Where Lizards Roam    

    The long black robe was strange; I'd never worn such an apparition, but it was necessary. We would only have a brief moment to pull this thing off before the real minister arrived, so we had the camera and everything already waiting. Students were beginning to file in, taking their seats in the chapel. I looked at them and considered the role I was about to play. Undoubtedly I would be perceived as a demon by some, yet what I was about to share with them might be their only chance for deliverance. I looked down at my costume, shuddering at the thought of what it truly represented, brushed a few particles of gray lint from my sleeve. We would use their methods of indoctrination, brainwashing if you will, injecting our message into their own hypnotic rituals. I just wondered if the use of these techniques, even with the best of intentions, was ethical...
   While massaging my face in rumination, I realized too late that I had disturbed a healing scar (having cut myself shaving earlier). I touched the small trickle of red running down my cheek and felt its wetness. If we could not find freedom by seeking the truth in ourselves, then would this river of life's blood be the only thing to run free from our heads? Would it come to this? We were making a politically dangerous move here, but it was felt by the majority of those involved, that it had to be done.
   So this little bit of electronic media dissemination or "healthy skepticism" as we liked to call it, would be aired illegally, over the "Word of Truth" state television network. The entire movement was counting on this first attempt, for we knew that once transmission lines had been breached and satellite up-links commandeered, that the authorities would assuredly invoke more stringent security measures, thus making our ensuing attempts considerably more difficult. It was hoped that our first pirate broadcast would shoot out in all directions throughout the network, filling up every television screen, flooding the minds of all those who watched, but with new ideas, hopefully their own, not the same old fascist, party line...
   I tightened the sash of my robe and began to drum my fingers together, trying to divert my thoughts from the approaching time of proclamation, but realized that the mounting anxiety and doubt was inevitable. Was it naive of us to think that we could illuminate the minds of those who watched, or would mental barriers resulting from life long conditioning and ritual prove impenetrable, emotional and intellectual capacities having been incalculably diminished?
   It was difficult to keep from squinting under the halogen lights, their brilliance reflecting in the golden staff which I held in my hand as I took long strides over to the lectern. Most of the students were silent, but an undercurrent of restlessness filled the sanctuary. They probably sensed that I wasn't their real instructor, but they most certainly were absorbed. Perhaps there were vestiges of curiosity, an immutable fire, buried within the depths of some of those young, wide eyed souls.
   I raised the tone of my voice and stood poised over the front row, reciting my carefully prepared speech. Suddenly my assistant waived his left hand frantically; keeping the camera poised in my direction, he crept over to the side door. I took this as my cue, removed the black robe and tossed it in a baroque waste basket, then casually walked out of the other door. I could see the real minister approaching, leather briefcase in hand, official badge pinned to his breast; he was distracted and didn't seem to notice anything unusual.
   After making my way out into the tangle of narrow, asphalt covered streets, I met up with two other members of the underground. We talked softly, but an undercurrent of excitement filled the conversation, as if each word were electrically charged. We really thought that we could change things, and we hoped that change would come soon. Careful to conceal our little public assemblage, we stood in the shadows between two of the tallest stone towers. It was a dim and overcast day, difficult to see, but we could tell that someone was approaching from across the street and that they were headed in our direction. It was a young woman, short dark hair, pregnant. She was wearing a very solemn expression.
   It was bad news; one of our co-conspirators, a key element to the resistance, had been caught. Having infiltrated into the turbid, waste filled waters of various government tributaries over the past few years, he had been a source of vital information. Plans to continue with our media broadcasts, to help countless numbers of emotional slaves to escape their bonds, could be squelched. To begin the revolution of knowledge without first attempting to break the cycle of conditioning could be dangerous, we might have to neutralize the state broadcasting network entirely, perhaps even resorting to the use sabotage and violence.
   Our spy having been most assuredly apprehended, there was a possibility that he would be tortured, interrogated, that he might incriminate others. We were not only fearful for his life, but for our own as well, not to mention the loss of hope and years of planning for the revolution. Would our efforts prove to have been in vain? Were inquisition officers being dispatched at this very moment, being sent to apprehend and imprison us all? This dark skinned young man with strong, bony features, so intelligent and brave, one who had almost single handedly delivered us from the hypocrisy and oppression of the system, was also the young pregnant woman's husband. She began to cry. I took her in my arms and let her weep on my shoulder. We embraced for a very long time. The others were silent. Then the ground began to shake.
   The tall buildings began to crumble, falling across countless streets which began to fill with currents of terrified people, like insane ants erupting from their nest after having been stirred up by some unidentified foe. I began to run too, instinctively, but then remembered the pregnant woman. I turned around, but the only thing there was a pile of rubble and some rags swirling in the wind.
   As I looked out towards the edge of the city all I could see were the long collapsing bell towers, office buildings and chapels, billowing clouds of dust, piles of broken rocks and fractured cornices. People were screaming, running wildly, crying... The sun was obscured by dust and airborne debris as our world became dark and the deafening roar grew in intensity; it went beyond the threshold of pain and beyond limits of human understanding. At last I had reached the outskirts of the state office district, the edge of a vast, desolate wilderness which now covered most of the earth.
   The forest was mostly populated with dying trees, mounds of junk and automobile carcasses. Acid rain as well as chemical and industrial wastes had taken their toll over the years and there were very few living creatures left; an occasional, oddly mutated insect or small plant. Most of the trees remaining had no leaves. But then, there were always the lizards...
   I kept shouting as I ran, I'm not sure exactly what I was saying, everything was happening so fast, everything so crazy... I tried to tell everyone that we needed to stay together or at least form small groups, but nobody seemed to hear me. People were running in all directions; it was beyond chaos. I could hear shrieks deep within the thicket of dying trees, dried up weeds and shrubs, and the lumbering of the giant lizards. Every so often I could see one of the enormous beasts, dark scaly hide, big empty eyes, long tail slithering behind... They would emerge from the edge of the thicket, test the air with their tongues and then launch themselves back into the forest in the direction of human cries and shouts. The trees would shake and the rumbling would make its way through the hard packed soil and up into your legs, causing your stomach to curl up... shaking your very soul.
   I sprinted into a clearing surrounded by tall trees and a lizard darted out just ahead of me. Scrambling, I reached the nearest tree and began to shinny up its frail trunk, like the dried back bone of some fossil animal. As I made my way to the top, feeling secure for the moment, high above the jaws of the beasts, I heard something faint, something strange and unexpected. It was a mechanical sound; I hadn't heard anything like it in many years, but it was unmistakable. Just then the hideous machine popped down from the heavens, right in front of me; I slipped and found myself hanging on the end of swaying branch.
   It was a helicopter, a relic from the war. There were four men in the machine, one of them wielding a long pole with a curved, metal scythe on the end. I could hear the men shouting over the roar of the engine; it was odd, being so close to them, it seemed like only a few feet... But they could not reach me; they just stared intently, directing waves of hatred and fear in my direction; I was certain that it was fear though, the basis of their bigotry, their hatred. The man began to saw the base of the branch I was holding on to. When he was about half way through there was a crackling sound and it started to split. I was clinging to the end of that branch with all my strength, astonished at the absurdity of such a great machine occupied by four grown men, being used as an instrument of terror and destruction, and all of that hateful energy being directed at one man...
   The branch finally sagged, but slowly, and the helicopter popped back up into the air and darted off in another direction like some insane, enraged insect. To my surprise, I fell very slowly, clinging to the severed branch, but noticed that a few stringy sinews remained connected to the tree trunk. These delicate sinews broke my fall and I was able to grab on to the lower branch of another nearby tree. When I let go I was astonished to find my feet planted firmly on the ground; I didn't even feel them touch. It was as if some synchronistic force or will had prevented me from falling to my death, but instead, provided me with a sort of comical elevator ride back to mother earth.
   For some reason I began to run back towards the ruined city; I'm not sure why, but somehow I felt that I could survive there, that I would be safer. It was an impulsive thing, perhaps some sort of primal attraction to the material world, the only world I had ever really known. I reasoned that how ever difficult, I would somehow manage to salvage enough technology, enough artifacts from what was once a flourishing civilization, to live comfortably. I wondered if I would find any others who may have acted on the same impulse.
   There was a giant mound of rock and rubble near the center of the city, something that I didn't recognize. It had many gaping holes around its base; now it was kind of like a small mountain amidst the skeletal remains of what were once tall, prominent urban features. Anyway, this small mound had a sort of parapet along the top, almost taking on the appearance of a tiny, wayward castle. I wandered around the base of the mound looking for some convenient way to ascend to the parapet. Eventually I found a small passage which led inside and then a crack in one of the walls; the crack was wide enough to crawl through and extended upward like a chimney, allowing me to reach the upper portion of the deformed castle.
   Once inside, I found a long hallway, the floor of which was lined with a velvety red carpet; there were wispy, abstract shapes formed in relief on its surface. The vestibule was very tiny, as if it were scaled down to accommodate children, or perhaps dwarfs and midgets. There was a stained glass window at the end of the hall, it was elliptical and had red glass in it, flooding the dwarf sized hallway with a dim blanket of bloody red light. After studying my surroundings for a few moments, I began to hear some busy, high pitched sounds... voices, I thought. Then I noticed the funny, trapezoidal door near the end of the hall and to the right.
   I went up to the little red window and tried to peer through one of its translucent sections; I could almost make out vague patterns of the battered landscape outside. Somehow it was comforting to have this kind of isolation, albeit psychological, from the oppression and decay that seemed to be smothering our world. I noticed some dusty cobwebs spanning the water-stained window frame, but no spiders...
   The shrill babbling sound that I had noticed before, coming from behind the trapezoidal door, suddenly became louder and I turned around, only to see a strange little creature, apparently wearing no type of garment at all, emerging from it's den. It was very small, hunched over, and it's skin was composed of different shades of green with deep wrinkles and creases where its limbs protruded. The odd creature had thin tufts of white hair flowing from the back of it's head and was humming to itself as it slowly hobbled into a connecting vestibule. When it disappeared, I tip-toed down the hall and entered the room, but when I turned around to close the door, the creature was standing in the door way, trembling, eyes wide and mouth agape.
   I woke up in the little bed, pushed up against the far wall of the tiny room. The room had a row of very small round windows, similar to the one at the end of the hall outside; it had pieces of yellow and orange glass in it, held together with a tarnished metal framework. I didn't remember anything about the little man, where had he gone? Did I hurt him? Or did he just become frightened and run away? In any case, I should have been worried; killing or injuring any creature would have been a horrible, detestable thing to do, but if the creature was unharmed and had made it's escape, then it was sure to inform the authorities and bring them back to apprehend me. I just lay there in the tiny bed, feeling secure under the covers, bathing in the warm, dim light seeping through the tiny windows.
   There was an oblong box with a glass window on one end; it was a compact television set. This was probably the source of the high pitched babbling sounds that I'd heard when I was lurking in the hallway. I turned it on and a powerful beam of electric light spread out across the covers, reflecting blue and red and green in my face. I became mesmerized and couldn't move a muscle; I was trapped, but I felt happy and sedate. I just lay there, a half smile on my limp face, staring into the phosphorescent abyss of the screen. It was clear now that life as I had once known it had ended... and there was no future. Meaningless sounds and images filled the air, filled my head, and there was no room left over for any of my own thoughts.

Copyright 2005 Schuyler Hupp All Rights Reserved

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