I looked at the solid iron safe and, feeling my shoulders relax a little, preparing myself to give in to going with the flow as asked of me, I pulled all those items out of my rucksack and handed them over to him. He paid a little more attention to the bundle of cash than I would have liked, but I suppose he had to make sure it ‘was all there’ and that these places must have overheads.
With that, I was in. I would spend the next three weeks ‘finding myself’ and, with any luck, getting to know that mysterious girl whose smile had initially brought me here. What could go wrong? There was sun, sand and sea, peace and most importantly of all, nice people. See you suckers on the other side. I’m living in the jungle, raaahhh!
Part the Second: Hell
Six months later and this place is a fucking hellhole. I was only meant to be coming for three weeks. It rains all the time and I’m fucking starving. Turns out that big, bald bastard is a tyrant and we’re all prisoners. Of our own minds no less! Turns out also that there’s three stages to ‘the learning’ that you need to undergo in order to become ‘enlightened’ .Enlightened my arse. If by being enlightened you mean you must give up all of your personality, free will, and subject yourself to the exploitation—both emotional, physical, and sexual—to the ravings of a bully dressed as a saint and his acolytes, then I guess it’s that. Get me out of here, please.
Why don’t I just run away? Well, there’s the matter of my passport, money, phone etc. I’m not sure I can mentally cope with another ‘talking to’. Reader, I never would have believed how much damage can be done to a man’s soul on account of words! Long ones, short ones, kind ones, brutal ones, concepts and paradigms, parables and litotes, all droning on in a monotone, draining, draining, drowning in them.
And then there’s the ‘free expression formula’, whereby we ‘have to demonstrate free will adherence to the long-established doctrine’. You try doing that, I dare you. I just want my old job back listening to wasp chewing, crusty old Tories at Guildhall. At least you could finish that at the end of the day and go home and get drunk. Here, even your thoughts are monitored. I read a book once called 1984, I didn’t believe it was possible, but it is, and I’m living it. And then there’s the ‘mindfulness meditation’. I mean, what is the point? I just don’t get it. You sit there on the floor, legs crossed, eyes closed, and deep breathing is supposed to take you somewhere, Nirvana, apparently. I’ve taken to opening my eyes when everyone’s are shut and staring at them angrily, fantasising about leaping up and punching them in their stupid, blissful faces, but Baldy caught me doing it a couple of times and destroyed me with the ‘talking’.
The only hope is to get to ‘stage three’, that’s the goal. When you get to stage three you can have your happy looking photo taken like the girl in the advert and then they let you off the island to go to the market or get supplies from the pharmacy. Maybe then I’ll find a way to get into that safe and get my stuff. But the thing is, I’m only at stage two, and Baldy threatened to knock me back to stage one if he caught me opening my eyes again. I’m so miserable. Nice people, shit! Nice people are the worst. Take it from me.
You hear that? It’s the gong. It means we must go over there and sit still for four hours. Four-fucking-hours! (Quietly sobs).
Baldy wants to talk at us before we start.
“People, you are on an individualistic journey, only you can understand your inner you, the inner peace and strength given to you by ‘The Learning’. Some of you are on your way. Some of you, however, are resisting! Are falling into indiscipline!’ Whether he didn’t look at me directly because he was playing one of his mind games I don’t know, but there were plenty of sideways glances, and the back of my head burned till my ears glowed red.
“People, you are chosen for The Learning, it chose you, you who responded to the call, the sound of your inner-I, the voice of your soul. Who would dare to waste such a chance? Who would take a flower in their hand and brutally crush it? Who would take their nurturing mother by the hand, and then throw her down the stairs? People, we must work harder to save the weak among us. We must concentrate on their weakness. We must fill them with our special love. More breathing, then, today, it will be eight hours.’
Can you see? Can you see what they’ve done to me, to each other? Is there no getting out of here? The rope to cross the strait has gone and the raft is on the other side! Is there no way to freedom? I can’t concentrate; it only fills me with hate. For all I know there’s been a war out there, or a pandemic, or been taken over by zombies, while all I have is to listen to these sanctimonious shits torture themselves (and me) for no good reason.
ITS NIGHT-TIME NOW and they’re all asleep. The moon’s full and the cicadas are drowning out the noise of the snoring chorus. I’m out and I’m going. I’m like Captain Willard looking for Colonel Kurtz, and I’m going to find him and bash his brains in. This is the end, beautiful friend.
Can you hear the music? Call me delusional, but that was the problem in the first place. Greed, hatred and delusion. There’s no overcoming them. Don’t even try. Can you picture what will be? So limitless and free. I’m not desperately in need of anything. I got this. There, that rock. It’s heavy, and this is some heavy shit.
What was that? Nothing. Looks like Baldy’s sleeping. His window’s open. Quietly. Like a mouse .Look at him sleeping. Even a monster looks pacific while asleep. Enjoy it buddy, this going to be your last one.
I have second thoughts as the rock is in my hands above his head, I mean, who wouldn’t, this shit’s going to get me into loads of trouble. But at the same time, I finally understand what all those shrinks in the serial killer documentaries meant when they said that the murderer wants to feel like God. It’s true, at this moment, I do. Not only that, I consider it an act of liberation, like those domestic abuse women who finally snap and whack their husbands in the head with an axe.
Urgh, I think I’m going to be sick. I am. He urgh. Bweurgh. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. The sound that it made, like stepping on a dry branch. And his face, it’s gone. His fucking face is gone. God my hands are shaking. The safe! The keys! Look at all these passports, the phones, the money! Fuck it, I’m having them too, what do these dumb bastards need them for.
‘WHAT? What are you doing? What have you done? Help!’
‘Shut up you idiot or I’ll brain you as well.’ It’s ‘that’ girl. She seems to be hyperventilating. ‘Look, keep quiet, come with me, we’ll share the cash and get out of here, only kept quiet, or else! Understand.’ Jumping Jesus Mary and Joseph would you look at her, she’s nodding her head and doing as I say. Whoever knew that life could be this easy. ‘Come on, follow me.’
With all the stuff in the bag we make it down to the beach, and just in time, because I can hear them waking up over there. That’s funny, where’s all the water gone, oh boy is my luck in, it’s like the parting of the Red Sea. I keep turning my head to look at her, thinking that any minute now she’ll be off and screaming, but she just keeps looking at me and following, she must be in shock or something.