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Chapter 7: What if they were wrong?

Matthew Andrews woke up in a hospital bed. Confused, he tried to move his hands, then feet but found that something held them down. He looked straight up and stared at the sterile hospital ceiling above him. He felt tired and slowly drifted back to sleep, still puzzled as to why he was there.

“I see we’re awake now.” A soft voice called out, causing Matthew’s eyes to flutter open. He turned his head to the side to see a medium sized man in a white lab coat. “I am Doctor Cassidy.”

Matthew’s eyes narrowed and he tried to say something, but his mouth felt bone dry and he was unable to manage anything over a hoarse whisper. Doctor Cassidy smiled and nodded after a moment.

“You have been here for about four days.” He smiled with relief, “We were worried for a while.”

Matthew looked puzzled, Doctor Cassidy continued, “You had a nasty reaction to the stun darts the EMTs got you with. For a while, we thought we had lost you.” Matthew’s mind was racing, stun darts? EMTs? What was going on, his mind screamed. He coughed and his eyes bulged out in pain from the effect it had on his dry throat. Doctor Cassidy held a plastic cup with a straw up to Matthew’s lips. The cold liquid felt amazing on his parched lips and dry throat. He sipped ravenously. Finally, he looked back over to Doctor Cassidy.

“What happened to me?” Matthew managed, his throat still aching, “Where am I?”

Doctor Cassidy’s eyes narrowed for a second and then smiled. “You don’t know?” Doctor Cassidy shook his head and then looked at his charts.

Matthew added, ’And why the restraints?”

Doctor Cassidy looked back up, ’It’s standard procedure here.”

Matthew huffed, “And here is?”

“Why the Harris County Hospital for the Criminally Insane,” Cassidy remarked without emotion. Matthew looked at the Doctor with his eyes wide with horror. Surely it must be a mistake, his mind screamed out.

“Why?” Matthew’s mind raced with all the possibilities. What had occurred? What had happened?

Doctor Cassidy looked on nervously, “The Justice of the Peace will be here later to diagnose and judge your case later.”

Cassidy said above a whisper before leaving, “But the charge is sedition against the State. Try to get some rest.”

Matthew just stared at the ceiling his mind trying to absorb some of what he had just been told. He heard the door open again, he looked up to see a nurse walk over to his IV and inject something into it. Before he could say anything, he grew tired and in seconds was asleep.

Matthew’s eyes fluttered open. He was disoriented for a minute or two, trying to remember why he was in the hospital and why he could not move. Slowly words like stun darts, EMTs and the charge of sedition came flooding back causing Matthew’s mind to race. Sedition, he asked himself? What did he do to warrant that charge? He seemed to be able to uncover more questions than answers. Hopefully soon, he thought, the JP would be there and he’d have some answers.

Matthew looked back up at the ceiling and waited.

Two hours later he heard a knock on his door followed by the sound of it opening. Before he even got a look at the visitor, he could smell the sweet fragrance of the perfume. He turned his head to see a tall blonde woman in a light blue blouse and black pants walk in. She wore glasses and had a tag hanging around her neck with a badge on it. She held a black leather attaché case in her left hand. Using her free hand she pulled a leather bound laptop from it.

She stopped at his bed and smiled. She looked at her laptop and then at him. “Matthew Andrews,” she said in a soft voice with just a hint of a Texas drawl, “I am Madison Lefleur, Harris County Justice of the Peace, place five.”

She sat her attaché case on the ground

She continued to read from her laptop. “I see you are being charged with sedition against the state.”

She shook her head at the severity of the crime. She looked up, “Before we decide on a treatment, let’s get some background information.” She tapped his head lightly and added, “And see what’s going on up there.”

Madison quickly turned, saw a chair in the corner, grabbed it and drug it back to his bedside. Sitting down she adjusted her glasses and started writing. Looking up she asked, “Full name?”

Matthew just looked up at the ceiling. “Matthew Sean Andrews.”

Scribbling, she added, “Date of Birth?”

A sigh from Matthew, “February Ninth, 1998.”

Madison looked up, “You’re thirty-six.”

“Right.”

Madison looked over her notes, “Married for ten years, two children, one four, one two.”

Matthew sighed again. His thoughts ran to his wife and children. He hoped they were okay. He wondered if they knew where he was. For that matter, did any of his family know he was here? He simply nodded his head.

Madison added notes to her pad, “And for the record, you work at Houston Community College as an adjunct professor of Philosophy and Histry.”

Matthew just nodded.

Madison set her pen down. “So tell me,” she began softly, “What would make such a learned man betray the State and the very society he teaches?”

Matthew looked at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he said forcefully, “I am a loyal supporter of the State. Registered Democratic-Republican…”

Madison just smiled. The smile a parent gives a child when they patiently listen to their child try and get out of trouble. She merely nodded her head. “I read your dossier. Joined the Young Democratic-Republicans at fifteen, kept your affiliation with them till college, when you joined the college party. Got your Bachelors and Masters from Lamar University in Beaumont where you graduated with honors.”

“Married at the ripe old age of thirty after having lived with your girlfriend for about ten years. You currently reside in the Clear Lake area of Houston.” She smiled. “Impressive background. Not so much as a traffic ticket.”

Here faced clouded, “Until six months ago, when you began to undermine the authority of the state.” She then gave him a perky smile. “However, don’t worry we’ll cure your criminal illness and reunite you with your family.”

Once again Matthew said in an exasperated voice, “I did not commit sedition.”

Madison reached into her case and pulled out a recorder and a manila file with the Texas State Seal on it. She looked at him, “I am going to record the sessions. It will serve as my notes and the official transcript of your hearing.”

Madison opened the folder and read. “Six weeks ago you committed an act of sedition against the State. It was the eighth of June.” She looked at him, we have sworn depositions. She looked at him and said in a pleasant voice, “Think back to the day. You had just gotten ready for work.”

Matthew looked up at the ceiling again and searching his mind for that day and anything that seemed to stand out. He was drawing a blank. He tried to shrug, however, his hands were still strapped down. ’I can’t think of a thing.”

Madison smiled, soothingly she said, “Think back, it was right after you finished scanning the news online.”

Matthew squirmed in his seat as he scanned the news. Another environmental action day declared in the area, NATO troops have liberated the Atlanta area from armed insurgents. The Astros managed to drop a squeaker in the ninth inning to the Tokyo Giants. He shook his head and gulped down his coffee.

“Honey,” his wife called out, breaking his concentration, “You have to use the public transit system today!”

He looked up with a confused look. “The bus?” He paused for a moment, “Why?”

Monica Andrews shrugged her shoulders, “We seem to have exceeded our carbon emissions allotment for the month and the car won’t start.” She continued walking around the room gathering her purse and jacket.

Matthew just grunted, “I thought that we were supposed to get a higher allotment since we had Jackie, the four family rule should have added something.”

Monica merely smiled, “Don’t worry, we’ll get it. In the meantime, we only have to make do for a week until we get our next month’s allotment.” She then added cheerfully, “We’re doing our part to save the planet.”

Matthew tried to be as upbeat as she was, “I lose about five pounds of weight to the Texas sun just because we haven’t gotten our allotment adjusted yet.” He said sarcastically, “I’m overjoyed.”

Monica had a concerned smile on her face, followed by a blank expression, “You know how we have to sacrifice to save the planet.” She added again, “We must all do our part.”

Matthew snorted, and then said as he got up to hug her, “Of course. Have a good day.”

Matthew moved his head over to see the Justice of the Peace. “I can’t think of anything else from that morning. Just the fact that we were out of carbons and I had to take the bus.”

Madison just nodded her head slowly. “Let’s just file that for now.”

Matthew interrupted before she could go any further. “Can I see my wife?” he said in frustration, then on the verge of tears, “my family?”

Madison just nodded her head, no. “Not just yet. I do not think that seeing any of them will aid in your criminal rehabilitation just yet.” She stopped and touched her Bluetooth extension. “Okay.” She said, and then looked at Matthew. Pressing a nurse call light next to his bed she said, ’I have to cut our session short today.”

She picked up her case to leave. “We will start bright and early tomorrow.”

Matthew watched her leave; he closed his eyes in annoyance as the nurse came in. Before he could say anything she had injected something into his IV and the room went dark.

The next morning, Matthew groggily woke up. He noticed that he was still strapped down to his bed. He looked back up at the ceiling. “Guess I could count holes in the ceiling,” he thought chagrined. No sooner than he started, there came a knock at the door.

“Ready for our next session?” Madison Lefluer stated entering the room. Without waiting for a response she sat down, reached for her recorder and grabbed her laptop. She glanced at her notes for a moment and began, “Let’s see, we discussed the beginnings of your sedition yesterday.”

Matthew started to say something but was cut off by Madison. “Tell me what happened after you left for work that day.” She leaned forward,” Tell me about the Bus Stop.”

The heat of the June Texas sun beat down on Matthew. He wiped the sweat from his forehead as he stood waiting for the metro bus. Even in the relative shade of the canopy over the bus terminal, it was hot. He looked at the poster on the back wall. It showed a happy family walking to their destination; in big letters were the words, “We do our part!” Underneath was the Department of Health’s emblem. His face soured as he waited. He mentally thought about everything he had to do today. Having a car would be convenient right now, he thought.

He heard a voice next to him. “Hot day.”

He turned to see an elderly man standing there. The old man looked as if he were about to melt into the sidewalk. Sweat was, it seemed, pouring from the man. Matthew nodded, “it is.” He said, “A real scorcher.”

The old man looked at Matthew, extended his hand and said, “The name’s Rick.”

Matthew clasped his hand replying, “Matthew.”

With a sigh, the old man remarked, “It seems to be getting hotter every year.” He looked at the few cars on the road, he chuckled, “I thought the Climate Bureau promised us a cooler summer…”

Matthew did not reply for a moment, looked at the near empty road, “it takes time to undo the environmental damage.” Rick simply snorted and muttered, “They’ve had twenty years.” I remember a time before the Climate Bureau. Before the DHS started running our lives.” He smiled in recollection.

Matthew looked at him. “We are better for it.” He defended, “ever since it was decided that crime is actually a mental affliction and began treatments.” Matthew added with more resolve, “And without the climate board, the planet would be a wasteland right now. They are saving the environment.”

He looked at the cloudless sky. “Ever wonder if they were wrong about the environment?”

Before Matthew could respond the bus arrived. They boarded the bus in silence. Matthew spent the whole trip lost in thought.

“What if they were wrong?”

Madison looked at him, “So you had never met Rick Sanchez before that day?” She eyed him with suspicion. Matthew shook his head, “never before or since.”

He then eyed her. “How do you know him?” He watched Madison as she flipped through her laptop. Eventually, she got to the page she was looking for.

“They admitted him to the hospice for the criminally insane two weeks ago.” She nodded her head in disappointment, “He had advanced Alzheimer’s. It caused him to become irrational and clouded his judgment.”

She read on, “He was brought in on sedition charges as well.” She frowned looking at Matthew. She flipped back a few pages and said sadly, “He didn’t survive the treatment.”

Matthew wore a shocked look on his face, and then looking at the ceiling the old man’s words haunted him, “What if they were wrong.”

He closed his eyes briefly and then turned to Madison, “Will I survive my treatments?” asked with sarcasm.

Madison shrugged, “it depends on how deeply rooted your illness is.”

She thought for a second and added, “But before we can decide that, you need to confront your crime and admit it to yourself.” She smiled, “That is the first step to recovery. Admitting you have a problem.” She patted his hand reassuringly.

“Don’t lose hope.” She said softly as she stood up. She looked at him, “you have had a lot to digest.”

She turned to leave, “We’ll pick up this afternoon.” The nurse came in again to inject his IV. As he drifted into unconsciousness the words, “What if they were wrong,” repeated over and over in his mind.

Hours later, Matthew awoke with a start. He turned his head to see Madison sitting back in her chair, reading something. She stopped and looked up at him. He blinked his eyes, and looked at her, still fighting off the effects of the sedation.

“Do you feel up to continuing?” she asked. He nodded weakly. She pulled out a pen and turned the recorder back on. Coughing she started, “We have covered the morning in question and the bus stop.” She looked at him intently, “Tell me what happened when you made it to work.”

Matthew sat at his desk, typing notes into his computer. He looked up at his clock and realized it was time for class. No matter how hard he tried to shake it, he kept going back to the words the old man had said.

What if they were wrong? What if indeed, he added. He shrugged, grabbed his notes and headed for the lecture hall to start class. Arriving at the podium in the lecture hall, he surveyed his class. He figured that it was a good sized class for a summer session. Usually he could count on around sixty to seventy students, however, he estimated the crowd at a little over a hundred. Time to earn my pay, he said to himself.

“Welcome to History 1302,” he began, “United States History 1900 to present. Today will be discussing the Vietnam War. Its causes and effects on international diplomacy.”

He paused for a moment as the class started writing down notes. Laptops flew open, pens clicked, at the ready to write. ’All except one student,” Matthew noticed. He grimaced as a male student in the front row just sat there. “Must think he knows it all.” He thought, ’maybe I should assign a paper to the class just for him.”

“But then it would be one more thing for me to grade.” He shuddered. He took a breath and began his lecture.

Halfway through the lecture, a girl raised her hand. ”You mentioned that the United States felt it necessary to maintain a presence in Southeast Asia to keep the communists from spreading, correct?”

Matthew nodded, ’That was the thinking at the time.” He added, “the prevalent line of thought was that if communism won in Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos was not that far behind. After that, the pundits thought, it would eventually spread to Latin America and Africa.

She looked confused, “But it didn’t.”

He nodded, “You’re right.” He added, “The ‘experts’ in the government were wrong.”

Suddenly, the voice of the old man shot forward, “What if they were wrong!”

The girl looked thoughtful, “Sixty thousand American soldiers died and untold numbers of Vietnamese,” she visibly shuddered, “because someone was wrong?”

Matthew could think of no quick reply, instead, he went on with his lecture. “The debacle of Vietnam led to widespread loss of confidence in the government. Where once there was unquestioning loyalty, now there was cynicism.”

“This among other things would continue into the new millennium when the old bureaucracy would be swept away by the new corporatocracy…”

He stopped his usual lecture. Stared at the room, then looked at the girl that asked the question, “But what if they’re wrong.”

She asked, “who?’

Matthew said quietly, “them.” He was surprised to look up and see the young man that had not taken notes get up and leave. He quickly put it out of his mind. Matthew Looked at the class, ’Your research papers on the sixties are due next class. Have a great weekend.”

Matthew looked at the ceiling. The question still bothered him; what if they were wrong. Then what? Could what had been done be undone? Or would they prove to be like governments since the beginning of time, resistant to change? His mind was racing.

“So we come to the crux of your crime.” Megan interjected, breaking his concentration, ’In a position of influence with the leaders of tomorrow, you led them to question the very fabric of the government.”

Matthew was confused, “But isn’t it the right of the individual to challenge authority….” He looked at her and said with firmness, “To speak out?”

Madison shook her head, “The citizen has a responsibility to the state and the state has a responsibility to look after your best interests.” She looked him directly in the eyes, “Questioning that is sedition in its basic form.”

Matthew shook his head, “but if the government is wrong, we have a duty to question it!” he bellowed, “I should have the right to choose if I want to drive to work whenever I want without having the government look out for me!”

Madison sighed, “Such things lead back to the selfishness and waste of the twentieth century. Even if you don’t, the government has your best interests at heart.”

Madison gathered her things, “Think about what I have said.” She said, “I will look over my notes and render a judgment in the morning.”

He made a grimaced face as the nurse once again sedated him.

The next morning he awoke to see Madison Lafleur standing in his room with two white coated men. He remembered one as Doctor Cassidy but was sure he had never met the other portly man.

Madison gave a brief smile to the men and then directed her attention to Matthew. “Matthew Sean Andrews. It is the replaceing of the court that you are hereby diagnosed as medically criminal.”

Matthew closed his eyes and looked straight up. Tears began to form in his eyes. He thought immediately of his Wife and his children. He wondered if he were to ever see them again. He heard Madison’s voice; “However,” she went on, “you have an impressive history of dedication to the state.”

Matthew opened his eyes and looked at her. “It is the replaceing of this court that you are fitted with mental stability chip.”

Matthew looked relieved and confused, “Mental Stability Chip?”

The portly Doctor spoke up. “Simple procedure. We hardwire a series of microchips in your brain in the areas where social deviancy like criminality occurs.”

Madison chimed in, “That way undesirable thoughts are suppressed before they occur.” She smiled, ’You can also download memories into your mind. Imagine learning a language in hours instead of years.”

As an afterthought, she added, “And if you need to recollect something, or if we need your assistance in certain matters like your testimony, we can merely upload it.”

She looked to the doctors. She said formally, “The case is closed.”

Before Matthew could mutter and objection, he was once again injected with a sedative. “What it….” Was all he could mutter before the black void overtook him.

A week later Matthew Andrews was sitting up on his hospital bed. He had just finished getting dressed. “Boy am I ever glad I am leaving the hospital!” He intoned. He felt like he had been there a lifetime, and was really looking forward to being outside again.

“Ready to go Matthew?” the sweet voice of Monica pulled him out of his thoughts. He smiled at her and stood up. He put her arms around her and kissed her forehead. “You bet.” He said.

“The cab is downstairs.” She said.

He looked at her, “Maybe we should walk.”

She looked into his eyes, “you sure?”

He smiled, feeling invigorated, “Of course.”

He added as they exited the room, “We must all do our part.”

“Really?” Matthew remarked coming out of his trance.

“That must be the most disjointed piece of crap that I have had the privilege of living through!”

“I don’t follow..”

“I mean really, a political big brother life? Who thought up that crap?

Miles Kohl looked at the keyboard. He thought that the scenario was pretty good. How dare his character second guess his writing. He suddenly stopped. He was the writer, wasn’t he?

Then where did that come from? He didn’t write it.

Strange he thought. Then went back to typing it.

Matthew shook his head violently, “Not doing that time line. “

Nick sighed reluctantly, ’Okay, how about a vacation in Galveston? Maybe it will clear your head.?

“At this point, I am willing to try anything…”

“Well, go for it and have fun, Samuel Thomas.”

Matthew was tempted to tell Nick what he could do with his idea of fun when everything around him went black