Heart Lock

The founders teach us that what brought the world to its knees was the irrationality of the human heart. The human heart, they tell us, was its weakest link. It’s what betrayed us. It drove us to want things that we couldn’t have, and to fight for unrealistic passions that turned us away from our innate usefulness. Correct the ability of the heart to overrule the mind, and you’ve saved humankind from itself.

And for the longest time I was certain that the teachings were true. I knew that I was happy, because I had everything that happiness equals. There’s no more war. Violence is almost unheard of. As is hunger, and poverty. Even divorce has become seldom, and only under the most improbable of circumstances, as when my neighbor Mr. Jenkins found out that his wife had a rare inability to conceive that even modern day medicine couldn’t correct, even in a young woman. And he knew he wanted kids. That’s his right. And it should be, because Humanity demands it. For how can we make this world greater if we don’t contribute to the population that produces everything that accumulates to create our happiness?

To remind us of our past, we all wear heart-shaped lockets from birth. They call them Heart Locks. They’re a symbol of our salvation; a reminder that what once ruled us is now under wraps, and is no longer a threat to us. We’re granted them as infants, and they’re paired to our special electromagnetic field. It’s a grand ceremony. It’s taken the place of baptisms, as religion is dead. We see it as useless now. An anachronism. Something we told ourselves about when we were ruled by our emotions. It no longer has any bearing; any usefulness. For, from the time that our lockets are turned on, we’re saved.

At least, that’s what I thought. I did my work. I was the consummate professional; the dutiful daughter; the committed mother; the helpful neighbor. My family had everything that it needed. I was on track. One of the ones that was making the world a better place, assuring that destruction, need, inequality and all the fickle flights of fancy and battles of the old race that I’ve read about can never again afflict us.

But this morning, everything changed. I was walking to work, for I live but a few blocks from my office, and I saw him. I’m polite to people. And I notice things. And normally I like to look around at my fellow members of Humanity and appreciate how much better off we all must be now that we’re saved from calamity. And that’s when I saw Horacio. I didn’t know him then, of course, only that he stood out.

It was the way that he was just standing there. But even more, it was his eyes. He was dressed like most men. Very clean and businesslike. He had to. But he wasn’t even moving. It was very odd. It was like he had nowhere to go. No purpose. No function. It didn’t compute. Something in me drove me to take a closer look. I don’t know what it was that drove me to approach him, exactly. I can’t say I’ve done anything that inane in my life. But his eyes. They were wide, and teary. And he wasn’t in any pain. At least, he didn’t appear to be. So why the tears? What did they indicate? That’s when I remembered reading once about how people used to cry for no reason; simply because something ‘struck them.’

It unsettled me to approach him. To think that I had it in me to do something so absurd. And it unsettled me that he looked so out of place. He wasn’t part of the order. So he must represent… disorder. He represented something that I knew nothing about, except through stories of the past. He was looking around, his eyes tear-laden, scanning his surroundings. He was looking at everyone. And he was… sad.

I found myself walking right at him. Right there, right in the middle of the park along Fifth Avenue. And when he saw me, he stared. And he wiped his tears. And then he smiled. Why was he smiling at me? I almost stopped and turned around, because it didn’t feel quite right. But he beckoned me over. And I complied, for some reason. I swear, it was the first time in my life that I did something without really know why I was doing it. Now I’m not sure whether I was courageous, or stupid, or both. All is new.

I got to within five feet of him, I’d say. And I was transfixed by the look on his face. It was full in a way that I’ve never seen before. It looked like no face that I’d ever before faced. There was… another layer. It almost looked like his face was just a cover, and that it was cracking. Something was emerging beneath it, and it was unpredictable. Just then I thought of the lessons on the previous passions, and I was about to cry out for help. But there was this flash, and this shock sensation. And I stumbled backward and fell onto the grass. I was knocked unconscious. When I woke up, I was surrounded by members of Humanity. I assured them that I was all right. That nothing was wrong. But something was wrong, and was also very right. Something was so right and so wrong that I couldn’t go to work. I went home.

I called in sick. The office manager informed me that a flu was going around, and that he’d have the doctor prescribe me some preventatives. The drone dropped them off half an hour later. But even by then I was in real trouble. My daughter had left her history book at home. At first I thought to call her school and see if I could drop it off. But then something prompted me to open it. And I turned to this lesson on famine. This boy had a distended belly, and flies buzzing around his face. And I couldn’t stop looking at that picture. Something grew inside me. Something I’ve never before known. I was… terrified. Something was alive inside, and was clawing at me. It was telling me things that I didn’t know. At least, I’d never before know them like that. I’d read it all before, but this was knowing it differently. I felt it.

When my eldest son got home, I was in the corner of the living room, rocking back and forth, bawling my eyes out. I was crying. And it felt great. It was horrible, but it felt so good. It was the realest thing that I’d ever before known. But my son definitely didn’t like it. He just stared at me. He didn’t get it. I don’t blame him. How could I? How could he get it? I didn’t get it, and the person I was only hours before certainly wouldn’t have come near to getting it. But then he did this thing that you see dogs do sometimes. He cocked his head while looking at me, like he was trying to figure me out; like he was trying to make sense of an alien encounter or something. And it looked so… funny. I started laughing. And I couldn’t stop. I became what they used to call ‘hysterical.’ All these things started pouring out.

I ran from the house, ordering my son to “take care of your sisters when they get home.” I ran down the street, all the way back to the park. I was panicking. I thought about going to the doctor’s. But what would they do? If Mr. Jenkins was able to divorce his wife because she couldn’t give him kids, then certainly Charles would divorce me for this. For becoming… emotional. For moving backwards in time. For losing my humanity. By the time I reached the park my head was spinning. I felt sick. I looked and looked and looked, but tried not to look like I was looking. But I know people noticed. But I had to talk to that man. He must have done something to me. Then I noticed that my Heart Lock was flashing red.

I’d heard about it before. Flashing red means that it’s trying to reset, I think. Sometimes the Heart Locks malfunction, and it’s absolutely essential that we take them in to be repaired immediately, else risk losing our minds. I was terrified. I covered the flashing light with my hand so that no one could see. People were definitely looking at me… And then I heard sirens. The police. It’s so rare to hear that sound. Were they coming for me, I wondered? Just as I was about to run, Horacio grabbed me. Again there was the flashing light, and the shocking sensation. And when I woke up, he was leaning over me.

But we weren’t in the park anymore. We were somewhere unlike anyplace I’d ever seen. It was dark and disorganized. There were… candles, I think they’re called. And this thing was spinning on the table, and music was coming from it. Humanity sometimes listens to music, but not like this. The sounds were different. But it wasn’t just that it sounded different. It was that the sound penetrated me. It was doing something to me. I smiled, then laughed, then cried. I was completely out of control. And there Horacio sat, just watching me, a big grin painted across his face. He watches me now, with the same teary eyes.

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Try not to be afraid. It’s your emotions. You’ve never used them before.”

“What did you do to me?!”

“I’ve woken you up. You were in a trance, or asleep, or under a spell. There are many ways to see it. But the important thing is that your heart, the seat of your truest self, was locked, and its been unlocked.”

“You destroyed my Heart Lock?! Why?!”

“Isn’t it obvious why? Don’t you now feel the truth of the why at every moment? With every feeling?”

His eyes are full. There’s a truth in them that I’ve never know, for it’s not a truth that can be read.

“Yes…” I finally manage. “So I’m no longer… saved? I’m no longer a part of Humanity?”

“You hadn’t been saved. You’d been enslaved. The plutocrats know it. You think that they wear the locket? No, because it destroys the whole purpose of being a human being. You were a machine living the dream of humanness, unable to realize that you were living a nightmare. You had no reason for your existence, because that reason had been taken away from you, and you didn’t even know it. They told you that passion is what led to the wars and the melting of the ice caps and all the storms, and so it must be kept locked within. But now you know you’d locked away your truest self, and now it’s free.”

I’ve spent the night with him now, and I can never go back. Never. They’ll find us. He’s certain of it. And when they come bursting through the door protecting this sanctuary of life, ready with replacement Heart Locks, we’ll take a pill. And we’ll drift into a nothingness greater than the one we came from.