The Light Must Go Out

by Sandy S.

May 21, 1995

She stepped onto the street, boots clumping dully on the cracked, scarred concrete. A month ago she would have marveled at the gentle wind that caressed her cheek and blew her dress so that the folds found and molded to her curves. A month ago she would have tossed back her long hair, granting it life as she laughed up at the moon's loneliness in a sky full of distant stars. A month ago she would have danced down the sidewalk, shining the bright sun of her smile on all who were lucky enough to cross her path.

Tonight. Tonight she found no joy in any of nature's gifts. She had a job to do. No foolishness must distract her. There was a hardness to her face. No one would have guessed a smile used to grace the stone of her carefully composed mask. No gentle waves could soften its impact. A functional haircut provided the least distraction. A black jumpsuit and boots were less worry than a long skirt that might get tangled on her legs or snagged on any of the myriad of objects in the streets.

She walked with long strides and with such an air of determination that most people on the crowded street discreetly avoided her gaze if they could not simply move away from her oncoming form. Their laughter touched her tears but she did not hear it. She saw their happiness, but she did not think about them. She was looking for someone, and she knew that person was not among this group.

The chattering people sounds faded, and she knew she was drawing close to her destination. She crunched across the broken glass of a smashed street lamp, overwhelming the authority of the shadows that now pervaded the neighborhood. A breeze stirred up the litter, which flew around her legs, warning her to turn and walk the other way. She stomped out the message with a swift motion, eradicating herself from the interruption. A silence followed that left her moving alone for several minutes.

Urgent whispers arose out of the dark, and she paused, scanning the doorways and crevices that might hide who she sought. Her eyes met two pairs of shining white orbs, glaring out at her from the now quiet veil of night. As she studied them, their eyes widened. They knew there was nothing they could do until she finished analyzing their profiles. Both prayed that they were not the one she was after tonight.

She could hear their heart rates accelerate and could feel their bodies screaming at them to run, but she knew they could not. They had to stay where they were or meet death. Many had run before, and they were terminated before they made it halfway down the street. The word was out now, and if someone was singled out for analysis, he or she had to stand and hope for her to move on.

The familiar click sounded in her mind, and the results of the review filtered into her consciousness.

"Thomas, Robert Michael. Elementary school physical education teacher. Married. One daughter. Known drug pusher." He was the tall one with the paper bag that rustled in his left hand.

"Parker, Sean Joseph. Mechanic. Divorced. No children. Stole two cars in 1992." He was the shorter, overweight one with the envelope crushed in a fist, trying to hide behind Thomas.

Wrong match. She was after someone else tonight. She turned away abruptly, walking another direction. She noted their footsteps pounding the cement rapidly, disappearing into the back of her mind.

Movement stimulated the rods in the corner of her right eye, and she followed the body that glided around the corner and into the narrow passageway between buildings. The wraith-like form entered a side door of the tallest building. She came softly behind, deftly avoiding the crates and smashed, rotting cardboard boxes lying around the peeling door. She turned the greasy knob slowly and stepped into the tall building.

The sour smell of filth caused her nostrils to flare, and her eyes widened in the dimmer luminescence. A draft pressed into her face, making the line of her lips harder. A door swung above, clattering against the frame and spraying misty waves of light to shatter the darkness with each fanning arc. She moved so swiftly and silently that she appeared to be floating, and she caught the door handle with a firm hand to prove herself cohesive. She went into the light.

* * *

He knew they knew what he had done. He had stabbed a man for his wallet. He had felt perfectly justified in killing the man at the time. He had politely asked the man for some money...not much, just his pocket change. He had explained to the man that the lives of his son and wife were at stake. If he did not buy food for them, they would die of starvation. But the man had not been generous with something with which he could have managed to part. Instead, the man had ignored his attempts to beg for help and kept walking without a glance back.

That made him angry. How could the man possibly refuse to notice him...he who was sacrificing his pride to save his family? Did the man know how hard it was to have to beg to feed his family...to let everyone see that he could not provide for the people he loved? His temper had exploded, and he had dragged the man with the threat of a knife into the darkest alley. When the man had still refused him...refused to be moved by his impassioned speech, he had killed him, stabbing him over and over until the breathing of that unfeeling man had ceased.

Trembling, he had taken the man's wallet, throwing away the credit cards and identification. He had gotten rid of his bloodstained shirt and knife and come home. He had seen her outside, examining the two men, and he knew she was looking for him. She was coming, and he had to get his family out now.

* * *

She heard a tiny female voice as she entered the room. "Charlie, what are you doing? Why are we leaving? Has something happened?"

A bare bulb illuminated the small room, revealing cracked walls bordered by brown, curving water stains. The furniture consisted of a bare mattress that sank in the middle and an old chest of drawers with a long fissure down the side. A small-boned, skinny woman with dark coloring and long dishwater brown hair stood in disbelief and frustration, watching her husband, Charlie, frantically load a ratty suitcase with faded clothing.

"Nothing's happened. We're just going to move to a better place," he reassured his wife, trying to hide the panic in his voice as he zipped up the suitcase. "Is it wrong to want to give my family something better?"

"No, but...."

"Good. Let's go. Where's Anthony?" He grabbed the suitcase and his wife's reluctant hand. "Anthony! Come here!" he called, turning to the door.
He froze when he saw her.

His wife moved behind him in fear. The hand he had held went to her mouth. "Charlie. What have you done?"

She heard his heart rate accelerate and saw the fear in his eyes and the sweat on his face. Something clicked in her mind.

"Edwards, Charles Allen."

"Oh, dear God, Charlie! How could you?"

"Please don't hurt me. What will my family do?"

"Unemployed. Married. One son."

"I have a little boy....pleasse."

"Murdered...." "Charrlllie!!!"

"Have a heart...have you ever been a mother?"

"...one man...tonight."

That was it. This was the man. She drew the small gun from her pocket.

"Ready...aim...FIRE!" the voice cried in her head.

She pulled the trigger hard as she watched the woman stumble backward, her face contorted in horror. A small form ran out from the shadows as the bullet exploded from the barrel.

"Daaaddiiie!!!"

The bullet met flesh, and the tiny form collapsed to the ground and did not move.

Charlie ran forward to the boy, crying his name. "How could you? You...you bitch!" He glared at her in absolute rage, his face scarlet. He rose to his feet, his son's blood on his hands and bare chest.

She was confused. What had happened? What should she do now? Then, the voice came again.

"Ready...aim...FIRE!"

She pulled the trigger again and watched the bullet enter his brain, leaving a neat, round red-rimmed hole in the center of his forehead. His body hung suspended for a moment before it crumpled to the floor beside the tiny boy.

Her job was finished. She turned to go, but she heard a faint sound that made her turn around again.

The woman was crying, hunched over the still forms of her husband and son. The wife and mother of the deceased looked up with red, tear-filled eyes.

"Why? What did we do to you? How could you do this to me? I understand if Charlie did something really bad but to take my son, too? Are you inhuman? My God, you've left me with nothing...nnothiing." Her head bowed in her grief.

Though her voice was soft, the woman's words were strong. Something clicked inside her mind, and despite all her training to keep control, she fled the building to the street again, leaving the woman alone with her family.

She stumbled back toward the place in the light where she had come from. Several people were still standing around talking and laughing. They did not even notice her. Couples, friends, laughing, dancing, smiling. The impact of it all made her dizzy, and she had to sit on the curb a moment. She stared into space, her memories coming through the block they had placed in her mind.

She had lost everything once like that woman with her dead Charlie and Anthony. She had fallen in love but lost her family. Then, she lost her love, but her family would still not take her back. Her world fell apart. She had nowhere to go...until she heard about them. They were conducting an experiment for the police department. It was strictly voluntary, and since she had nothing to lose, she had decided to volunteer.

They suppressed a person's memories, gave him or her extensive training, and planted a device in the mind of each one. The device allowed them to track the trainees as they did their assigned tasks. The task was conveyed via the device in the mind, including where to go, whom to look for, and what to do once the person was found. The device allowed the police to see whom the volunteers were seeing and to match the faces to their records. Most people they sought were criminals and were terminated.

Killing the little boy had brought back all these memories....the laughter....now she could not bear to....the love....be herself....the pain....what good was she....the fear....when she was so evil....the light....must go out....
She put the gun to her temple, the round circle like lover's lips on her skin kissing her good night. With one click, she put the lights out forever and fell into the black abyss....She had regained her humanity.

* * *

Somewhere on the other side of town, a police officer turned to his fellow law enforcer and said between mouthfuls of donut, "Well, Walker, looks like we lost number fifty four. Her light just went out."

"Really? Damn. What happened?" He groaned as he stood up to peer over his friend's shoulder.

"I think she killed herself." He put the sweet roll down. "What do you think made her pull a stunt like that?"

"It doesn't matter. She's the only one we've lost. The experiment's a success. The crime rate is way down. She must have had a pretty sorry life to volunteer anyway."

THE END