Darkened Phenomenon

A film projector began whirring somewhere in the back. The first scene was what I guessed the outside of the building looked like - all I saw yesterday was a wall and the big steel doors. From this perspective, it looked pretty cool and might have been a hotel at one time.

"Welcome to Schneller House. This is where you will spend your time as we develop you into what you and the world needs now - intelligent, strong, willful human beings." The narrator was the same voice of those damn school films about ameobas and the coot. I could feel my brain melting.

The next scene showed a bunch of people sitting at tables doing what looked like homework. "At Schneller House, you will learn all of the basics - language, science, art, history - as well as physical fitness." The gym looked well-equipped, or so the screen showed.

"You may be wondering why you are here. To explain this, please welcome the president of Saved Inc., Dr. Bill Hanson."

Dr. Bill appeared on the screen. He was at least 70 - and man, was he ugly. I mean, it looked like someone took a baseball bat to his head and didn't stop until the bat broke.

"Ahem. I would like to congratulate all of you on making the cut. You can rest assured that you are the best of the, ahem, best." Dr. Bill looked like he just ate the last cookie out of the jar and enjoyed it a little too much. "We at Saved Inc. want to wish you the best in the future. But let's get down to business, shall we?

"As you may have noticed, there are no members of the opposite sex bunking with you. Yes, there are members of the opposite sex on staff, but of the 'chosen ones', the sexes are segregated. This is to prevent any possibility of distraction while you should be concentrating on building your being. In the future, if things are running smoothly, there is the chance that a social outing may be planned to introduce the sexes. But for now, no interaction whatsoever."

You could feel this blanket of extreme sexual tension settle - no, crush - the audience. I had been wondering where all the chicks were, but it hadn't really crossed my mind that they were somewhere else, either in this building or in another.

"I'm sure most, if not all, of you are wondering what you are doing here." Dr. Bill got up from behind his desk and stood in front of a window. "You can thank your families for that."

A rumbling of confusion floated around the room. What the hell did he mean? My mom and dad sent me here and faked all their tears for the last few months? Yeah, this was a total cop-out.

"Yes, your families have all chosen you to be here. Throughout the world this message is being shown to every other 'chosen one' and I'm sure their reactions are much like yours. Disbelief. Shock. Anger. Bamboozlement. Well, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to your future." And with that, Dr. Bill turned to look out the window and I swear that his shoulders were shaking like he was laughing before the film ran out.

The lights came back up and everyone sat there like they were statues. I tried to absorb the news: my parents, who I had dedicated the better part of my adult life to, had decided to send me here? Were they still alive? Why did they do this? How can I get out?

"Okay, men. Let's leave in an orderly fashion and go back to our rooms for a nap. We will call you to the dining hall for dinner. Off with you all." Hugo had regained his control and we followed his lead.

I headed back to my room with a million questions racing around in my head. It was quiet, except for the slow, heavy footsteps of Ed behind me. I turned into my room and switched my light on. It was still a dark cell-like room, but I guess I could survive in it for now. I noticed an envelope on the bed with my name written on it in my dad's handwriting. I picked it up and turned and closed my door. I tore it open carefully as if it was a sensitive bomb that would go off if jarred.

"Dear Matt,

As you will know by now, we are the ones who sent you to this place.

And we are being torn apart because of this decision.

Your mother and I were, and still are, heartbroken because of this. We spent many nights talking about this. Whether it would help you or not. What would become of you if we decided either way. It was not something we did lightly; we looked at it from all angles.

Yes, I can already see that you are disagreeing with what I am saying." Disagreeing? No, Dad, it's more like I'm thinking you're an idiot. And way too inconsiderate to be alive. "But we were told you were not allowed to know anything, either way. When we were first contacted, we wanted to tell you so much, but were told that if we did, we would not only be ruined but you would be taken away and tortured, or some such thing."

I sat there, stunned. My parents made the most critical decision of my life - without me knowing. Was this payback for when I left 12 years before? Did they get paid to do this? Too many questions and no answers.

"So we did what was best. I'm sure that some people will wake up today, see that our son was one of the chosen and think we did it to move up in the world. And you may think those same thoughts. Nothing could be further from the truth. We have always been proud of you, Matt, and there is nothing we wanted more than to keep you in our lives.

Now that you know that we, in essence, sentenced you to this, let me tell you what I know about this 'plan' if you can call it that. I'll start at the beginning.

Four months ago, before the news hit the stands, we received a package from a mysterious company. Your mother, ever the busybody (sorry, dear) was desperate to know what it was. Inside was another envelope, which held all the forms we had to fill out and pamphlets we had to read. Your mother and I spent an entire night reading through the information, trying to decipher what it meant. We were told that the only person we could talk to about this was Stan Bransom, our local representative. So we called him and asked him to explain everything. No matter how many times we read the package, we couldn't understand the basics.

Stan became our lifeline to the 'plan'. We would call him whenever we had a question - whether it was about how long it would be (no one knows) to what we could say to you (absolutely nothing) to what you would be allowed to pack (a trunk measuring no more than 1.5 meters long, .75 meters wide and .75 meters deep, as well as $1,000 cash).

When the news hit the stands, Stan called us an told us to be aware of any change in your behaviour and to contact them when you finally told us about the 'choice'. We waited for days after we knew you got the message for you to tell us. I hope we were convincing when you told us."

Convincing? These people could have won awards for their act.

"Hey, Mom? Can I come over?"

"Oh, Matty, of course you can. Did you want to come for dinner?"

"Um, yeah. That sounds great."

"You do know, dear, that you don't have to ask to come over. We always enjoy your company and this is your house, too."

"Yeah, Mom. I know."

I had re-read the email a thousand times since I got it a week before. I had to make sure it wasn't a dream or a horrible nightmare. I printed it off, grabbed my jacket, and headed to my parents'.

I should have known that something was up. Mom and Dad were particularly easy to please that night - but their attitudes and moods since I came back had been all over the map that that night was nothing too out of the ordinary.

"So, Matt. What did you want to tell us?" Dad was sitting in his favourite chair with a cup of coffee and looked like he was about to burst.

"Well, Dad. Mom. I, uh, well, I'm one of the chosen ones." There it was out. I was waiting for the crying, the stunned looks, the incomprehension... but I got nothing like that.

"Oh. Matt. That's wonderful. We're so proud of you." Mom was tearing up, but not crying like a baby. Dad sat there looking as proud as I've ever seen him.

"Um, thanks. Yeah, so I'm one of the lucky ones, I guess. I don't know what's going on, really, but I was told that I could tell you guys. So what do you think?" I think I was more stunned than them. Well, now that I know that they put me into this deal, I guess I was.

"Son, this is wonderful news. When it all falls into place for you in a few weeks, you'll see how this was meant to be." Now Dad was confusing me. Sometimes, I think he was losing his firm grip on reality (and sanity). This is one of those times.

"Mom? Anything to add?"

"No, dear. I think your father said it best. I just want you to be happy. Shall we open some wine?"

And so we had a quasi-celebration. What I couldn't understand at the time was how my parents could be so happy at the thought that I would survive them - or so I thought. Maybe my dad was pleased at the fact that his genes would carry on and I would make something of myself. Or maybe it was something they could be proud of amongst their over-classed friends. I don't know... but now that I know part of the truth, I guess my parents were satisfied with the fact that they were sending me to a good place.

I don't know what 'they' told my parents would happen to me, but somehow I think what they were told was whitewashed and glorified. I trust my parent's judgement most of the time, but in a case this crucial, I'm not so sure.

Back to the letter.

"Your mother and I knew we were right in letting you tell Alana and Marty. They are too young to understand what is going on and you know them far better than your mother and I ever could. We want to thank you for all the help you gave us for so many years.

Down to business.

When you returned to us after three years, your mother and I had to adjust our lives again. We suffered when you left, but thankfully we had Alana to soften the blow. Yes, there are people out there who will say that Alana was our replacement for you, but no one could ever replace you, son. Alana made life easier and brought joy to our lives - something we never thought would happen again.

Shortly after you moved back home, we received a visit from a man who said he was doing a case study on families who were torn apart and brought back together again. His credentials checked out and we did a few interviews with him. And then we heard nothing from him for years. Three years ago, we received a letter in the mail.

This man was working on a project that would take people and re-socialize them. Your mother and I had just reconcilled and we decided that this would be most beneficial to you. So we signed you up.

From that point on, all the information we received was this:

1. At some point in the future, you would be separeted from society and taken to a facility to begin the process of re-socialization.

2. You would be completely cut off from society - including all contact with your family, the media, and the general 'outside world'.

3. Further instruction would follow.

So we waited. And then we got the final notice and you know the rest.

Matt, your mother and I want no harm to come of you. We are doing this for your benefit. Please forgive us.

Love, Dad"

I looked up from the letter and stared at the wall for a while - a few minutes, an hour, I don't know. I thought about what Dad said and what Dr. Bill and Hugo said at the meeting. Needless to say, I'm a little confused.