I couldn’t wake up this morning. I was having this dream you see, I was in this Village, and this man, Number 2 they call him, he was asking me all kinds of questions, questions I couldn’t answer. I wasn’t holding out, or being brave or anything like that, I just didn’t know the answers to the questions.
Anyway in time they let me go, well when I say they let me go, the doctor let me leave the hospital, and I was given a free ride to what they called my “home from home,” which was in fact a replica of the study of my home, the bedroom and bathroom. The rest of my cottage I didn’t recognise at all!
I remember they gave me new clothes, I asked what had happened to my old ones, they just said they’d been burnt! In my new suit of clothes I looked more set for Henley boating regatta, or some holiday resort. Which is strange, because there were those people in the Village, that’s what they called this place, the Village, who went about dressed in piped blazers. They made me think of my days at school, or of the Red Coats at Butlin’s. But these wear piped blazers., and not all of them are helpful.
Anyway they left me alone for a bit, so that I could adjust to my new surroundings, which were not so bad when you consider most places in the world. I mean you can get used to any situation, any environment, given time. And people have you know, existing in the most appalling places, enduring the most horrid of conditions Nazi concentration camps, Russian gulags, Vietnam Prisoner of war camps, the Cambodian killing fields, terrible places that make the Village almost civilised!
It wasn’t easy to make friends, everyone was suspicious of everyone else. Surveillance was everywhere, and you were watched by Observers who heard and saw everything, which I thought was rather clever. And the thing was, you didn’t know who was who, as everyone in this Village is dressed the same, Prisoners and warders alike, it made it difficult for you to know who to trust.
There’s this chap, Number Six they call him. He’s always watching, waiting, walking, a very active citizen of the Village. I remember he asked me if he could trust me, I asked him if I could trust him? He didn’t seem to like that somehow. He wanted me to me a member of his gang, said that we’d talk later, at the time of moon set! It was all set you see, we were going to escape, Number 6 had seen to it all. There was Number 19 the Shopkeeper, 42 a painter, the Rook, and one or two others whom Number 6 said he could rely upon. We attacked the searchlight crew in the tower. Took over the Green Dome, tied Number 2’s hands, while Number 6 went off to check why the radio signal had stopped. Then just as the escape plan was coming to a climax, the Rook went and spoilt it, by suggesting to the rest of us, that judging by Number 6’s authorative attitude, he must be one of them, a Guardian! So we untied Number 2‘s hands and set him free. And that was that, the escape failed, all because of the Rook’s suspicions of Number 6, which were actually misguided and utterly wrong! We were told that we’d all be put back on the chessboard tomorrow. Funny thing was though, I never did see the Shopkeeper Number 19 again. There was this weasel type character, Number 12, running the General Store after that.
I never tried to escape after that experience. I settled down, joined in, became part of the community. Life there wasn’t too bad. I lived in a comfortable house, although the front door was locked each evening at curfew. Sometimes we were allowed out in the evenings, to go to the Cat & Mouse night club, but you couldn’t get drunk, they sold non-alcoholic drinks you see. Gin, whisky, vodka that looked the same, tasted the same, but without any alcoholic content.
Each day my personal maid would come and clean my house, make the bed and the like, flick a duster about the place, you know the kind of thing. Then in the evening another personal maid would come and make me my nightly nightcap of hot chocolate just before curfew. I wondered if she did that for everyone, or whether everyone had their own personal maid to make them their nightcap? But then that would be silly I thought. Because if everyone had their own personal maid to make them their nightcap, then half the citizens in the Village would have to have, or be a personal maid. And then who would make their nightcaps for them? The personal maids I mean. It just wasn’t possible, unless there were but a handful of personal maids in the Village for everyone. If that was the case, they would have to start making nightcaps for people pretty early on in the evening, to make sure they were all done before curfew!…………….I remember I was just pondering this further, when I suddenly woke up. I thought I was at home, I was here………..in the Village. It wasn’t a dream at all!
Be seeing you
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