Chapter 5: Mandatory Fashion

A crimson shoe (obviously approved) sourse: https://www.justmenshoes.com

And silence lingered on as Babe tried to grasp what now was becoming clear to her — standing out was nothing that would go down favorably. The drama-queen needed to be restrained. Contemplating this, Babe began to notice something strapped across many people’s mouths. Just like the fabric across the pale side of Double Ception. At first it had looked like dark cloth, blending into the greyness. But when the light shifted, Babe now noticed that the cloth shimmered red.

She slowed her steps. “Why are their mouths covered?”

Double Ception’s darker face split into a grin. “Covered? Oh no, not at all. Accessories. Signs of loyalty. Very modern. Mandatory fashion, you could say. Good merchandise. Good sales. Everyone who matters wears one, and of course you want to keep up with the times… especially when the times are a-changing… for the better.”

“For some,” Babe thought. Merchandise. Sales. Profit. Forging your chains longer and longer while your souls wither to dust. A touch dramatic, perhaps — but fair. Sometimes she even prided herself on finding the words most fitting. Glad to have her books and her words, intertwined — well, scattered rather randomly — around her brain. Missing them desperately in that moment, she knew she’d be lost without them.

Looking closer, she saw there was nothing voluntary about the mandatory fashion, a contradiction in itself, although here intertwined with the logic. The cloth was pulled tight, pressed against their lips — enough to silence everything. The pale side of Double Ception twitched, skin flashing with the faintest traces of color — blue, green, yellow, pink — as if trying to breathe, but held down by the red cloth.

A lump rose in Babe’s chest. “But they can’t speak.”

“They don’t need to,” the darker face of Double Ception replied, his voice smooth and rehearsed. “Speech breeds disorder. Doubt. Far better that we speak for them. Much more efficient. Double-plus-good, as some would say.”

Those very words seemed to summon him: a rather grey, of course, man of unclear age and height, wearing his mandatory fashion with pride — nicely balanced by a pair of strikingly shiny crimson shoes. He shuffled forward slowly, as if checking the ground for possible quicksand or booby traps. Having avoided these imagined mortal perils, he bowed once, as if awaiting applause, and straightened himself when none came. Drawn by the sheer gravity of Double Ception’s presence, his eyes widened — submissive, desperate to please, eager to contribute, and thus, to be noticed — which, in itself, was something quite out of the ordinary.

“Yes,” Double Ception turned to the man. Forcing the gag aside — which took quite an effort — the man, his voice hoarse and unpracticed, managed an awkward bow. “Oh, I just thought I could be of service.” But before Double Ception could reply, Babe seized the moment. “Why do the authorities let some houses collapse, and… and what happens to the children living there. Do you know?”

The man straightened, proud as a peacock, and tugged the muzzle down again just long enough to declare, with smug conviction: “For the greater good.” A moment later, as if with a mind of its own, the strap snapped back over his mouth and tightened around his head — only then, to both his and Babe’s astonishment, did it begin to speak on its own.

Citizens are reminded that removing or adjusting approved mandatory fashion without a permit may result in immediate re-gagging and/or administrative humming and resonance. For assistance, please contact the Bureau of Acoustic Compliance by voicemail. Thank you for your cooperation.

“Do not mind that, my dear fellow citizen,” Double Ception said with warmth. “No harm done. In fact, you did well, and I shall amend what might have been lost.”

He was obviously very pleased, jotting something down and filing it neatly into a golden folder. The man not only regained his posture but seemed to grow an inch or two as he nearly skipped away on light feet — so giddy with approval that Babe half-expected him to break into song or whistle a tune. But the musical that might have been never saw the rise of a curtain. Not in this place.

However, his awkwardly bouncing steps still resembled a kind of hopscotch, using the paving slabs on the ground as piano keys. To her relief, the keyboard was unplugged, and Double Ception did not seem to notice. Order was upheld, or, perhaps, reinstated.

“For the greater good,” she realized, echoed close to the smeared text she’d seen on the billboard earlier. Words here spun in circles, repeating endlessly no matter what people saw with their own eyes. And in that, Babe thought grimly, there was a twisted kind of logic, one Double Ception delivered with unsettling precision.

— — — — — — — —

Continuing to release my short satirical–allegorical text about how today’s political power increasingly works through presence: Soylent Red.

You find the whole thing here: https://www.tjiso.org/

I thought I would be dropping it one chapter a week about here at Medium. At least that’s the plan. I hope you enjoy it.