Hey You!
May 21st, 2014; a date forever burned into my psyche like the brands that were put on our arms that very day. There was no warning, everything just collapsed; the government, the media, all forms of culture that made us human; gone. On that day, the wall was formed; a wall that made The Berlin Wall that once divided our city look like a threshold into a doorway, a wall that separated us from the outside world. Since the wall was formed our previously booming metropolitan society was now a communist driven machine that bore resemblance to those in the cheesy sci-fi novels that I once read before everything went south. Our battered society soon grew rigid and mechanized under the strict enforcement of martial law… or whatever it is THEY called it to make it sound more appealing. “THEY”, being the Swiss. Yes, Switzerland
But that was all long ago, ten years ago to be exact. At this point, life before the collapse was a hazy memory at most, and the monotonous task of scrubbing the wall from 9am to 5pm was now as regular an activity as going to school in the morning was back when things were normal. But not everyone was as cooperative as the Swiss had intended. It seemed futile at the time, but our numbers soon grew and we became as rigid and disciplined under our own rule as the spineless sheep that had blindly followed our captors had become.
Our only time to congregate was before we were picked up to work our eight hour shifts. By what must have been the 15th or 16th time we met, the scrappy grey-haired leader of our ‘group’ who went by Backstein made it clear that it was in his best interest to organize an attack of sorts. “But what kind of attack would be effective against such a massive and omnipotent enemy like the Swiss?” I thought to myself as Backstein quietly rambled off possible plans of attack to the rest of the group. Then he brought up an option that sent chills down my spine. “What if we performed some sort of mass suicide? I mean, if we’re all gone, the Swiss would have no one to control.” Backstein said with a hint of desperation in his voice. We didn’t even know what was out on the other side of that wall; everyone in our contained area had the same brand on their arm. Were these brands used to tell us apart from other groups of people outside of our area? Were we cattle or prisoners? The bottom line was, we didn’t know. Nobody had ever seen past the wall even though we rubbed noses with it every day. And until we found out what was out there, I highly doubted the consideration of such a radical course of action. But what happened next made my heart sink. As Backstein finished explaining his plans of a mass suicide, the rest of the group became restless and excited by the notion. And before I could interject, I felt the sharp sting of a police baton against the back of my thigh; it was the guards. We had gotten so caught up in our discussion that we forgot that the guards were coming in soon to load us into the trucks for our day of work. Luckily the guards didn’t intrude mid-sentence, so they didn’t catch wind of the rebellious nature of our get-together. On the ride over to the wall I heard Backstein whispering to the other groups of people what had been decided earlier, and just like before, this notion was followed by a low hum of approval from the crowd. My greatest fears were now materializing in front of me, these men and women were so desperate for an uprising that they were becoming excited by the thought that they would be able to take a shot at the Swiss as well as put an end to their miserable stay within the confines of the wall even if it meant not being alive for the results. Perhaps my level of desperation hadn’t quite caught up with theirs, or perhaps I was just caught up in my own pessimism, but I KNEW that what these people were considering was insane. Before long we arrived at the wall where we were handed our buckets and rags as we walked in a mechanical single-file line towards the scaffolding that led to the first, second, and third tiers of the wall. I ended up on the third tier which was the highest accessible point on the wall, but still about 20 feet below the top. Once I found a spot on the wall I stood there and scrubbed at nothing. The wall was spotless to begin with, which made our repetitive task all the more meaningless. Hours passed, as I watched the man next to me write in his own blood “Together we stand, Divided we fall” and then furiously scrub it away with his already torn rag. He caught me watching him and quickly started telling me about Backstein’s plan. “Did you hear?” he said “Backstein is having us do it TODAY”. “Well what about the others? Not everyone is going through with this. What’s the point?” I replied quietly, not trying to gain the attention of those around me. “You don’t understand, by the time we’re done there won’t be many people left, our alliance is huge! Once this is done the Swiss won’t know what to do with themselves.” He said with a falsely reassuring chuckle. “Yep, when that air horn goes off at the end our shift, the plan is to grab the nearest guard and take him down with you, pretty solid eh?” The man on the other side of me said who had apparently been listening in this whole time. I looked over at the clock-tower and saw that the shift would be over in about five minutes. “Please, don’t let this happen, this is ridiculous” I said in a frantic yet still hushed tone. “It has to happen. We’ve been here for ten years and we’ve done nothing. It’s about time we did.” He said, returning to his scrubbing. I stood nervously, knees trembling at the thought of what was about to take place. I fixed my eyes upon the clock tower to see that less than 30 seconds remained in the shift. I watched as the people around me soon grew antsy and glanced at each other and looked at the guards closest to them. During this slight commotion I scanned the rows for Backstein, but he was nowhere to be found. I faced the wall as I heard the air horn signal the end of the shift. I heard the rumbling of people sprinting across the scaffolding and the screams of the guards as they were hurled from the ledge. The commotion was short lived, I didn’t dare look down, but instead I looked across the rows which were now sparsely filled with people with perplexed expressions of sheer terror on their faces. This scene was interrupted by a familiar voice sounding over the PA system. It was Backstein. His voice was different, almost maniacal. “With a little bit of undercover work it’s pretty easy to see who your real friends are.” He said with a laugh. “You know what they say: ‘one bad apple spoils the bunch’, well, we had quite a few bad apples spoiling this most glorious society. And I’m glad to announce that they’ve been eradicated. Enjoy your evening.” He said, shutting the PA off accordingly.
