The Aquarium

The Aquarium

Somehow the world had changed.

I mean, I say somehow, but a lot of people saw it coming. Unfortunately those people were considered by most, mostly scared stupid people, crazy.

We elected a fascist president, had a global pandemic, became a dictatorship, and had ridiculous laws imposed on us.

And still we lived. We worked, we evolved, we had families, we went to school, we played, we found whatever joy we could in the micro worlds we created for ourselves.

I think the saddest day for me during The Change (that is what they called it)didn't even have to do with what was going on out there. It was the day my mom gave up.

I will never forget what she told me the last time we spoke, that she was awake and aware.

"Lucy", she beckoned.

I sat down next to her and took her hand.

"Forgive me. I am so tired. I can't fight anymore. Please don't cry, it is time. Your time though is just starting. Never give up, never give in, never quit."

She reached up and touched my face and was gone.

I did cry though. As I sat next to her waiting for her to be taken away, the tears would not stop. And then she was gone.

I did not cry when women's rights were taken away. I did not cry when our freedom of speech was stricken from The Constitution. I did not cry when martial law was instituted. I did not cry as I watched dissenters hauled away by our own armed forces. I did not cry when my brother was one.

I retreated into my own little micro micro world. Since women were no longer allowed to have jobs, I created.

I created a clean home for my family of remaining brothers and my dad. I painted, I drew, I wrote, I danced.

Music was severely regulated, that no free speech thing, but I still had all the downloaded music on my phone which was now a brick as cell service was a luxury only for the inner circle. I listed with ear buds so no one passing would hear and report me, and I must've looked a fool to anyone who might see.

It was my joy though. We had to find it where we could.

At night, after work, my family would come home and after dinner they would sit in the den in the basement and listen to the radio. They mostly listened to sports, which now was basically the only safe and approved form of recreation. I knew though, that late at night, they tuned into a rogue station, turned it so low that it couldn't be heard unless you were huddled around the speaker.

I caught them once and they looked at me like they feared I would turn them in. My own family. That happens though, so I suppose I cannot blame them.

I just left the tray of snacks I brought them and went back to my room, wondering what was going to happen in the world.

That was about 2 years ago, and while they didn't invite me to join them, I was trusted. It was strange how most of the population of men had completely reverted back to the whole women-are-weak-must-protect-them-we-are-big-strong-men-they-are-not-smart-enough-to-know thing.

I started to expand my little world a bit by venturing out into downtown. It was just the right size. Big enough to not be bored with the choices, and small enough to not get swallowed up.

I would take my sketch pad with me and sit sometimes and draw the things I saw. I was careful though. If it was thought you were looking at the wrong thing for too long, you could get hauled away. Just like my brother.

I did though. I did look at the wrong thing. I could draw from memory and I would see something, then turn to look at the trees or a building, or flowers, and start two drawings. Since no one was documenting what was happening, no press that was free, I drew.

I drew the sadness on faces, the rebellious flyers posted and redacted. I drew the green stretchy things I saw all over. I drew the tanks rolling down Brand Avenue midday. I drew the decay of society. And I drew beautiful things to hide the reality.

Do not ask me how I was chosen. To this day I still do not know for sure.

I woke up one day and went to the front door to get the joke of a newspaper, and there sat a Golden Retriever. He looked directly at me, smiling, panting, and there was one of those green stretchy things I had been seeing around his neck. He looked to his left to where we had a couple of big potted plants sitting then turned and trotted away.

I was stunned. And I smiled, in what felt like the first time in years. I went over to the plants and found a couple of black envelopes and a little box. I gathered them up carefully obscuring them with the paper, and went right up to my room.

I found a hiding place. I had breakfast to make and chores to do.

Later that morning, after my father and remaining brothers left for work, I went up to my room to fetch the things left by the dog.

I went into the bathroom, it was the only room in the house without windows, and took a look.

One envelope contained stickers which fell out when I slid open the flap. I looked each of them over. They all seemed random, innocent, giving nothing away. I had thing vague memory of having seen them before. Strewn on a sidewalk perhaps? Had there been a black envelope nearby as well?

I flipped on over and recognized it immediately. I remember seeing one on a telephone pole a crying woman was standing next to. There was a drawing in my sketchbook I would find later.

The bigger envelope contained a ticket. It was to the now closed Aquarium. It had a day and time, midday thankfully, and it was the very next day. There was a meeting place, and mention of a boat tour not to be missed.

I couldn't imagine how that could be the case. From what I knew, The Aquarium was now a dingy, dark, cave of flooded water with empty tanks and smashed glass. It DID pique my curiosity.

The very last was the box. It was not very big at all, could be easily hidden, or carried in the mouth of a dog. Inside was a small pair of what looked like binoculars. Well. This WAS intriguing.

I brought them all back to my room and returned them to the hiding place. Then I went downstairs to read in the library as I normally did. It would not do to vary from the routine too much. We were being watched after all. I think.

I grabbed a book off of a shelf, sat in the big chair by the window and pretended to read.

The thoughts rolling through my head were dizzying. Was there actually a rebellion going on? I had always thought that they were paranoid and gathering up those who did not like the new regime, who didn't fall into line. I never thought my brother was involved in anything. It had been a shock when he was hauled away.

On the other hand, this could all simply be a bunch of kids getting together to cut loose. We WERE on a pretty tight leash. School, for the boys, was militant, and girls? Let's just say we were all home taking care of cleaning and cooking "as we were meant for".

Then, the most scary thought of all, it was a trap. A big alluring trap delivered by a sweet pup, with intent of scooping up the rest of my family under false pretenses.

We did have quite a bit of land. And money. Before the banks became government property that is. Thank goodness my dad had always kept a portion at home, hidden so well that it was never found by the troops that searched our house for "contraband" after snatching my brother up.

The changing shadows through the window made me realize how much time had passed as I sat thinking. It was creeping toward late afternoon, and I had things to do before my family came home.

Later that night, as I was getting ready for bed, I thought about the invitation. It was only so many hours away, and tomorrow was Saturday. Weekends weren't really a thing anymore, everyone worked 6 days a week. It was supposed to keep the population out of "trouble". If you're working hard, you will be too tired to revolt. Or something like that.

They never came right out and said those things of course, but we could all read between the lines. And since I was a silly girl non-deserving of a proper education, I had the time to hone that skillset. Thanks Fanatical Regime.

I passed the night tossing and woke up in a daze, part fear, part excitement. After I got up I rushed through my morning chores. I showered, got dressed, and grabbed my bag. The little box with the binoculars hidden at the bottom by my sketchbook, pencils, and wallet.

Instead of making a beeline for The Aquarium, I left early and wound my way around town, sat and drew, and wandered some more, trying to make my movements seem random.

When I got there, I was surprised to see that it was a thing. I mean people were lined up to take this tour! There was a something like a podium where a man stood taking payment, sometimes in cash, sometimes in the form of canned food. When it was my turn, I reached in my pocket for the invitation. He accepted it with a wink, and directed me inside.

It was damp and dark inside the tunnel. What was once a place of light and wonder winding under a glass roof that was actually the bottom of the biggest tank I had ever seen, was now aglow with a blue light from unseen sources.

I remembered the one time I came here. It had been before my mom died, before the fat dictator and his ignorant minions overthrew the government. It was when things were still beautiful. And when there was hope.

The tank above at that time, had filtered sunlight coming through, lighting all the fish swimming above. I had been fascinated and delighted by it, a big window looking into the water world. I still cherish the memory of that day, before the world, my world, broke apart. And now we were the fish in an aquarium, with the regime watching us through the window.

We all filed onto the boat, which was the same one we had boarded those few years ago. Now, the cushions were gone, the disuse was showing, and colors had faded.

The man came aboard and went to stand at the front. This was a boat that was pulled along on a track beneath the shallow water, so the conductor of the tour could face the people as they were pulled through the tunnel.

On the sides of this manmade cave were what used to be exhibits behind glass, long shattered, that provided the patron with information. Some were about the aquarium itself and how it came to be, some were about the tanks you would see once inside the actual park. Some were about how the fish were cared for, and some introduced us to the caretakers.

Now it appeared to be an art exhibit, with each hollowed out space housing a scene from life, done in a provacative way of course. I found the blue light to be eerie, even more so the way it played with the shadows in each. They appeared to be telling a story, like they had a timeline I could not decipher.

I caught the eye of the conductor, and he put his hands up to his eyes, so briefly I almost thought I was imagining it. I took his meaning though, reached into my bag and removed the binoculars from the box, and ever so slowly, raised them to my face.

The lenses not only removed the blue light, they revealed messages painted on the walls or floors of each exhibit.

There were three words: JOIN THE CAUSE. The rest had pieces of maps that when viewed one after the other revealed a place.

The other passengers were starting to notice me. Thankfully, the binoculars were of a size that would fit nicely, almost unseen in my hands. I quickly made as if I was rubbing my eyes, then sneezed. I was able to put them back in my bag while I "rummaged around" for a tissue.

The old lady sitting next to me handed me one. I smiled, thanked her, and dabbed at my nose with it.

The little tour ended and we were quickly filed around to the exit gate. There was nothing else to see except decay.

I hurried home and started cooking dinner.

That night I could not sleep at all. This time, it was fear, not excitement that was coursing through me.

What could a 17 year old girl do? And why in the world would they invite me? Had the message been meant for my brothers? My father? Should I tell them? Dear freaking god! The questions would not stop, all night long. I laid awake looking for answers that never came.

The next morning when I went out for what now passed as the newspaper, there was that dog again. He still had the green stretchy material around his neck, and there was one in his mouth.

He dropped it, and ran off. I picked it up like it was just trash, then immediately ran up to my room to hide it. When I was folding it up, a small piece of paper fell out.

YOU CAN TRUST US, it read.

I tore it up into tiny bits and flushed it down the toilet.

All day I thought about what to do, and finally, while cooking dinner, made my choice. I would go. Alone. And check it out. If it was for real, I would tell my family. If not, well, I guess maybe I would find out what happened to my brother.

I woke up the next morning resolute.

The map led to a location in the woods, handy, as it used the hiking trails that wound around the neighborhoods. I packed a small backpack with water, sandwich, and at the last minute the green stretchy thing, and headed out.

It didn't take me long to discover the hidden path off of the one of the main trails. There was a large door, almost grown over by weeds and scrub, that could fit a small truck. It must open from the inside as I could not find a handle or lever. I DID find, next to it, with a cleverly woven curtain of ivy over it, a smaller one. This one had a knob.

I hesitated, took out the green stretchy thing, then reached for it.

It opened easily, as if well tended. I stepped inside and closed it, carefully making sure the ivy was in place.

It was dark inside and appeared abandonned. I wished I had though of a flashlight, although that might have been suspicious. No sooner had the thought come than a light went on.

It was on a motion sensor and showed the first few feet of a railed, raised walk next to where apparently the trucks used to come in the bigger door.

When I started to walk, another light came on. Handy. I had no idea how long this tunnel was or where it went. I almost turned back, but I had come this far, I might as well see where it goes.

After about 6 more lights went off, there was another door to the side. This one was locked.

I no sooner tried the knob when a slit opened up and two eyes were peering out at me. I raised the green thing. The slit slammed shut.

A minute or so later, the bolts were thrown, and the door creaked open.

I could not believe my eyes! The man standing there was my brother.

I jumped into his arms crying with joy. We could not stop laughing!

He led me deeper into the room which had more tunnels running off it. We went down one, and into what looked like a library or meeting room.

There were books, chairs, a little kerosene heater, a couple of tables.

We sat down and he filled me in on everything that had happened since he was taken, and how he did not know it was I he was supposed to meet at the door today.

The squad that had snatched him up were some sort of auxilary of the regular forces,volunteers who loved the regime and fancied themselves righters of wrongs. He easily escaped as they had no training besides drinking beer and target practice. He knew he could not go home or it could put the whole family in danger.

He told me the leader was the one who sent the dog to me. That I would soon meet everyone. And also, he was not entirely sure where our dad and brothers stood.

I told him how things changed after he was taken, how they all sat downstairs and late at night listened to forbidden radio. And how scared they were when I caught them doing it. We talked about the movement that was happening, and there was still hope left in the people. They were not beaten down, only appeared to be.

Then he gave me a mission. I was to go back home, and enlist the rest of our family. He said it was no longer safe. That the watchers they had watching who the government watches had focused their attention on us and others. I knew this, but I thought they kept tabs on us because my brother was taken. Apparently, they had honed in on all the families that had money. Not tech, IT, or commerce billionaires, they were actually selling their technology to the regime, but those who had made smaller fortunes. Fortunes that were not fully "recovered" in the post coup cleansing.

We happened to be one of those families, and if all of us banded together, well, it could actually cause some real trouble. The rebels' intel was they were set to hit the homes in the next few weeks. That's why they risked guiding me here.

I left through another door that was also covered with an ivy curtain. I oriented myself, then headed back to the trailhead.

Joy, hope, and yes, that fear was rising up, and it took all I could to not smile and laugh.

I finally got home, with another 4 green stretchy things deep in my backpack, under the remnants of my lunch.

That night, after dinner, I gathered the courage within myself to walk down the stairs to the family room. I had packed essentials in my backpack and left it at the top of the stairs, along with my coat and boots, just in case this didn't go well.

The top stair creaked as I started down and I heard the muffled voices stop. When I got to the bottom, they were all looking at me.

I walked over to them and took a seat with easy egress. I took a deep breath and started talking.

When I was through, no one said a word.

This uneasy silence went on for what seemed like hours. Then a flood of questions began. I answered them as best I could, but the one that asked how I knew it was for real? That one stopped me. Up until then, I had left my other brother out of it, wanting to make sure they would be in before giving that information away.

When I hesitated, my father got up and walked over to the chest freezer. He pushed it until it revealed a stairway going into darkness.

He said they had been preparing since the day my brother was taken, and had just finished it.

I walked up to my father so I could look him right in his eyes, and I told him I had met my brother there, that he was the one that sent me back for them, that told me we all had to come before it was too late.

My brothers jumped into action, whispering commands to each other. I told them I was packed, and they had me go up and pretend to get ready for bed then after shutting off the light, to meet them in the basement. If we really were being watched, they would know my father and brothers rarely went upstairs before midnight.

I did as I was told, and after turning off the light, I looked around my room for the last time, wondering if I will ever see it again.

When I got downstairs, there were bags stacked next to the freezer, one of my brothers quickly gave me a rundown of what was in them. There was food, water, clothing, and also money and weapons.

We started down the rickety stairs while my father closed the freezer back over the opening, and locking it with a some sort of mechanism that looked pretty sturdy. They had thought of everything.

The tunnel ended up in the woods, not very far from the trail head where I started from the day before. My father signed for me to come to the front as I was the only one who knew the way. One of my brothers cut a disguised rope and let loose a bag that seemed to sufficiently fill the small hole we had just exited.

Everything looked different in the dark, and every single sound caused a little bit of panic.

We moved slowly, keeping eyes out for movement behind or next to us. We had to get there before midnight. Lights left on later than the usual time would send up a red flag.

Once we got to the part of the trail that deviated from the main one, we moved quicker. A light drizzled had started which cut the noise down.

I changed trails again to another smaller one, that wove through a thicker part of the woods that all of a sudden opened up a bit to reveal the truck sized door.

I led them over to the side, and lifted up the curtain of ivy, and opened the door.

Once inside, I reached into the side pocket of my backpack and pulled out the green stretchy things and gave one to each of them.

I turned and started walking down the sidewalk.

Once we reached the inner door, I knocked, and we waited.

It took longer than expected, I had to knock multiple times. They were not expecting us I guess, and when the little door slid open, I was startled, and a flood of doubt and worry overcame me and I took a step back. I held up my green thing.

The door opened. The man standing there was not my brother, but I recognized him from yesterday.

He ushered us all in, then closed and locked the door behind us. He led us down the same corridor to the room I had gone into to.

When he opened the door, there was my brother. Everyone rushed in and surrounded him. My father had tears in his eyes, and when everyone had calmed down, my brother led us to another room deeper in the their base of operations.

This door opened into what was like an apartment. There was a little main room, a small kitchen that had a fridge and microwave, with a bathroom off of that.

There were four other doors off of the main room. It seemed to have once been an office space of some sort which had been repurposed to living quarters.

My rebel brother indicated that they would share rooms, and my father and I would each have our own.

I set about unpacking the things we brought when he stopped me. He told me we are all equal here, each sharing the work load, in the kitchen and out. He told us to get some sleep and tomorrow he would introduce us to the rest of the rebels.

I went into my little room. A cot had been set up with a mattress that was quite comfortable, and thick blankets. I had a small dresser and a kerosene heater. I changed into my long johns, wooly socks and hat. I took out my sketchbook and put it on the table next to my cot and shut off the light.

Sleep came so easily that I was surprised when I awoke and heard movement out in the main room.

Everyone was just waking up it seemed. There was a small line for the bathroom and coffee was brewing. All eyes turned to me.

It was a strange feeling to go from being in the background to being seen.

My father and brothers, all of them, came over to me and hugged me, thanking me for having the courage to do what they had only whispered about. They thanked me for taking the risk of not only following the breadcrumbs that were given me, but also for speaking up and inspiring them all to action.

I was told how after we arrived here, the watchdogs watching our house had grown itchy when the basement light stayed on. How just about one hour after that troops showed up and busted the front door and ran inside to find our home empty.

Alerts went up all over town, and we were told that it was imperative to get us to the main headquarters.

We were led to a sort of command room and when we entered everything stopped. The leader of the band, or at least I assumed it was as she was at the head of the room and had been talking to them all.

As the heads turned to look back at us, I smiled to see many of them were women and as it dawned on them who we were, they broke into applause.

I recognized friends I hadn't seen since girls were forbidden education, and we happily embraced.

We learned this movement was led mostly by women, that there was a huge underground force all over the country, and that it included such people as former first ladies, entrepreneurs, and influencers. That it was kept organized by those who were in the hotel and restaurant industries. That people were moved from place to place by gardeners, well hidden amongst tools of their trade.

On the wall there was a map. It showed all of the bases across the country. In that moment I knew, the world would be changing again. And this time, I would have a say.