be a Gambler, my advice to you is get somewhere safe. Somewhere far away.”

  Pierre thought about how he had eavesdropped on David Thindrel while lying in the hospital bed. David had said, “They’re gonna kill him.” Audric was to be feared after all.

  “Some parties it seems are competing for your allegiance. My guess is Audric thinks

  you’re not much good to anyone anymore. I heard you almost fainted today. Why don’t you spend a couple weeks at Brighton’s Audric Sanitarium meeting with a counselor. In Patient. It’ll give you some time to get your head straight. There’s tight security there and they won’t kill you with all those people around.”

  Pierre nodded. It was a good idea. There was one problem though. “I gotta take the General and Specialized Knowledge Test.”

  “The GSKT is not for two weeks. You can come back for the test.”

  “Why bother helping me? I mean why aren’t you looking out for yourself?”

  “I’ve always felt for you. I always struggled with swimming. It took years for me to master my fears. I guess I see a little of myself in you.”

  Pierre took a deep breath. “I didn’t try to kill myself.”

  “I believe you. But you’re gonna have to do better than that. You need to make a case. You need to remember.”

  Pierre didn’t answer.

  “You find out what happened, and then you’ll need to speak to Audric. That’s the only way you’ll get your freedom.” Mr. Bradley took a breath. “Maybe that’s something we’re all lacking.”

  Brighton’s Audric Sanitarium was designed to be difficult to escape from. The intake counselor explained to Pierre that the complex was comprised of twelve circular rooms that rotated slowly. If necessary the rotation could stop at any moment which would separate the entrances of each room and imprison everyone in the complex. Underground were still another set of rooms, impossible to reach outside from. The exterior of the complex looked like it was made of honeycomb.

  After Pierre had his bracelet removed, the bracelet was thought to contribute to feelings of confinement, he spent the first few days underground getting brain scans. In order to produce effective data from the scans fantasies had to be instituted within a person’s brain and then the results analyzed. Some speculated that these fantasies were brought about by a person’s acceptor, but Audric never explained where they came from, and the Audric Compliant were left to guess how so much information could be gained from the scans.

  After three days underground, it was a relief to Pierre to be led to the center room, above ground. The center room was a multi-purpose room where a person had to go first before venturing to see a therapist in one of the rotating rooms. The center room was made of glass, and he could see the red leaves on the ground, and the maple trees in the distance which seemed to create paths that led some place unknown. His appointment was at noon, and he’d been told his therapist had been schooled on his reason for being at the Sanitarium.

  His therapist wore black, her silver Audric Compliant bracelet reflecting the light like chrome on a sunny day. She wore glasses and her brown hair was done up in a bun. Her name was Kalpana.

  “My name is Kalpana.” She extended her hand and Pierre shook it. “Take a seat.” Pierre sat on one of the leather sofas. He looked around. There was a long window that

  provided a view of the maple trees. The room was rotating very slowly. “It takes forever to get anywhere in this place,” Pierre said.

  “That’s part of the therapy. Teaches patience. Have you ever been to a therapist before?”

  Pierre shook his head. “No. But I read Genesis Smith’s philosophical tract on the ‘new

  therapy.’”

  “Then you know this is yours.”

  She handed him a book – the results of his brain scan. Pierre thumbed through it quickly.

  He’d read that Audric was capable of generating enough data to fill an entire book, and he had read examples of what would be included in the book. But he had never had a book of his own.

  “I’m a little old fashioned,” Kalpana said. “Smith was right that with brain scans and

  acceptors we can bypass the more circuitous methods of getting to the heart of the matter. But we need to deal with honesty and humor to promote character change. You can’t run a Sun Pod without the sun. Our humanity is what fuels us. And that’s the problem I’ve always had with Audric. Just pushes buttons.”

  “I think Smith understood that.”

  Kalpana took a notebook off her desk. “I understand from your intake counselor that you were found on the ground unconscious after a thirteen floor fall and you don’t remember why. So let’s talk about that. What building was it?”

  “It was the Athenaeum in a shopping mall. The Library as some people call it.”

  “What is the last thing you remember?”

  “I must have gone there to do research for an essay on the groups that want to be exempt

  from the Earnings Regulator. That was the only essay I had to write. I walked through the entrance … and then,” he paused, collecting himself, “and then I heard a voice say, ‘do what you’re told, you’re good at that.’ The next thing I remember is waking up at the infirmary.”

  “The thirteenth floor is a little odd. Don’t you think?”

  Pierre nodded. “Everyone thinks so.”

  “And now you’ve been told that you might have trauma dyslexia because you got dizzy

  and nauseous when reading The Brighton Student.”

  “That’s what the medic said.”

  “You don’t have trauma dyslexia.” She took a newspaper from the desk and handed it to him. It was The London Times. “Read the first paragraph of two articles to me out loud please.”

  “Why?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Pierre flipped through the newspaper. “’On September 17th, the students in the eleventh

  grade across Brighton will be taking the General and Specialized Knowledge Test and many have been steadfastly preparing. Last year, Brighton scored below the average expected by the Audric Earnings Authority. Since then, early education centers … ‘”

  “How do you feel?”

  Pierre shrugged. “I feel fine.”

  “One more please.”

  “The twenty square foot dark blue light that shines into the air at Southwick Harbor is getting an upgrade. John Edgar Toll says that upon this election he will be, ‘making some modifications. We’re gonna make a triangulation of light to celebrate this year’s victorious election, and the proven success we are having with Audric.”


  “How do you feel?”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, read this.” She handed him The Brighton Student.

  Pierre scanned articles and came upon one entitled, “Pierre Morena Takes a Leave of Absence.”

  “Not that one,” Kalpana said.

  Pierre looked up at her, then back down at the newspaper. Pierre silently began to read the article. They were reporting on his incident at Gamblers and Guns and his mysterious disappearance from Brighton High. Thirty students held a rally one day after school with a big banner that said, “Protect Pierre.” They held interviews with people who had information about what was going to happen to him.

  “Pierre?” Kalpana said.

  Pierre looked up, now returning to the present. “Yeah?”

  “Read the Halltalk. The one with the Albert Einstein quote.”

  Pierre turned the page. He began perusing the answers and noticed the stirring in his chest, then the nausea in his belly, and then the dizziness hit. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he said.

  “Stop reading,” Kalpana said. She took the newspaper from him. “There’s something

  else going on other than trauma dyslexia. I agree that you didn’t try to kill yourself. I read the article in The Brighton Student. Audric isn’t murderers. So you must really be an interesting case. Incidentally, I was speaking about you yesterday with one of my patients who says she knows you.”

  Pierre noticed the nausea had passed. “What’s her name?”

  “Dot Hawkings.”

  “I don’t really know her,” Pierre felt his heartbeat quicken as he thought about her role in some of his dreams. “She helped me out in a snag at Gamblers and Guns. Probably read about it.”

  “See the painting behind me?”

  Behind Kalpana was a depiction of a woman in a grocery store. On the wall was a plethora of bottles of wine. On each bottle was a photograph of a man. The men were of varying attractiveness. Written on the painting were the words: “Faces like lost jewels.” Beneath the image was a quote that read, “Shrugs and kisses. David.”

  “It’s how I feel about Audric. A part of happiness is not having what you want. We need to strive for happiness. If you have too many boosts you no longer register the emotional difference between a beautiful person vs. an ugly person. That’s important. Don’t you think?”