THE DOG WHISTLE.

Frankie Twister threatened the viscreen with a chicken leg.

“That’s the problem you see Janice.”

Janice Twister sat to her Husbands left on their comfcouch.
She wasn’t eating though, she was occupied with designing Christmas sweaters on her viscreen. She looked up from her latest effort, dolphins holding Christmas trees.
“What is it dear?” Frankie had resumed devouring the chicken leg. “Are you okay Frankie?, is this show bothering you?”

Frankie Twister threw the bone onto his plate. He rolled his eyes and sighed, “It’s the antiques roadshow isn’t it?” He replied.

Janice glanced at the screen. “I didn’t know you liked this show,” she said. “And the med told you not to watch shows that make you angry.”

Frankie Stared intensely at the screen “I’m not angry,” He replied curtly. “It’s the antiques bloody roadshow, how could I possibly be angry?”

“Well you’re shouting at the TV again.” Janice remarked gesturing towards the screen.

Frankie closed his eyes and dropped his head down as though he had been shot in the neck with a poison dart. After a few seconds he composed himself and drew himself upright, his eyes still closed. The antidote obviously dwelled within him.

He opened his eyes and slowly turned to his wife.
“It’s like I told you before, Star Wars episode one came out twenty years later than Star Wars the original, you know episode four.”
Bemused, Janice regarded the strange little doll being discussed on the show.
“I don’t know Frankie, it just looks like Star Wars stuff to me, don’t worry about it so much.”

Frankie tilted his head back as far as it would go and mumbled something to the ceiling God. He turned slowly to his wife who had now retreated to her visscreen.
“The difference is Janice, is that most of the people who go on this show don’t know the fucking difference between Star Wars Seventy Seven, Star Wars Ninety Nine, Buck Rogers, Pissing Battlestar Galactica, or any of that shit back then that used a blue screen.” He picked up another leg.

Sitting quietly on the floor between his parents and the Visscreen sat their son Gater.

Gater was oblivious to his parents conversation, although he did glance at the screen now and then. His main focus was on his own action figures, a ball dropper, his mechano games, and several comic books.

Gater was eleven. He had lived with his parents in the hab unit for over six years. The Government usually returned children to their parents when they were Three years old. They had kept Gater for nearly five. They did not know why, and they certainly never asked.

Frankie Twister was preparing to point his latest chicken leg at the screen, when suddenly a loud high pitched grating noise began to emanate form the visscreen. It was so loud that it drowned out the conversation between the two men on the show.
It was a horrible noise, it seemed to pulsate and rattle the soul. Frankie felt his brain vibrating. Frankie dropped his chicken and covered his ears. He turned to his wife who had done the same, Gater seemed unaffected.

“What the hell is that?” Shouted Frankie. He looked as though he was trying to crush his own skull. Janice had picked up two cushions and was using them as impromptu earmuffs. She squinted at the screen. ”It’s the emergency signal.” She shouted in reply. “They have to broadcast it sometimes.”
“But why?” Pleaded Frankie, his head still not crushed.

“In case there’s an emergency, you know a flood, or if the atmosphere collapses again, or..” Frankie cut her short.
”I know what it’s for Janice for fucks sake, I want to know why they have to put it on right in the middle of the antiques roadshow, I would rather suffer any of that stuff than have to listen to this torture. I’ve gotta mute this, where’s the remote?” He began to scan the table in front him, no positive results.
“Well?” He demanded, “Where is it then?” He turned and glared at his wife. “ I don’t know do I ?, I haven’t touched it for months.”
Janice saw her husbands face turn colors. “Look, you had it last, why don’t you just stand up?” She offered.

It was bold, but she was nervous. It was all she could do.
Frankie stood, slowly, as if he had been asked to walk to his own death. Janice looked at the sofa crater, then reached over and retrieved the warm remote her Husband had been incubating.
“Here you go..” Frankie snatched the remote from her. Now trying to cover both ears with his left arm he turned and aimed the remote at the screen with determination. He located the mute button with his big thumb.
He began to squeeze down on the button, when at that second, the noise stopped.
“About fifty thousand Ecreds.”
“Oh really, I never would have guessed.”

Frankie stared at the screen still pointing the remote. After what seemed like a long time to Janice he finally sat back down. A rush of air escaped from the depths of the couch.
“So now it stops.”
“What dear?”
“What, what do you mean what, the noise.” He gestured towards the screen. “I say there you go, bloody typical, as soon as I find the remote that damn noise stops.” Frankie threw the remote down. It hit the edge of the coffee table, and bounced back into the air. The remote, maybe exacting payback for being treated so badly all these years, twisted in the air and bounced off the cushion next to Janice.
They both watched as it then niftily disappeared over the back of the couch. Frankie grimaced as he heard it hit the tiled floor hard with a nasty crack. Janice tried to return her attention to her visscreen. Frankie put his head in his hands.
Then the noise started again.

Frankie moved his hands from his face back to his ears.
“Aaaarrrghh!” He sprang form his seat, and before Janice could protest he moved to end of the couch. Grabbing the wooden armrest he hoisted the couch into the air. Janice went tumbling into the other armrest, she managed to keep hold of her visscreen. Holding the couch with one arm he dropped to his knees and used his free arm to seek the remote.
“Ha!” Amongst other debris he had manage to locate the remote. He stood up, dropping the couch at the same time causing Janice to tumble back to her original position, still clutching her visscreen.
Frankie turned and pointed the remote at the screen like a man possessed . He pressed the mute button. At that exact same moment, the last ditch rebellion of the wronged remote, its’ battery casing detached itself and dropped to the floor, closely followed by two batteries.

Still hopefully pressing the button that would rid them room of the noise, Frankie watched as the batteries hit the floor, then rolled under the couch. Janice held a stopping palm to her husband, who had turned red and was breathing heavily. She kneeled down on the floor, reached under the couch and retrieved the batteries.

She stood and handed them to her panting husband. “Could just unplug the set.” She mumbled as her husband snatched the batteries and snapped them back into the remote. Point, click, nothing.
“Come on.” screamed Frankie as squeezed the remote again and again.
“Maybe you put the batteries in the wrong way.” Offered Janice shouting.
His chin hit his chest. He switched the batteries, pressed the mute button, the set was silenced, the noise had stopped.

“Thank fuck for…”

The horrible noise from the TV was gone, but now there was something else, worse.

The remote would not help this time, Gater, their son was screaming his head off.

The next morning Janice and Gater left the Hab. The night before swirling around her head. They had managed to calm Gater down, eventually. After much angry scared conversation, it was decided that Janice would take him to the med unit at the mall.
Frankie watched them leave in silence. The door slid shut, and they were gone.
Janice held Gaters’ hand tightly as they headed along the walkway towards the elevator tube. “Hello Mrs. Twister.”
Janice spun around. “Oh, hello Mrs. Sabine.”
Gater liked this woman. She lived two or three habs down on their level. She was always kind to him and smiled whenever she saw him. He heard his parents talking about her, worried about why she was always trying to talk to them and stuff. They had heard rumors that she used to be a teacher once, before the schools went.

“How are you Janice? I hardly see you at all these days.”
“I’m fine.” Janice pulled Gaters arm and they started off again. “We’re fine, I’m taking Gater to the lake.” She said without turning around.
Gater looked back as he was being ushered along. He saw Mrs. Sabine smiling at him with concerned eyes. She watched them until the curved walkway took the women and boy out of her sight.

Janice stuck her head out into the vast street. It was empty. The transport shelter was about two hundred yards away. She often wished that they would build one closer to the main door. She heard that some hab units had the transporters integrated into the lobby, she would really like that.

She looked left and right while they trotted across the street. To the East the street rose up, the horizon was hazy this time of day. She thought she saw two fuzzy silhouettes standing at the top of the road.
The figures were now moving, maybe they had seen her, maybe they were moving towards her and Gater.
She pulled the boy into a run.
Breathless now, they reached the shelter. She strapped Gater into his metal seat, pressed the button, then sat down herself, just managing to fix her straps before the platform dropped into the ground and attached it self to a tube ferry.
Gater loved these rides, he would read the engineers graffiti as they flashed by.

Although she was relieved to be in the mall, she wanted this trip to be over and back in her hab with Frankie.
Gater loved the mall, he had been here twice this very cycle. He wondered why it was so big, there was hardly ever any people here. As they rushed along the shiny white marble floor he looked up through the high crystalline ceiling.

The sky was clear today, just a clear blue. The skyscratchers zoomed across the sky. They were so high they appeared as glints of light. They left thin trails behind them, different colors, red, blue, green, gold, and silver too sometimes. Nobody had ever seen a skyscratcher up close, and nobody knew what they did. He had heard his Father say it was a government thing. Frankie always had a good laugh when Gater told him he was going to be a skyscratcher pilot someday. He did not understand why his Father did that.

‘He won’t laugh anymore when I’m flying around in my skyscratcher.’
Gater planned to have a silver trail.

The cybermed unit opened out to the mall floor. It had twelve booths, six on each side. Two units were busy on the right side, both single women. Janice led Gater to the fourth booth in on the left hand side, even though the mall was practically deserted Janice felt insecure.

“Please scan your med card.”
After Janice scanned her card the screen flicked into life.
The nurse was wearing a bright green uniform, her face was pale with heavy makeup, gater liked her ruby red lips.

The nurse looked down at Gater and smiled thinly. She looked to her side and wrote something, she made no eye contact with Janice.
“Mrs. Twister, what can we do for you today?”

The smile disappeared.

“It’s my son, Gater,”

“It’s been a while since you last logged in with us, you know that the government requires,”

”We’ve been terribly busy,” It was Janice’s’ turn to interrupt, “and healthy.” She added quickly.

The nurse stared emptily, tapping a pen somewhere.

“It’s my Son Gater.” She repeated.

“Place his hand on the scan vent.”

“Go on Gater, do like the nurse says.”

Gater stood up and pushed his palm into the glowing vent.

He looked up at the nurse, she was staring at him, those lips.

“Okay, please wait.”

The screen went blank, then a green cross appeared on a white background, then static, then a vid of summer meadows with matching music, then back to static, then a young man appeared, he wore heavy green doctors robes, and wore thick round glasses.

“Okay Mrs. Twister, what seems to be the problem.” Pushing his glasses up onto his nose he looked down at something.

Janice recounted the previous evening’s events.

“I see.” The Doctor looked down at Gater. “If you would er, Mrs. Twister, just give me one moment.”

The screen went static for one second, then back to meadows.

Janice felt her sleeve being tugged. She snapped her eyes from the screen and looked down at her son. “What did he mean Mum?”

“I don’t know Gater, he just has to diagnose and sort the meds, that kind of thing.”

Gater shook his head, “Not that, what he said.”

Janice looked puzzled, “What do you mean?”

The screen cracked back to the young doctor, Janice thought he looked even more tense than before.

“Well, Mrs. Twister, it appears that you have nothing to worry about, call it modern stress related expressiveness, er, anyway I’ve prescribed meds for Gater, and well, for you and your husband..”

“But we don’t..” The Doctor cut her off.

“Now now Mrs. Twister, to help deal with the stress, it’s, it’s hard,” he pushed his glasses up and shook his head slightly, “it’s hard in these times to raise a child, especially in a hab.” He looked directly at Janice. “Trust me Mrs. Twister, I have only your best interests at heart.”

Static.

On the tube ride home Janice asked Gater what he had heard the Doctor say.
“We’ve got one.” He answered.

Frankie was waiting for them at the hab door, and as unusual as that was Janice did something unusual too, she embraced her Husband.

All three entered the Hab.

NEWS REPORTS STATED THAT INTENSE FIRE HAD RIPPED THROUGH THE HAB UNIT. ALL THREE OCCUPANTS DEAD, BURNT BEYOND ANY RECOGNITION.

Mrs. Sabine stood on the walkway outside of her Hab. She watched the fire crews deal with clean up. Tendrils of smoke still escaped the charred Hab.
She watched as two body bags were carried out, something overcame her. She approached an officer and said outright,
“What about the boy?”

The officer glared back at her, his face stern, “What boy?”

Mrs. Sabine said nothing, she looked at the smoking entrance to the Twisters hab. The officer she had spoken to began talking to into a link.
She backed up then turned and hurried to her door, unlock, push yourself in, hope you didn’t hear that officer mention your hab number.

END

JOHN E. STERLING.