Veracity by Mark Lavorato Read Free Book Online Page A

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    He walked to one of the other metal doors in the room and began to tug on it. It had the same ridiculous width as the one at the entrance, and opened to another corridor, which seemed to be lit with natural light. I realized that this might have something to do with the rectangular depression I'd seen missing from the hill. "We have a room for you to stay in while you do this. It has food in it and opens up into a garden." I raised my eyebrows. Did he say a garden? "Well, not really a garden... it was designed to be a kind of laboratory to test the air outside of this shelter (again, for reasons you wouldn't really understand right now), and we've just let things grow wild inside of that space. There are also a few writing materials for you to organize or express your thoughts, if you find that helps you in any way."
    I could already see the small bed from where I was sitting, and I stood and began walking toward it, my steps vacant, clumsy. I passed by Harek without looking at him and continued toward the bed, and maybe it was seeing how dejected I was walking, which made him stop me once more.
    "I know that this must all seem so incredibly depressing, but you should bear in mind that we haven't brought you to this place to sadden you; there's obviously a greater intention here. And believe me, you will soon see that there is nothing to be miserable about at all. In fact, quite the contrary."
    "What do you mean?" I asked.
    "Well, as I said, we won't get into it now, but... but what if I told you there was a way to restore what we've ruined? What if I told you that we've figured out a way to mend the damage we've caused?" Harek broke off and grinned at the floor for a moment. "There was a time in my life when a man asked me that very same question; and then he wanted to know if I might be interested in learning more." He looked up again, "Are you interested in learning more?" I nodded drunkenly, and Harek smiled at this. "I'm happy to hear that. Because so was I."
    We looked at each other in silence for a few seconds. "Well then... someone else will come to see you early tomorrow morning." He reached out and started to heave the door in an effort to close it, and looked at me just as it began to move. "I'm sorry for the noise this will make, but there's no other way to close it." He gave a feeble grin as the metal swung between us and crashed into its frame.
    I collapsed onto the bed, somehow exhausted.
    So this was the great secret that I'd been searching for all of my life? This was what I had longed for, the covert glances of my childhood decoded? That we were a 'thing' in nature that went horribly and catastrophically wrong? Monsters?
    No. This was all impossible, unthinkable.
    Though, didn't that ring of denial, that 'stage' I was supposed to be in?
    But if... I could rise above it...
    I stopped to think about what monsters were for a moment. When I was a child, I used to look out into the shadows of the underbrush, the lantern light cutting out a cavern of perceived safety, the darkness pressing against its fringes. I was always afraid that some horrible creature might come along and break that sacred border, risk walking boldly into the light, only with the intent of hurting me. Later, I had convinced myself that such a creature was a figment of my imagination, that there was no such thing as monsters. But suddenly, I was forced to ask an intimidating question about that rationale: Could I picture a man walking into that same light? Could I picture him carrying a weapon and approaching me? Could I picture him coming for no other reason than to harm? And if so, wasn't I a man just like him?
    As the night fell, I kept looking into the garden, feeling as afraid as I had been as a boy. I could almost see them, a handful of nondescript men, stepping out of the shadows, closing in around me, raising their clubs and sticks, their knives and spears - their pins that they'd stolen from clothing class.
    Who knew?