Celsius 233 writing contest entry: Celsius 233

  • By Lee Elliott
  • October 24, 2012
  • 424
                        
“……and that’s the last family picture we ever had taken.” Father studied the photo intently, and turned to his son. “Do you know who these people are?” “Well, that’s you, and that’s Grandpa, but I don’t know who the others are. And how come everyone looks so different,” the boy asked. He was 15, and not into this family sharing time his father had planned. “Everyone looks so different because each person defines his own generation. For example: Look at you, Dexter. You have those huge thumbs and tiny little fingers, practically no mouth and very small ears, perfect for texting all your conversations. I have only one ear; this big one attached to my little benign brain tumor. Why I could hold even the tiniest cell phone to my ear with my shoulder, and never lose it, even when I was driving,” he said proudly. “ Grandpa has those big red eyes and the longest fastest fingers you ever saw, because he was born to be a computer whiz. Now Great Grandpa, on the other hand, was what they used to call a couch potato. He had huge eyes and useless legs from watching television day and night, and Great Grandma had this huge nose and mouth from watching reality shows so she could know everyone’s business and pass it on. They said she could hold a whole watermelon in her mouth.” Dexter pointed to the most elderly in the photo “All of her features are about the same size,” he said, “What was her generation?” Father smiled. “I know you don’t know much about this, but in her day, they used to communicate by talking and listening to each other, and reading written words in books and newspapers and magazines.” “I remember the story about the books. Do we have to go over this again?” Dexter yawned and covered his tiny mouth with a large thumb. “Of course we do,” Father said patiently. “You have to realize that every generation has been looking for the easiest way to communicate with very little effort. .Now that all electronics are gone and written language has been outlawed, the only way we have to pass on our knowledge is by story telling, and that might be hard for you with your little mouth and ears. However, you will only have three choices of professions when you are an adult: Celsius Zapper, Fuel Hunter or Story Teller. I’m sure you would be much happier as a Story Teller like Grandpa and me, so you need to start learning now.” Dexter groaned. “Why did they have to take away electronics,” he whined. “If only I had my phone, I could spread all of my knowledge around the world. Why are they always picking on us kids? First they took Face Book and Twitter, then our e readers and our phones. Who makes these stupid rules anyway?” Grandpa drummed on the table with his long fingers. “It’s the factions,” he growled. “When I was your age, books, newspapers and magazines had already been banned and burned by the Fahrenheit 451 Firemen. The conservative faction decided that stories about sex and worshipping Gods were deceitful and leading the public astray, so they burned every piece of literature they could find. If you were caught reading, you were put to death. They killed your mother’s great grandparents for trying to read the instructions on their medications. Burned their house right to the ground. They were supposed to have gotten all that medical information on the TV. Well, it really was easier that way. People didn’t have to decipher little symbols, or carry those heavy loads of books around. Much easier to just watch TV. “In my parents time,” he went on, “ the TV censors decided we needed to be sheltered from all the news of wars, and violence, and they took away all of the reality shows that let us into other peoples lives around the world. We didn’t know how anyone felt about anything. I tell you, it was awful. My mother died of a broken heart.” “Grandpa grew up in the computer age,” said Father. “That was the fastest kind of communication we had ever had. It was much easier to get information from all over the world by pushing just a couple little keys. The problem was, they kept re-inventing themselves, getting smaller and smaller until they made themselves obsolete. My generation loved carrying around our little computers and talking on them like telephones. But you could always hear everyone else’s conversations so someone came up with the idea of texting and that’s why your generation has forgotten how to talk to each other. Then the factions realized it really was much easier not to communicate at all, so they formed the Celsius 233 Zappers, patterning it after the philosophies of the Fahrenheit Firemen from the book burning days. Celsius seemed a more appropriate name than Fahrenheit since it hadn’t been all that long that the factions had ruled that all measurements must now be metric. And now instead of burning books, they are destroying electronics with lasers. The only difference is the Hedonism Law. Back when they were burning books, the law was that everyone was to pursue the happiness to which they were entitled in the Constitution of the United States. Never mind, you wouldn’t understand it anyway,” he laughed as Dexter frowned. Grandpa chimed in,” so they changed the law so that it only applies until you are 18. You have three more years, but just don’t forget, the Celsius Zappers are mean, and can revoke the law any time they please. When you are 18, you have to get really serious about your job. It has to be your whole life. I suppose everyone will be born with mouths and ears again in the next generation, since they have completely outlawed the written word.” Father slammed the album shut and jumped up. “We’ve been talking way too long. We’re going to be late to work. Come on Dexter, it’s your turn to learn today. You will need to have some knowledge ready to pass on to the masses.” “What do you mean? I don’t have anything to tell. Dexter was terrified. “Well, you’d better come up with something. We certainly gave you a lot of information today. Tell you what. You tell a little story today, and I’ll take you to the Celsius station after work and let you look at the I phones before they destroy today’s take.” Dexter really hated the Celsius Station, but the thought of being able to look at the IPhones once again drew him up the steps and in the door. He couldn’t feel the laser beam passing over him to check for electronics, and he wondered how those same beams could be so destructive. Zap 1, the captain, knew Father to be law abiding, and welcomed them. “Dexter earned a little fun today, Father smiled. He’d like to watch the latest batch of phones be destroyed.” “Why of course. Would you like to hold one before we put it out of its misery?” Zap 1 fairly drooled at the prospect. He loved to watch temptation take its course with the young ones. They were still allowed their little bit of fun. “Here, choose one from the bin.” The heat from the phone was unbearable. Dexter ran his thumbs over the keyboard and trembled. He could hardly keep them from pressing the lovely letters, but they flew off when the sirens loudly signaled an emergency. “You’ll have to leave now, shouted Zap 1. They’ve caught some texters and what we have to do won’t be pretty.” He pressed a button and the phones in the bin disintegrated. Dexter could hardly remember jamming the phone into his pocket. At home, panicked, he ran to his bedroom and tucked the phone into his pillowcase. He refused dinner, too tired, not hungry, and lay down with his head on the pillow. He didn’t move. The desire to text was so strong, he could hardly stand it. What if they knew he took it? What if they knew what he was texting? What would the penalty be? He had heard they might cut off your thumbs. When he knew his parents were asleep, he let his hand creep into the pillowcase and closed it gently around the phone. Under the covers he turned it on and thrilled at the light on the tiny letters. He pushed the first letters slowly, and then his thumbs were flying over the keys. “Is there anyone out there to get this message? Is there anyone out there who can help me get away from Celsius?” The face of the phone remained blank. Distraught, he returned the phone to his pillow, and worrying over what he was going to do with it now, drifted into troubled sleep. He knew his options: tell his parents and have them try to get him out of this, or brave the wrath of the Zappers and turn himself in. He wasn’t 18 yet. The Hedonism Law might protect him. When the ring tone awakened him, he pushed the button to silence it, and hearing nothing from his parents’ room, read the message: ‘We are out here and can help you.’ Overjoyed, he flung the covers back, and began to text: ‘Who? What? Where? When? How?’ When the shadow fell over him, all he could see was his father’s big ear. They took him to the station, disgraced, and turned their backs on him, leaving him to stand alone before Zap I, his horrible face now that of a monster. “You betrayed us and your family. We can’t let the Hedonism law save you,” he growled. “The crime is too severe. First you will destroy the phone that tempted you to steal, and then we will make sure this can never happen again.” Dexter pushed the laser button to destroy the phone, and then they used the same ray to perform the bloodless surgery on his tongue and thumbs. He walked home alone, terrified at having caused his family such grief. How disappointed his father and grandfather must be. He could never be a Story Teller now. As he climbed into bed, someone spoke, a strong voice. Someone must be standing right there. His parents were going to be even angrier if there were someone in his bedroom. He opened his eyes. No one. The voice came again, almost inside his head. “Don’t worry, we are taking care of you. In five minutes you will hear the explosions from all over the country destroying the Celsius Stations and all of the Zappers. Dexter, you don’t need your thumbs to text any more, and you weren’t going to be much of a storyteller anyway. You can work with us now to teach people to communicate again. Here, we communicate by telepathy. It really is much easier.”


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