ELOV

I was stopped at a light when I saw the truck behind me. It looked like it could have been one of the old U-Haul vans, but instead of the on-a-budget parent attempting to move hundreds of boxes on their own, two men in white pinstripe suits wearing round glasses occupied the vehicle’s cabin. I’d heard of the incidents on the news—Man Resists “Taking” Using Semi-Automatic Rifle or “Taking” Incident Causes Deadly Car Chase. In fact, it was Avery who warned me. “Be careful” She’d say, “Takings have gone up 20% this month.” I thought of her now. She was probably sitting in the living room watching another documentary on the vanishing of the glaciers. I had admired her curiosity since we’d met on a guided tour of a local museum. We fell in love and were married two years later. Now, Avery wanted to be a psychologist and was balancing school with interning at a number of local mental health clinics. I, on the other hand, worked as a carpenter for my uncle’s construction company. We’d spend our days working and saving up for a house away from the city. I heard a knock on my window and saw a pinstriped suit standing outside. “Sir, you are going to have to come with us.” I wasn’t going to resist; if the countless images of overturned cars half eaten by trees had taught me anything. As I walked out of my car, I noticed that the man that was escorting me to the back of the truck was considerably taller than his counterpart. In any other context, the men could easily have been the stars of a double act. As I was loaded onto the trailer, I noticed the mix of apologetic and self-righteous expressions on the faces of the drivers around me. My eyes stayed fixed on the endless grid of cars as the roll-up door wiped down and trapped me in a dark metal enclosure.

The loading dock at which we had arrived revealed a massive hallway going on endlessly in either direction. Opposing each dock were a small flight of greasy stairs paired with a handicap ramp that looked to be just a little bit too steep. Before me stood a number of men whose pinstripe suits reflected the hall’s bright fluorescent lights. They were making conversation as if completely oblivious to my arrival. Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw the shorter one of the two men that had taken me. He appeared to me now with much more clarity. He was an older man whose hair no longer sustained any pigment. A thin white mustache lay above his upper lip as if it had been glued on.

“There’s got to be some mistake,” I say as he grabbed my arm. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

This was true. I had a perfect driving record, my taxes were always on time, and I’d only called in sick once in the last year. As far as I was concerned, there was no reason for me to have been in any trouble, far less taken. The man disregarded my comment, walked me up the stairs, and then through an awkwardly heavy stainless-steel door.

We entered a maze of narrow passageways that seemed to wind with no particular structure or purpose. The white walls looked like they had been intended to produce a particular purity, but instead were washed out and maintained faint trails of grime. Each corridor contained about five doors on each side; doors similar to the metallic entrance the undersized man and I had stumbled through. However, these doors had reached a veteran status that hinted at the loading dock being a newer extension. Neighboring each door was a small red plaque that had been engraved with a series of four white letters—LLEB, DUEN, UANR.

We stopped about a third of the way through what I thought had been the 12th hall, although I had lost count. The stubby old man gestured at the door to my right implying that this was the end of our journey together. The plaque read ELOV. I walked into the room and heard the door let out a deep clap behind me. The room was completely concealed in darkness except for the light let out from an old analog television facing the wall. It was placed at the center of a table in the middle of the room.

“Christopher!” let out a welcoming voice on the somewhat muffled speakers of the television.

That wasn’t my name. The machine then produced what sounded like a high-pitched hum along with a consistent static.

“William!” the voice shouted.

This was correct, although nobody had called me William since I was in middle school. I take a few careful steps closer to the TV set. The square confines of the screen housed a man that looked to be in his early 40s. The suit he wore resembled that of the other men I’d seen, but instead of pinstripes, the suit was white and barren like a frozen tundra. He seemed to be missing the round glasses of the others as well.

“Take a seat,” he says.

I sit down in a cold metal chair and lay my arms on the provided armrests.

“Welcome to the final stage of what is known as the taking. You are doing a great service to the people of your country, and we thank you.”

A somewhat underwhelming rendition of the national anthem began to play over the images of citizens enjoying daily life before being abruptly interrupted. What followed was a cheap educational video on alternate sources of fuel and their faults. If the video had been of a higher quality, it might have been something Avery would have enjoyed.

“In recent years, scientists have discovered a new and more powerful source of renewable energy. The human mind.”

It was at this point that I began to feel more afraid than I had ever felt as I pieced together the puzzle of the takings. I tried to stand up, but my arms and legs had been cuffed to the chair while I sat.

“Our brains are made up of billions of little cells called neurons,” the man continues. “These neurons transmit electrical signals any time we do anything. Upset at your boss? —neurons, scared of public speaking? —neurons. fallen in love? —neurons.”

I tried to squirm my way out of the chair but was forced to sit in terror.

“And, if harnessed correctly, the electrical impulses created when you feel anger produce enough energy to power an entire street for a month! And you, William, are going to help us power the country.”

The man makes this concluding statement as the orchestra returns for an encore of the now seemingly artificial national anthem. The mechanical groan of a robotic arm grows louder, and I suddenly feel the squeeze of a ring-shaped mechanism encasing my head. The man on the TV had disappeared, and in his place were the images of my most horrifying premonitions. I saw my parents—resentful of the career I had decided to pursue. I attended their funerals. My uncle had decided to fire me soon after the services. I couldn’t differentiate between the screen and reality. I still had Avery. I saw our house in the country. It was an old-fashioned log cabin with eyeliner lilies in the windows—Avery’s favorite flower. We had kids—Jess and Sam. I saw them playing chess in the middle of the living room as Avery and I sat and spoke about the future. One hot summer, the forest outside caught fire and burned the house to the ground. I was the only one who got out.

I’m not sure how long I was there. It could have been anywhere from mere minutes to possibly even months at a time. On occasion I’d feel the cold restraints on my arms, but those were the only signs separating me from my nightmares.

Suddenly it stopped. The lights came on in the room revealing the off-white of the unkempt walls that I had last seen in what felt like another dimension. My restraints had been unfastened, and I was free to move. I stood up and noticed that the large metal door through which I had entered this inferno now had a thin gap that contained a stream of white light. I creeped over to the door and wedged it open. The heavy influx of light penetrated my eyes making me feel sick. The hallway looked just as I had left it. I looked down at each end and saw nothing but more corridors.

I start to run through the maze. My steps echo around each corner exploring every possible escape. I try to find rooms that I remember. LLBU? Wait, there wasn’t a B. Was there? DUNR? UAEB? Suddenly a booming voice spoke over an intercom.

“ELOV please return to your room and resume your duties.”

I had been running in circles around myself; a cycle that could have gone forever. Then, I saw it—The cleanest looking metal door in the entire complex. The warped version of myself I saw in its reflection was the first truly welcoming thing I’d seen. I started sprinting down the hall. The happiness I felt was only temporary. As I ran, to my right I saw a board of photographs. How had I not seen it before? The collection of employees depicted across the wall was filled with pinstripe suits and round glasses. I wouldn’t have thought of this as a place that would celebrate its employees, but nevertheless, there it was. Terror filled my heart as I saw her. I imagined all the lies, all the days I’d spent— wasted. It was Avery. She stood as if posing for her school ID. The pinstripe suit and round glasses didn’t suit her. I told myself it wasn’t true, but that would’ve just been more lies. I opened the door to my freedom and stood in a field as a golden hue conceived by the rising sun illuminated a lone group of eyeliner lilies.