Everyone turned the blockers in. We were helping them. We felt so good without pain that we had to help them right. We had to turn them in. It wasn’t that we were sending them We weren’t turning them in to die, we were turning them in to have a better life. To experience the freedom of pain free living.
I turned in my brother.
It wouldn’t have mattered. He and I hadn’t been close. We were half brothers from our father’s first marriage (me) and second marriage (him) and had drifted apart. He came to me scared one night “I feel pain” he said. He was terrified. I talked him off the ledge and we went together. We turned him in to the authorities.
“I feel pain.” My brother said. They took him away. Then the desk person stepped around the desk and took a picture with me. Posted it there on the wall with the rest of the hero’s. “We will help him.” The man said as he pressed the thumbtack through the picture and attached it to the wall., “We will help him.”
It wasn’t that we were close. We weren’t. But I never saw him again. Not in passing, not on the street, not at the holidays. Never. My brother disappeared. I started asking people. In a light and friendly manner at parties. “Hey have you helped someone?” “Have you enabled a blocker to live a pain free life?” Using the words, using the language of the commercials I asked. I asked a lot of people 100’s in fact.
Not one of them had ever seen the person they helped again. Plus I found out some blockers were pain free but were questioning the pills. Questioning what else the pills did.
You can fake being pain free.
So I did.
Things started to make sense. First there were no back doors, no halls, no rooms behind the stations. The places we were taking people who felt pain. People I knew from before the pills people that had hair triggers. You know the type when you bump into them they stop and they yell at you. They curse and call you a moron for knocking into them. So knowing that I knocked into them. I spilled beer on them. I “tripped” slamming into them. They smiled each of them, they picked me up off the ground and they apologized for bumping into me.
It bothered me.
What was in those pills.
A world suddenly friendly scared me beyond anything. People that were always angry suddenly pick you up off the ground and excuse themselves for knocking into you. People who felt pain suddenly going missing. Never to be seen again. I watched that building where I had turned my brother in. No one except the officers ever came out. No one. Just the officers. Where did they go? What was in those pills.
Why was violence gone?
It had been two years since the last reported murder. Police smiled now most of the time. They stopped and offered rides to people who were carrying groceries home. They were happy. We were all happy.
I knew it was the pills but what were they?