Silenced Information

HannahK281: hey

Rferrit93: hey

Rferrit93: whatsup

HannahK281: nothing you

Rferrit93: nm

HannahK281: sry but how do i know you? :/

Rferrit93: Im camerons friend

HannahK281: so you go to school with him?

Rferrit93: ya

Rferrit93: he gave me your sn

Rferrit93: he said you were cool

HannahK281: that was nice of him

Rferrit93: so where do ya go 2 skool

HannahK281: St. Michael’s. you?

Rferrit93: mc academy

HannahK281: wheres that?

Rferrit93: corner of riddick and nickel

HannahK281: cool. What grade?

Rferrit93: 7

HannahK281: awesome

Rferrit93: what about you

HannahK281: 8

Rferrit93: cool

HannahK281: ya it’s hard work

Rferrit93: thats what ive heard

HannahK281: i get pretty stressed

Rferrit93: how do you deal with it

HannahK281: mostly with boys’ help…

Rferrit93: help?

HannahK281: ya.

Rferrit93: what type of help?

HannahK281: want to find out?

Rferrit93: ya

HannahK281: meet me at Riley Park.

Rferrit93: wheres that

HannahK281: two blocks east and a block south from your school

Rferrit93: how do you know

HannahK281: MapQuest

Rferrit93: cool

HannahK281: see you soon ;)

There’s some fog. Thick. White. Morning fog. And as he sits on the bench, he hears kids screaming on the playground but can’t see them.

Suddenly a sick feeling arises from deep in his gut. His instincts tell him to leave. He assures himself that he’s just nervous—he’s never gone farther than kissing. He takes out his phone to calm down.

He hadn’t responded when his friend texted him whats up earlier.

He does now—waiting for a girl at the park.

His friend’s response is quick. what girl

Hannah the girl that sent cameron the pictures

cool

He pockets the phone. Walks to a swing. Sits.

There’s a chilled breeze and he rubs at his forearms. It doesn’t help so he swings his legs—back and forth, back and forth—gaining momentum. The breeze hits him harder but he keeps pumping

Back and forth.

He’s feeling warmer. Soon, he’s pushing the swing as high as it can go, beginning to fall at the peak when the chain goes slack—he likes the sensation so he uses all his strength to thrust his legs

Back and forth.

He looks down toward the bench when he reaches that high point, just before he falls—there’s someone else there now. He pushes his legs behind him

Back.

Then thrusts forward with all his might

And forth.

Reagan jumps.

HannahK281 leaves the house and begins to walk. It’s cool and foggy and HannahK281 feels a shiver and goose bumps. It’s not the cold that makes HannahK281 shiver—it’s the anticipation. And with every step, the anticipation grows.

Disappointment—she’s not here yet—Reagan finds a man sitting on the bench. He has on thick, black sunglasses. Reagan assumes he’s blind.

The man’s voice rips through the fog. “Who’s there?”

Reagan doesn’t respond.

The man’s voice is accusing. “Who’s there?”

“Reagan.”

“Can you help me kid?”

“With what?”

“I lost my car keys last night somewhere around here when I was throwing a ball for my dog”

“Where’d you last see them?”

“In my pocket.”

“How’d you lose them?”

“I had a hole that I didn’t know about.”

“Where were you?”

“Somewhere around this park.”

“That’s not real helpful.” Pause. “It’s a big park.”

“Let’s try.”

Reagan tells the man okay ‘cause he has some time to kill while he waits for Hannah.

The man gets up and begins walking so Reagan follows. He turns back to Reagan. “You have to be my eyes.” The man smiles a toothy grin. “I’m trusting you.”

They walk in silence for a while, scanning the ground for anything metallic.

After the two have picked up at least twenty-four gum rappers, the man says he’s tired and the boy leads him to a bench to sit.

The man breaks the silence after a while. “Reagan, where do you live?”

The boy tells him about his small home and his siblings, about how his parents fight a lot. The man sits, and listens.

When the man suddenly coughs, the boy stops talking and they sit for a moment. Then the man says, “You must find something beyond yourself to bring you happiness.”

The boy asks him what was beyond himself.

The man says, “school and girls.”

The boy tells him about how his friends are different now, how “everyone used to get along but now things are changing. All of my friends are kinda jerks. I don’t really like them much anymore.”

The man looks down at him. “Sorry kid.”

They sit. Then the man says, “Everything moved so much slower back when I was a kid. My parents and I always ate at the table. There wasn’t anything like the Internet back then. It was harder to be connected to the world constantly. So, we all had our own worlds and it was much better that way.”

The boy sits listening. The man speaks as if he had practiced in the mirror earlier. His face is flushed; he seems like he’s getting overexcited.

“The world is so separated now.” The man says. “Everyone has something to say and won’t even listen to others. Real connection’s lost but everyone considers themselves connected. Technology’s the real enemy.”

The boy stops listening to the rant for a moment, escaping into his own thoughts. He hadn’t forgotten about the girl.

“what type of help?

want to find out?”

The boy realizes the man is still talking.

The boy and the man stand up to start searching again. After walking for a bit, they get to a thick cluster of trees. The man says that he remembers sitting here and throwing the ball for his dog.

“My dog ran into the woods after a squirrel. Can you slip in there and see if the keys got kicked into the underbrush.”

The boy did as the man asked. After working his way a couple of feet into the thick brush, he starts searching the ground for anything shiny. It doesn’t take long for the boy to get discouraged so he decides to take a break.

The boy sits for a bit. He notices the fog is beginning to lift and he can see a little farther than earlier. The boy sits listening to the leaves of the trees rustle with each light gust of wind. Luckily, the chill has disappeared.

"You find anything?” The man yelled.

“Not yet. I’m taking a quick sit down.”

The boy’s phone vibrates.

It’s Cameron:

you know that girl that sent me pictures. i think it’s a fake person. just thought you should know

Reagan hears the man’s voice travel through the trees. “Have you found my keys yet?”

HannahK281 waits for a response from the boy.

HannahK281 yells again, “have you found my keys?”

HannahK281 starts to feel impatient. He takes off his glasses to search the treeline.

Reagan peaks through the forest. He sees the man. The thick, black glasses are off—he’s staring at the boy—he isn’t blind. That’s all the evidence Reagan needs.

The man hears a twig break right in front of him and throws himself into the woods.

Reagan is sneaking though the thick trees, attempting to find a way to the other side. He hears a rustle. When he turns around, the man is running toward him.

The man sees the boy crouching. The boy only has thirty yards to go before he reaches a house. The boy turns back and the man lunges toward him. The boy turns toward what he thinks is the fastest way out. He sprints for it.

Reagan can see that the man is gaining on him. He tries to run faster but the man has a longer stride. Reagan darts left. Right. Branches slice at his exposed legs and arms. He grinds his jaw in pain. He can sense the ground he’s losing, how close the man is. Then Reagan hears the man’s raspy breath. The trees grow thicker. Ten more yards. He’ll be safe. Ten more yards. Branches rip at his shins. Ten more yards. The man’s breaths grow louder. Ten more yards. Reagan isn’t breathing. Fear overpowers him then fresh adrenaline rushes into his system. He runs all out.

The man knows that he is running out of time. He’s desperate. He reaches out to the boy but only finds air. He whips the keys from his pocket and thrusts them towards the boy’s head.

Reagan feels something slam into him. Blackness bites at his vision. He falls.

The boy wakes up. Blood cakes his shirt. He can’t move. When he looks down, an orange extension cord has him wrapped to a tree. He’s gagged. The man is staring at him.

The boy kicks out his legs. He shakes his entire body. The cord only tightens around him, cuts into his arms.

“That’s not going to work.”

He tries screaming but the only thing that comes out is a muffled whimper.

“Give up.”

The boy peers up and sees the man is sitting on a metal box—it’s a power generator. The man gets up and walks toward the boy. He crouches and is at eye level. “I’m going to transform you now. By the end of this, technology will no longer define you.”

The man takes the boy’s phone from his pocket. “Remember this?” He wiggles the phone in front of the boy’s nose. “This is evil. I will teach you.” The man places the phone on the boy’s lap. “Alright kid. Here we go.” The man slips behind the boy and unties one of his hands.

“Are you ready?”

Once the boy’s hand is free, he desperately grabs for the phone. The man flips a switch on the generator. Electricity thrashes through the boy. He tries to scream but the gag silences him. The man turns away as the boy spasms uncontrollably. Pain blinds the boy and he clenches the phone in his hand. The sides dig into his palm and he begins to bleed. The man flips the switch. He walks toward the boy and takes the phone from his clenched fist. The phone is dead.

This time when Reagan wakes up, he is laid over a dead log, his stomach has been rubbed raw, he doesn’t have pants on, orange extension cord ties his arms and legs. He can’t move. He feels dizzy and weak and sleep overpowers him.

It’s dark when he reenters consciousness. There is a computer in front of him spilling florescent light across the forest floor. He reaches out his arm and grazes the smooth keyboard with his fingertips. He tries to bring it closer to find help and a deep pain shoots through his body. Reagan can feel the man’s hips behind him.

“This is for your own good. I hate doing this. But I have to.”

The man moves his hips back.

“The Age of Information has silenced your generation and I just won’t have it.”

He slams his hips forward. Blood runs down Reagan’s thigh. He tries to scream. Silence.

“I’m a revolutionary.”

The man moves his hips back.

“And in the face of the Internet, revolution is dead.”

And forth.

“The soapbox fell to YouTube; shared inspiration fell to Twitter; introspection fell to FaceBook.”

Back and forth.

“I’m giving you real connection.”

Back and forth.

The computer screen flashes.

“I am helping you.”

Back.

“I am saving you.”

And forth.

The screen goes dark.