The Propaganda License

(CLAMPraven)

            An underground subway station, illuminated by dim streetlights from which pale moth corpses clung lifelessly, was humming with the secretive toil of machinery. There were no footsteps within, and the absence of life gave it a frightening quality. In an age when “magic” was a forgotten word, one would’ve described it as “unnerving”.

            It didn’t, however, unnerve River, who sat upon a bench, a paperback novel in his hand, susurringly narrating the intricate details woven together into knots and veins. The novel was published before the second millennium – years before he was even born – and as such, it was now debated amongst the members of the Bureau whether or not to prohibit it from the shelves. Moreover, it was a science-fiction novel, a book about the future that targets the problems of today, beating around the bush.

            That wasn’t what the Officials of Propaganda wanted people to believe: that there were problems today. To elaborate more on that point, it was their job to eliminate those beliefs. And they were currently pleading their case to the impertinent Bureau secretaries.

            But River was a very intuitive man, and knew with almost absolute certainty that the book in his hand would continue to please for years to come. The Bureau would not consider the requests seriously. Books were for leisure. No one ever took the warnings of science-fiction novels seriously nowadays; they couldn’t relate prose to reality. Even if they could – which was true for a select few - they believed what they wished to believe. That was easy enough. And simplicity counted.

            The easiest thing in the world to do was to lie. He did. Virtually everyone did.

            What allowed him to do this was a small card. It came with his profession.

            Suddenly, the body leaning on the bench stirred. “Is it...is it already night?” It straightened hastily. “Goodness...I must’ve slept too much! I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t be. We don’t have anywhere to go.”

            That wasn’t true. They had somewhere to go, but River was not permitted to disturb his companion with such trivialities. They were supposed to take the subway half an hour ago. It was running late, and the Glass Box would close in an hour.

            The young girl rubbed her eyes awake and peered at him with ardent curiosity. “Forgive me for asking, Doctor, but where are we going?”

            Yes...he was a doctor. That is, he studied psychology at a nearby asylum, some hours away from the station they’d chosen to rest at in their lethargic journey. His job was to counsel patients, more or less, and study their conditions. One could say that he worsens said conditions with his patronizing spiels. He was a powerful individual.

            As one whose tact and improvisation have been trained to please, River was an extraordinarily good liar, one who merited high status amongst the elite. As such, he was able to fabricate an answer on the spot.

            “We’re going to the zoo, Sunny,” he told her gently, with a small smile that betrayed nothing, as he tucked his novel away into a pocket wherein a syringe and a mishmash of other nondescript objects lay. “Everyone is waiting for you there. Your father is there, too. He misses you very much, and he really wants to see you.”

            “Father?” At the mention of this homely word, the girl’s ears pricked up, bitten pink by cold, and she beamed. She was a lovely little creature. “I get to see him again?”

            She embraced him tightly. Tears came to her eyes; they stained his sleeves, which annoyed him somewhat, but it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a bit of washing. The poor child hadn’t seen her father in weeks. River knew perfectly well, of course, that she wouldn’t be able to see him again tonight.

-

            “Who is that man?”

            The two travellers had entered a subway train when Sunny gestured hesitantly towards a homeless old man, who humbly munched on a leftover wrapper in a corner of the compartment. His hair was white and mossy, and his hands were shriveled and blue.

            River wrinkled his nose contemptuously. The disgusting corpse was sucking on a bright blue wrapper, indicating that it once contained Hepatica Drops, a type of legal hallucinogen. It was supposed to induce pleasant thoughts. Yes...the old man’s expression was forlorn, a lazy smile. Clearly, he’d been collecting leftover Hepatica Drops from the passengers. Judging by the ugly hue of his skin, he’d die before the night was over.

            “Him? That man smiles because the people who run the train allow him to ride on it whenever he likes, so that he can greet the people entering happily. They also gave him packets of food to eat. He’s clearly a very lucky fellow,” he lied effortlessly.

            Satisfied with this answer, Sunny nodded merrily. “Oh, I see!” She waved towards the uncomprehending lump. “Hello! My name is Sunny! This is Doctor River!” She pointed enthusiastically at River. “We’re going to the zoo, to see my daddy!”

            The old man murmured contentedly. His brain was already numb. Chemicals were eating away at the tissues in his cranium. Sense after sense was deactivating.

            “He’s tired. He’ll sleep it off,” River explained.

            “That’s nice. It must be tiring to greet everyone coming in the entire day, no matter how happy one is,” Sunny agreed. “Maybe he’ll say hello when we head back.”

            The little girl is so very dim-witted, the doctor knew, because she’d never been able to leave the asylum. So, it was forgivable. Her father needed to protect his reputation by locking her away from the world. He would’ve been appalled, to learn that she was anywhere else. Tonight was a rare exception.

-

            After a few minutes, the two stepped off the train and onto the platform of a new station. On the dirty walls were dog-eared war posters, alerting passerby of the continuing conflict, as well as posters advertising a public execution company.

            Sunny stared at the graphic images in fear. “What are these?”

            River knew what these were, as well. War posters were not uncommon in days when soldiers were few, and they were particularly few in recent years. These spectacularly bright posters, chock full of chauvinism and fierce red print, were not promotions, but warnings for everyone aged eighteen to sign up for the army within the month. Failure to report resulted in death.

Well, at least it was a more reasonable age this year, the doctor shrugged. Every year, an age is chosen at random. One year, all sixteen-year-olds within the country had to tearfully sign their souls to the military. It was rather pitiful to watch.

Scratching his head for an acceptable allegory, River turned to Sunny. “Do you remember...those fairy tales that the asylum workers read to you when you were little?”

She nodded fervently. “Yes! The ones with princes and princesses!”

“Yes...and the princes always save the princesses, don’t they? They earn beautiful brides and the glory of being the hero. Well, this poster here is inviting everyone who is eighteen in the country to be the hero. They get to travel to foreign lands and fight monsters. And when they return, if they’re lucky, they’ll be greeted by their lovers.”

And if they’re unlucky - his mind quipped - they’re doused by nuclear radiation.

“Wow...that’s amazing!” The girl was enchanted with the idea. “And the others?”

River glanced at the other posters. They were all stereotypical advertisements for a bloody execution, to be held during a cocktail party at the royal galleria. The victims would be chained up, shocked by electricity, stabbed with knifes and dowsed with acid; the audience was invited to participate. The Friendly Butcher Co. hosted the live show.

He scoffed. It was nothing special. Just another round of entertainment provided by the same type of companies who kidnap random people off the streets and sell them off as colorful piñatas. As a member of the higher class, he was privy to this type of secret info, not that he cared. It was a wonder that people were still amused by this.

“This is a mannequin,” River explained, pointing to the picture of the hanged man on the poster. “People gather together for sessions, kind of like the ones with you and me, where they torture the fake man, to vent their anger.”

Sunny was horrified. “But why would they do that...?”

“Don’t be startled. The people who gather at these occasions are angry with others and with themselves, and they release their anger here. Then, after the fake man is ‘dead’, they look at how badly hurt he is, and they feel sorry for what they do. This way, they never have to attack a real person. It is a sort of therapy.”

“Oh. Well, I guess so...” she said, attempting a weak smile.

“Go ahead; you can wait for me at the top of the stairs. I’ll be with you soon.”

As the girl pranced on ahead, River glanced at the bottom of the poster, near the Friendly Butcher Co. slogan. A small Orange Mock flower logo was seen beside the company logo, a mandatory sign that only higher officials recognized to be the new, updated emblem of the Propaganda License.

From his own wallet, he took out his Propaganda License, issued a few years ago by the Propaganda Circle, an elite government agency. Companies, such as the manufacturers of Hepatica Drops, the Friendly Butcher Company, the Glass Box, and even River’s own asylum, were issued Propaganda Licenses. He couldn’t think of one large-scale company that didn’t have one of these. Actually, even the military had one of these. So did the government. They were useful cards, giving their owners the ability to lie about their products. They had to be renewed once every few years.

If one lies about something, for the sake of not upsetting the general public, it was made legal by the Propaganda Circle, and by the issuing of one of these precious cards. The Friendly Butcher Co. needed this mainly because they lied about the identity of their victims...they weren’t really convicts and murderers, as claimed. They were ordinary people, every one, who were easier to obtain in most cases. The license also allowed this company to lie to the victims’ families and friends.

All businesses were conducted under the protection of the Orange Mock. They all lied through their teeth. But as long as it didn’t hurt the majority...

River sighed. His license was outdated, and still had a picture of the original Ophrys Spider emblem. He’d have to get his card renewed as soon as possible. For a person who had to lie as often as he had to, this was top priority.

-

            Eventually, the two arrived at the Glass Box, an elegant establishment brimming with shimmering lights and bathed with red velvet. In the lobby was a huge aquarium, wherein fish and crabs pecked and prodded what seemed to be a full-sized mermaid, lying silently in a fetal position on the bottom of the cold tank.

            “Decoration,” River didn’t hesitate to state. “It’s a fake statue.”

            The mermaid was a real girl, preserved by means of taxidermy. Homeless and frightened, she was caught living illegally on another person’s property.

They walked on. Eventually, they reached a display room, empty of all people save for a few doctors, who came to prepare for the event. The room was mainly made of glass, and could be seen from a hall to the left. There was a table placed in its center.

Many of the doctors in the room had donned gas masks, and installed pneumatic piping lead to many machines in the corners. Sunny didn’t recognize these fearsome contraptions, and clung onto River frightfully. “What are these things? Where is my father? When do I get to see the zoo animals, Doctor?”

“Don’t be afraid, Sunny,” was what he’d told her as he left the room. “You’ll be fine. We’ll get to see the animals later, as soon as you do us a small favor. Okay?”

Her response had been a tentative smile, as the doctors told her to mount onto the table, and unanimously switched on the controls to the gas engines...

-

People were packed into the halls, where the display window could be seen clearly. They murmured and cooed as bright pink poison was emitted into the air, engulfing the form of the struggling little girl. The glass was soundproof. As the doctors held her down to the table, she screamed and screamed before she lost consciousness.

“Is my daughter dead yet?” Asked the mayor of the town tentatively, as he walked down the hall to where River observed the scene. He was fidgeting in anxiety.

River nodded, much to his relief. “She’s in there, if you care to see.”

“No.” He sighed. “It’s quite all right. I don’t want to be reminded of my adulterous relationship by any means. That girl should not be alive. I’ll simply stand by.”

            “It was quite smart of you to transfer her to an asylum while you filed out your papers to disown her. At the same time, the woman who carried this child once has now been transferred to a slaughtering company. And now, the illegitimate child is gone, and by no means will any of this reflect on you. May I congratulate you on a job well done.”

            “Yes, thank you. Speaking of which...”

            The mayor’s nervous smile turned into a disapproving frown. “...Have you heard from the Propaganda Circle? Your card...it is outdated.” He brandished his own new card.

            River blinked. “I haven’t heard from them. I...I only realized that today.”

            “Oh.” The mayor examined him grimly. “Doctor, you have made several very important transactions in the last couple of months using the outdated card. That would make the murder of that girl, and many of your previous actions, criminal. There are very...severe penalties for this type of negligence. I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me. There are officers waiting for you to turn yourself in to City Hall.”

            “Turn myself in?” River was shocked. “But, Sir, are you suggesting that I have done something illegal...? What is going to happen to me?”       

            The mayor turned away uneasily. River waited anxiously. There was a pause.

            “Oh, it’s nothing you won’t live through,” he laughed, then coughed.