The Minority Resort - Science Fiction

by: K. Dick Gibson

(c) Dick Gibson

Deckard wanted to dream of sheep, but the electric shocks had turned him to an android. He obyed commands, the commands of the Eye in the SKy. They commanded him daily to run through the maze. He sensed, despite the fuzzy feelings, that if he ever solved the maze, it would be death. Which is why he wanted to get to the Resort. He had to get to the Resort, so he could relax, so he could get some sleep, and dream of those sheep.
The eye in the sky followed him wherever he went.
'Deckard Palmer, ' it would say, "isn't about time you went to bed?' Of course, Deckard Palmer couldn't sleep, because of the Eye in the Sky. Deckard Palmer secretly wished he could destroy the Eye with his zap gun, the small device he kept secreted in the one place the Eye couldn't get. Deckard's secret place. When he came to use his zap gun, he knew he would smash the Eye, as if he were a god wielding Vulcan's Hammer, striking with the force of a volcano. He'd smash the Eye so hard there would be no presererving the machine. Not even the Golden Man, the one in white with the steel rimmed eyes who watched Deckard's progress through the maze, not even he with his british dicks would be able to fix the Eye. And it would be O.K.
'Deckard' his pal Steven Cruise would say after Deckard had been run through the maze, ' You need a break, why not the Resort? Its a great place for people like us, the minorities.."
" I'd like to get there, ' Deckard would reply shyly, awed by the knowledge of Cruise who had been there, " I'd like to get there, to the' and here Deckard would slowly say the phrase he had come to love, to dream about, hope against hope for such that when he spoke it, the name eased out in a quite breath.
"The Minority Resort..."
"I hope you do. It can be a bit tricking. You got to know the right people, the ones with the keys. But once youre there, its the gravy train, kid, the gravy train." The words of Cruise filled Deckard's head with a divine invasion of heavenly images. A place where there was color, where plates and utensils were made of wood, where windows could be opened and closed. Where everyday Deckard could drink coffee. Where there would be no Eye, no maze of death to run.

After a run in the maze, Deckard would sit in his room. Despite the terror the Golden Man would put him through with the head gear, the shocks, the finger numbing tasks and the syringes with the fluids, the post maze rush left Deckard feeling flushed. At these moments, lying on his bed looking up at his ceiling he'd decorated with photographs torn from the photomagazine he received every two-weeks, Deckard felt pride. Deckard felt as if he'd just played a game, and that he'd played hard. Lurking in a corner of his mind not scarred by the altering fluids the Golden Man fed him through an intravenous attachement, was a sense of old berkely scanner pride. He was a game player, and a good one. In fact, welling up at odd moments, without the darkley misting shadows from the high castle of the reportage, moments such as lunchtime in the cafeteria, or during the groupings when all his friends and aquaintences gathered to talk about themselves and their feelings, would come a secret feeling of accomplishment. Deckard never spoke of this out loud, even though he was encouraged to discuss his feelings. Instead, he kept it close. This feeling of being a good game player, of a titan game player , gave him pleasure. And with this pleasure, came strength. this strength kept him on his feet until it was time again.

Mid-week was usually Deckard's time for the maze, though lately, after a series of repeated back-to back sessions, time seemed out of joint. Deckard no longer knew the day or time. His watch given him a long time ago by his mother seemed to nowdays run backwards. His daily visits with his friend Cruise occured at odd hours, with no rhyme or reason, as they had before. It was as if he was living in a counter clock world, or in a type of time slip. There was a fuzzy feeling in his head that refused to leave. All his food tasted like crackers. Only the color of his room and the walls was constant.
"Perfectly normal, as far as we can tell, " the Golden Man assured him as he attached Deckard to the various diodes and nodes necessary for running the maze. " Your responses are in accordance with research at the other centers. But you, Deckard are ahead of the pack! COngratulations!" Deckard hoped his performance would be up today, if there was such a thing, him just sitting there blank in the room with the machines and drugs. He had no recollections of what occurred during his runs, he just hoped they would one day stop. Mainly because of the ant, the electric ant that kept appearing to him as he sat there in the chair and reacted to the Golden Man's manipulations. "Deckard, " the electric ant would say to him, " what are you doing with your life?"
'I don't know, " Deckard would mumble sadly, as he truly was at a loss as to what to do with himself.
"You don't have to take this, you know. Look at your pal Cruise, he gets to go to the Resort.'
"I'll get there someday, " Deckard would reply, convincing himself, 'I'll get there someday."
" I hope you take me with you, " the elcetric ant would say sadly before wandering away under a heavy bank of computers.
Through all these exchanges, the Golden Man was especiially observant, peering under Deckard's eyelids and taking his pulse. Deckard often tried to tell the Golden Man about the electric ant, but only drool emerged from his mouth. Later, after recovering, Deckard would tell Cruise about the ant as they shared a lunch in the cafeteria.
'That ant sounds ok. " Cruise said. "If you do get to the Resort you should take him. He sounds like a friendly type. You know, I used to have a pet cockroach. I think its a father thing. My father hated cockroaches. Used to say I was one. How could I be one if I was his son? I'm glad he's not here."
'The cockroach?" asked Deckard confused and wondering if he could get seconds on the tater-tots.
" Naw, my father. Listen Deckard, why do you let the Golden Man put you in the maze?"
Deckard couldn't answer Cruise clearly. The Golden Man was golden, that was why Deckard continued with the maze....

To Be Continued!...

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