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Circus of Value
Tell her that struggling will only make it hurt more. The liars seem to strain harder when they hear that. The murderers are less predictable. Either way, you weren’t kidding. Of 16 past subjects, seven have lived; none escaped. You never kid. If she’s a thief, let her see something of her old life. Show her what it is to be stolen from. Make it clear that you’re a philanthropist, not a madman. Well, at least 90% of you is. The other 10% may well be mad. Before you leave, whisper to her that if she doesn’t lie, she doesn’t die. Double check that everything is secure, and don’t forget to turn out the light on your way out.
Use the laptop to update the dossiers on those who were redeemed, and peruse the shelves with the jars of those who didn’t. You did say you’d stay in touch, didn’t you? Lock up the cellar before you get too distracted. Slide the bookshelf back into place and sweep the floor so it’s not so obvious that it hides a doorway. You’re not Batman, but admit that it is a nice touch. Grab the keys to the Montego and the thermos of coffee that’s on the counter, and head out the back door. You’ve got a long drive ahead. Day one has only just begun.
Get halfway back to New Haven before you pull over at the safe house outside Collinsville to change out of the scrubs you were wearing back at the cottage. You always feel like a dumbass wearing the neoprene gloves, face mask, shower cap, and bootie covers during the drive here, but a voice in your head reminds you that evidence is evidence, better a dumbass than jailbait. Dump the scrubs in the biohazard bin at the Asylum so they’ll be burned, and pick up the keys to the McLaren.
You’re a movie star after all; it wouldn’t do for the public to see you driving around in anything less than your best. Drive just above the speed limit the rest of the way into Manhattan. There’s no one else on these roads right up until New Rochelle this early in the morning, so take it easy and enjoy the scenery. You’re appearing on The Today Show in a little under 4 and a half hours, so you’d like to get at least two hours sleep before you have to be there at six for an hour of makeup. Yawning on camera is bad for your image, so make sure you wait until the commercial breaks.
That bitch Vieira won’t have any new questions than the ones she asked the last time you were here. She’ll still try to make casual host small talk during the breaks, not knowing that she’s one you’d rather collect than redeem. Keep your hatred hidden. On the outside you’ll have to play nice. Don’t sweat it.
Sleep until noon, and when you wake up, give the singer a call. Talk dirty on the phone and invite her up to the penthouse. She’s number three on the Hot 100 this week, so tease her about it for a bit. When you hang up get straight into the shower, she only lives a few blocks away, and she knows to let herself in. She’ll join you in the shower-bath for a not-so-quickie.
With the sounds that emanate from those too-perfect vocal chords, you’ll wonder what the neighbors would think if it weren’t for the fact you own the entire floor. It’s important that you get yours out of the way; if you’re going to be taking care of these girls, your urges can’t corrupt the service you’re trying to do for them. If you succumbed to that sort of weakness, you really would be a madman. Put those thoughts out of your mind.
Take the singer to the best lunch in town, and tell her you had fun. That you always have fun. You’ve easily got ten years on her, and her career will likely be over by next week, but you can’t deny that she’s cute. Drive her back to her building and give her that patented and oft used Casanova kiss of yours, telling her you’ll call later in the week. You might, but you’ll definitely take a look at how she’s doing on the billboard charts first.
Hop back into the McLaren and head back to the penthouse. From the new laptop, jack into someone else’s wireless, just to be safe. Check in on the video feed from Current Subject 17: Melissa; she’s safe and sound, relativistically speaking. Gagged and bound rather, but at least she seems to be sleeping. You take that as a good sign for day two. You remember #16 and how unproductive your sessions were because she was bleary eyed from wild struggling and lack of sleep. Suffice it to say that she now has a jar, not a dossier. Don’t forget to check the feed from Possible Subject 109: Kristen’s bedroom. You red flagged her last week when you caught her cheating on her fiancée. Now, depending on how she plays her cards, she seems a likely candidate for Current Subject 18.
But no more talk about the future until the present is properly dealt with. So pack the laptop up and brush your teeth. Shave. Melissa won’t be able to see you, but that’s no excuse for being unkempt. Sweep the apartment with the electronic scanner for wiretaps and bugs, even though you won’t find anything. Better cautious than on trial, the voice of reason will remind you.
It’s a very simple question to ask someone to enumerate their sins. For that question however, there are no simple answers. In your line of work, those who repent their sins may only be doing so out of a fear of death. But just because someone fears death does not mean their answers are duplicitous. Because of this dynamic, it has been your honor and pleasure to work out these subtle differences in human response patterns. Your background in psychology comes in handy. Not many movie stars sport degrees of such caliber––it’s just one of the many things that make you unique.
But don’t get caught up in yourself. It’s unbecoming. Take the keys to the McLaren and turn on the answering machine. It’s a little past seven, so you have plenty of time and only a little ground to cover. Take a different route to the safe house than you did this morning, just for shits and giggles. But in all seriousness, it’s another failsafe. Your failsafe should have a failsafe should have a failsafe. In this business, there is no such thing as “too careful.”
Stop by the safe house around nine and pick up a fresh pack of scrubs. Don the sterile shirt, pants, cap, shoe covers, and gloves, and pack the materials you’ll need for day two into your black duffel. You have time to kill, so take a power nap. Make a plate for #17: Melissa; her favorite dish. This one’s easy, steamed salmon with cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes. You’ve never had cranberry sauce with salmon, and it doesn’t particularly sound appetizing to you, but the first real session needs to run smoothly.
It’s almost 10 now, so you’d better be going. Hang up the keys to the McLaren and take the Montego; it’s has a comfortable familiar feel that is only enhanced after driving a sports car all day. Don’t feel like too much of a dumbass wearing those scrubs. Drive up to the cottage. It’s almost midnight.
#17 was an interesting find for you. A trust fund baby turned cocaine addict with a penchant for hurting those around her. You flagged her after she got into an argument with her father on his deathbed. Tsk. Tsk. But she had shown herself to have such potential; you had to bring her here. There was something about her; watching her from your laptop that made you want to fix her. Poor Melissa suffers from the curse of materialism.
You’ve determined that three of the seven deadly sins have come to reside in her breast. Lust, greed, and pride. She once had been innocent and kind. You saw that. Luckily for her sake, she’s not so far gone as to be unsalvageable. And by your hand she will see the error of her path. She will either find value in her life and be redeemed or remain corrupt and need to be eliminated.
Melissa’s been busy since she woke up. Watching from the laptop, you can see the red around her wrists where she’s struggled against the steel. She hasn’t made any progress, but have the taser ready when you open the cellar. 11:59, 12:00. Day two has just begun.
You explain the rules to her. Obey to the letter, and the prize will be your life. Trying to escape, fight, or disobey will result in severe, if not deadly punishment. Moreover, you will not repeat yourself. Inevitably, her eyes will look up at you, wide with fear. That look no longer haunts you; you’ve seen it too many times. Head back upstairs to grab the plate you’d made for her. She needs to trust that you’re not going to hurt her unnecessarily, which can be difficult to accomplish so long as she sees you as her masked abductor. That’s okay.
Tell her that she needs to listen carefully to everything you say. Tell her that you’re going to free her wrists and let her eat now and that she’d better not try anything foolish. Remember number 4 and how she broke your nose as soon as the cuffs came off. You couldn’t redeem her because you let your temper get the best of you. She broke your nose so you broke the rest of her. Number eight was better; she brought about her own elimination. But you like Melissa, and you don’t want to preserve her left hand in a jar.
So explain the rules to her again as clearly as possible with the surgical mask muffling your voice. Watch her. Let her take her time, but as soon as she swallows the last morsel, use the taser. There’s no struggling that way. You know too well that she won’t like what comes next. You wouldn’t expect her to.
She won’t be particularly agreeable when she comes to. Don’t sweat it, she’s not in a position to do much. Ask her if she’s a sinner. That question generally makes them uncomfortable. So you expect the kind of response she’ll give. You’ve seen the tears well up in their eyes before. Maybe sobs, but Melissa doesn’t even go so far as tears. Sympathy doesn’t come easy for you, and this time is no different. Ask her if she knows why she’s here. She’ll say that she doesn’t know what you’re talking about, that she’s never hurt anybody, that she doesn’t know what she’s done. She’ll say that she doesn’t deserve this, that she’ll never tell if you’d just let her go.
Ask her what it is she could possibly say to the authorities. This one will hit home. It’s where they realize that they have to play your game because they don’t have anything to bargain with. To add insult to injury, cut off her clothes. It’s not necessarily a coincidence that Melissa is beautiful. It’s not about that, but it’s not exactly like you mind. You don’t let their bodies corrupt the hands of justice. You can’t let their bodies don’t work on you that way. This is your world and the task is clear; you must not lose focus. Open the black duffel you packed at the safe house. Whip her until her tears flow freely.
Ask her if she’s ready to repent. She doesn’t understand yet. Let her beg for you to stop. She’s already forgotten rule #1, she’s supposed to do exactly as you ask. You did ask her to enumerate her sins, didn’t you? No matter, tell her again in case you forgot to like you did last time. Tsk. Tsk. But all the history she’ll tell you is trivial; she doesn’t know that this confession isn’t for you. You already know her sins. You just want her to recognize them herself. She doesn’t know that yet. Remind her how pain brings out the contrition in all of us.
Six hours in she’s a sobbing mess. You’ve gotten a number of confessions out of her, but not the one you’re waiting for. Perhaps you’re beating a dead horse. Well, she’s still quite alive, but at this point more violence won’t prove more effective. Oh well. There’s always day three. This is the point most of them drag it on to. Don’t sweat it. You want her to succeed, but you don’t give special treatment. It’s too bad that some of them can’t appreciate the opportunities they’ve been given. Think hard about your sins, you whisper.
When you turn out the lights, listen attentively to her sobs. Don’t sweat it. Leave quietly, and slam the cellar door. Turn the key hard so she can hear the lock. In the dark the fear will grow on her. She won’t sleep tonight.
Tonight, you won’t get much sleep either. For some of them you have, but you care about Melissa too much. There that intangible thing that makes you like a person, and she exudes it like no other. It’s too bad you can’t give her special treatment. Tsk. Tsk. Take out the two syringes from the freezer. The red one, you know, is a concoction similar to the final dose used by the United States Justice Department in its executions. The second, the green one, a coma inducing sedative. You know which one you want to use, but she’ll have to answer one question first. Unlock the door and turn on the light.
Ask her what her greatest sin has been. It’s a simple question, but one you want her to answer correctly, moreover, truthfully. She’ll whimper. You’ve already informed her that she can only answer this question once. You’ve told her that there’s only one right answer. She shivers; and you know it’s not because it’s cold. In your hand you hold the red syringe at the ready. You could not be considered merciful, but you aren’t cruel either––if she answers wrong, you will make it quick for her. But you see the look in her eyes suddenly change. She’s either given up, or she finally understands. You hold your breath.
#17 tells you about her father. About why you red flagged her, about exactly what you wanted to hear. She tells you how they fought over her habit and how she walked out when he sat down gasping. She had left, and he had his stroke. She’d never told anyone, you’d read it in her diary. But she knows you knew, and she relaxes a little; as best as the chains will allow, as best as her situation will permit. She won’t know that you’re smiling behind the mask, and its better that way. Tell her that she’s number eight, even though she won’t know what that means.
You don’t need to tell her you’ll be checking in on her. She knows. Use the green syringe. She’ll try to twist away; exhibiting a fear of syringes ironic of a now ex-user.
Melissa looks shocked that you’ve kept your promise. There hasn’t been one yet that didn’t. She rolls out of bed, and checks herself over. It would have been a dream, if she didn’t wear criss-crossing welts as a harsh reminder. Watch as she slumps to the floor and weeps into her hands. Mark the time down in her dossier. You have a feeling about her; she won’t be at risk of coming back. Call up the singer, you’ll be celebrating tonight. You’ll be on Conan O’Brien tomorrow, and you need to distress to put up with his cretinism. Before you close the laptop, bring all 114 subjects up on screen. Black flag 109: Kristen. She just got back from having an abortion.
© 2008 Eugene Aarons-Cooke
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