Part of Naomi was moved by his flattery, but on the other hand, she knew this man represented everything she was fighting against. “So what are the other levels?” she asked again.
“Let me show you,” the scientist said. He walked to a computer that was attached to the wall between two of the booths. He put on his glasses and began punching keys on the keyboard. Green letters appeared on a black screen:
COMMAND:
The scientist pecked the keyboard again:
DEFINE>PASTE 1
The screen jumped from the bottom to the top. A very simple picture of a building appeared on the screen. Over the building was written PASTERY. Next to the building was a simple picture of a person. PHASE 1 PATIENT was written under the person.
The scientist pointed to the Pastery. He said, “Pastification: Level One. The patient purchases over-the-counter treatments directly from the retail outlet.”
He pressed the keyboard and the screen jumped.
A picture of a person’s face replaced the factory. Over the person’s face were the words PHASE 1 PATIENT. The scientist hit a key and a loaf of paste appeared next to the face with the word PASTE over it. There was a flashing arrow pointed from the paste to the person’s mouth.
The scientist continued, “Level One, Stage One. The patient ingests the treatment. Patient experiences a low mood, loss of interest or pleasure in activities, and has feelings of worthlessness, guilt, regret, or hopelessness. Other symptoms include poor concentration and memory, withdrawal from social situations and activities, and desire to stay indoors.”
Naomi said, “This is just eating paste. Everybody eats paste.”
“It is a very popular treatment,” said the scientist. He punched a key on the keyboard and the screen jumped again.
The screen showed a person sitting in front of a TV. The words PHASE 1 PATIENT appeared over the person, and over the TV appeared the words PROGRAMMING DEVICE. A flashing arrow pointed from the TV to the person’s eyes.
The scientist continued, “Level One, Stage Two. The patient continues treatment in the home. Treatment is characterized by significant weight gain or increased appetite, excessive sleep, a sensation of heaviness in the limbs, and significant social impairment.”
Sammy interjected, “That’s sick. Paste is making people dumb and sad.”
“Some treatments are painful,” said the scientist. “It can’t be helped.”
The scientist pushed a key. The screen said:
COMMAND:
He pecked out the words:
DEFINE>PASTE 2
The screen jumped.
A picture of a white person appeared on screen with words PHASE 2 PATIENT written over it. Next to the person was a picture of a pair of glasses with a tube coming out of them.
“That’s the feeding tube,” Naomi said.
“Correct,” said the Scientist. “You remember this part. Level Two is a more aggressive treatment, used on patients who show special susceptibly to paste. I should hope you’ve remembered this part. Otherwise you would waste away to nothing.”
He pressed a key.
The screen jumped, showing a close-up of the paste tube and glasses. He said, “The tube is inserted into the patient’s mouth for treatment. It administers a constant measured dosage to the patient. Screens attached to the eyes project directly through the retina and are absorbed by the cerebral cortex, making the patient more susceptible to treatment. Level Two treatment consists of three doses a day. Treatment sessions are referred to as ‘Breakpaste, Plunch, and Dinner.’”
He continued, “Level Two is a preventative treatment that keeps paste levels high.”
“Where do all the people come from?” Sammy asked.
The scientist blinked his swollen eyes at Sammy as though he was trying to understand the question. After a moment Naomi said, “The ‘patients.’ Where do you get the patients?”
“Everyone is undergoing treatment,” said the scientist.
As ridiculous as it sounded, Naomi knew what he meant, so she clarified. She pointed at a booth. “These patients,” she said. “Where did you get these patients?”
“Oh,” said the scientist. “These patients are from a very specific treatment group. They are patients with a high predisposition for Pastification: limited education, dependence on superstitious ideology, high rate of reproduction, limited capital resources, propensity to digest and be persuaded by images, low self-esteem due to poor body image, and feelings of being disenfranchised within the framework of the larger culture. Symptoms include, but are not limited to, irrational aggressive behavior, especially when in the company of other agitated patients.”
“Where do they come from?” Naomi asked.
“Unknown,” said the scientist. “Research study advertisements, I suppose. They appear in the laboratory.”
Naomi looked at Sammy. Sammy looked back with a face that could only mean, “holy cow.”
“These pods constitute Level Three Pastification,” the scientist said, swinging his arm to take in the booths lining the room. “Level Three is the initialization for special category patients. It is very similar to Level Two, but the treatment is longer. Treatment times vary from a week to ten days. Patients receive a higher concentration and are subjected to large persuasion screens.”
“Ten days . . .” Naomi said.
“No wonder they’re zombies,” said Sammy.
“What gives you the right to do this?” she said.
“Ah,” he said. “You are a curious one. Let’s move to Level Four. Level Four is used on patients, like yourselves, who are resistant to Pastification Levels Two and Three.” He blinked his big eyes at Naomi, then checked his watch. “This way,” he said. “It is almost time.”
He led them the rest of the way through the darkened room. Naomi looked at the white people who were getting their stomachs filled and their brains fried. Her heart went out to them.
The scientist brought them to a door marked “Pastification: Level Four.”
“We are entering a high security area,” he said. “Those without proper clearance will be unable to exit. Unlike Levels One, Two and Three, Level Four is a fully immersive treatment, lasting a full 14 days.”
The scientist touched another fingerprint reader. The door swooshed open and the scientist stepped in. Naomi and Sammy followed into a room about fifty feet long and twenty feet wide. About thirty white people were waiting inside the room.
“They’re different,” Naomi said. These people were not like the ones they had seen before. Some were skinny, some short, some tall. Some had long hair and some had no hair at all. Some had skin in tones of tan, others’ were brown and black. Some were obviously men and others, women.
“They look kind of normal,” Naomi said.
The white people started doing something Naomi had not seen white people do before. They spoke.
“Lovely weather we are having,” said one woman.
“I like your shoes,” said one man to another.
“Did you see that paste?” asked a man.
“La la la la la,” sung one of the women.
“We are in the antechamber of the Level 4 Pastification room,” the scientist said. A heavy metal door with thick hinges hung on one of the long walls. Next to the door there was a computer sticking from the wall. The scientist walked to the computer and pecked at the keyboard.
Sammy whispered, “This isn’t good. How the heck are we going to get out of here?”
“I’m taking suggestions,” she said.
The scientist said, “Seems there was a power failure in Sector 11. Malfunction in Equine Turbine 25. Possibly caused by two intruders.”
Naomi and Sammy stiffened.
“We’re going to have to speed this up,” said the scientist. “I’ll have to inspect the malfunction and monitor the security video. This is coming down directly from the CEO.”
“Uh,” Sammy said, “Maybe we should wait on this Pastification thing. We’
ll just, you know…”
“Pastification Level Four activating,” the scientist said. The metal door opened.
“What are we going to do?” said Sammy.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“We got to get out of here,” Sammy said. He turned to the door behind him that lead back to the lab. He put his thumb on the fingerprint scanner. It scanned his finger and then a blue spark shot from it.
“Yeow!” he shouted, and fell. The mop slid from his head and flopped next to him on the floor.
“You don’t want to touch that,” the scientist said.
Naomi got down on her knees. “You okay?”
Sammy rubbed his hand. “It shocked me,” he said.
“Can you stand?” she said.
“Yeah.”
She pulled him up. She let go and he wobbled. She grabbed him again. “You sure you’re okay?”
He said, “What we going to do?”
The scientist punched some keys. ”Everybody inside,” he said. The people who were waiting in the room walked through the door and into the chamber.
The scientist said to Naomi and Sammy, “Follow the others. Treatment begins soon.” He looked at his watch. “Hurry up.”
Naomi shuffled forward. She looked for something that might offer escape. Sammy moved behind her.
“What are we going to do?” he whispered.
Naomi said, “I am feeling much more pasty now. I think maybe I don’t need Pastification.”
“Nonsense,” the scientist said. “You are manifesting obvious symptoms of paste deficiency.”
“Um, er,” said Sammy. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow. He seemed to be freaking out, and Naomi didn’t think he was going to help much. What else could she say?
“We don’t need Pastification!” she shouted.
“You most certainly do,” said the scientist.
“Um, er, er,” said Sammy. Naomi thought he was going to lose it. She had to do something. If they went in the pastification chamber she knew she had no chance of finding the horses. She would probably never see her mom again.
“We’re the intruders!” she screamed.
The scientist looked them up and down. Sammy turned towards her, an expression of wonder on his face.
“Impossible,” said the scientist. “You are obviously too pasty to be the intruders though your statement does show imagination unbecoming a patient.”
“Really. We… we are the intruders,” said Sammy. “I dropped a loaf of paste into the turbine.”
“Hurry up,” said the scientist, pointing toward the Pastification room. He punched a bunch of keys in rapid succession. Electricity shot from the floor beneath Naomi and Sammy in a blue arc, shocking their feet.
“No!” shouted Sammy. He shivered, and sweat dripped from his face. “Don’t shock us!”
Another arc fired under them and they stumbled toward the chamber.
The scientist said, “Many have undergone the procedure. There is nothing to fear. You may think you are special and do not need it, but you do. It will cure your curiosity and rid you of your desire. Trust me, you will be better off afterwards.”
Then another arc erupted from the floor, this much stronger than the first two. A blue flash blinded Naomi. Pain washed over her like jumping in icy water and the air went out of her lungs. Spots jumped in her eyes, her limbs froze with chilly pain. She couldn’t breathe. “Sam…” she said, and the world went black.