A surge of electricity zapped me, contracting my muscles into a full-body Charlie Horse. Four seconds of unbearable pain.
"Ah!" I cried, touching the implant behind my left temple.
"Tell me again why you don't have to wear an implant?" I had asked my friend Shirly the last time we were together.
"Because my BMI is under 25," she had said. "The insurance company only makes those who are fat, I mean overweight. Shoot, I am not calling you fat, Alexis. Anyways, as long as you are under 25 BMI, you don't have to wear one."
"Mom made me get it," I said.
Shirly shrugged. "Have you tried losing weight?"
I almost punched her.
"Here." Shirly handed me her phone. "Read this article about it."
In order to bring the cost of health care down, the bill passed, allowing all insurance companies to put tele-devices in their patients to promote healthy living.
Healthy living! What a joke. The implant would buzz every sixty minutes of inactivity, ready to inflict pain. I got electrocuted if I didn't get up and move for ten minutes.
"This time, the government had overreached its boundaries," I thought as I stood for my ten minutes of activity.
Marshall Levy almost ended my career and made me question my humanity. Levy, a juvenile thug, knew how to play the system. He bounced in and out of court for three years. Other state workers and I couldn't grasp why he was there. Levy's juvenile documents didn't match the Levy we knew. He didn't look like the gangsters or druggies we usually got. Levy came from a solid Baptist home. In fact, his father was a minister. Levy served several missions with his father, looking the part of a legit missionary. So, why did this kid keep going to detention and getting in trouble with the law?
Reports from his case said he was the politest boy, respectful in all manners. He served the other youth, and he helped his staff. He always had a smile on his face, and he brought contagious joy with him.
Levy snared the worker's hearts. During his stay, the staff broke the rules with him, like sneaking him snacks, magazines, and contraband into the detention center. They couldn't help it. The staff had never worked with a boy like him. Levy hooked everyone with his charm.
I worked as Levy's caseworker, and I must admit, I was captivated by his mask of goodness. He was a refreshing break from all my other hard-nosed clients. In a way, I almost adopted his father's role in my mind, and I would have done anything for him; Anything.
During Levy's last placement in the juvenile system, he was at a treatment program. They took the youth on daily field trips. While on a hike, Levy did the unthinkable to the staff. I choke up even now as I remember. I don't have words to describe it, but it forever changed me, for I had worked with his staff and knew them.
It turns out Levy was a psychopath. He had planned the event for months. He had no remorse for the things he did.
The situation forever changed me and so many of us state workers. I hurt for his staff. I also couldn't escape the pain that this angelic youth had a dark, twisted heart. How could he be so evil? I swear that boy emanated light. Before the incident, I sometimes wondered if he was more Christian than me.
How could Levy beguile us into thinking he was good? But he was good, wasn't he?
He couldn't be good after what he premeditated and carried out against his staff on the mountain.
He executed that.
I had to be removed as Levy's caseworker. It was too personal, but I went to all his court dates. He wore an angelic smile and treated everyone with a loving-kindness. But none of it was real.
IT WASN'T REAL!
He destroyed my hope in society.
Levy broke me.
It took me years to recover from the betrayal. I could handle untrust from every client I worked for, but not Levy.
So, here I am, five years from retirement, and it's taken me almost forty years to care for the youth again. I have been apathetic, going through the motions. I had cared for the youth until Levy had taken that from me. I hated youth. After therapy and years of work, I am again a true advocate for my youth.
But now...I don't know how to go on.
Now the ground rumbles under my feet.
I met my newest case. -his name is Marshal Levy, Jr. This is the satanic offspring of the Levy from my past. I shouldn't call him satanic, but I don't know how to face my emotions. When I read his name, I fell off my chair. Somehow, the Levy from my past had created this child fifteen years ago. How? I thought Levy served a life sentence in prison. Yet, here was his son.
I now question my integrity and my ability to be a civil servant.
I hate Levy, and I thought I had overcome that.
And, when Levy Jr. comes in, it's like the past has returned. He is the spitting image of his father, missionary-looking and all.
And the staff love him. "Isn't he such a nice young man?"
The mayor would never have hired me if she knew my true intention. She should have done her research before bringing me on as her assistant. I am glad she didn't. This gave me direct access to the workings of the two-faced politician. Straight out of the master's program, I had my first writing assignment for The Afton Sun. The dirt I excavated from her life had more sludge than I had dreamed. My story would shake the town into an awareness of who Mayor Hamblin was. If only I could share with them the reflection of truth.
It turned out I didn't have to.
My first day with the mayor started at Liberty Park. We sat on a bench so she could enjoy her skinny latte.
"Basically, you follow me everywhere and do everything I need you to do." She sucked the foam off the top of her morning energy drink. Little bubbles stuck to her lip.
"Everything?"
"Listen, Carol. I will never ask you to do anything illegal."
"It's Carl."
"Hmph," she took another drink. A group of runners jogged by us, and I longed to be with them. I loved running in the morning, having run before class for six years, but the mayor wanted me to start at 6 am; heaven knows why. "We have to be at the ribbon-cutting ceremony at noon. Which means I need to be at the salon in three hours. Do you have my appointment secured?"
"Yes, Mam."
"Thank you, Carol."
"Carl."
A large labradoodle caught my attention as he ran toward us. The pup should make the mayor happy. I remembered a commercial I saw her in last week.
The mayor looked lovely, as she said in the commercial, "I love animals and always have. I had decided if I had lost the election, I would become a vet. No, seriously, members of Afton. These loving animals need you. As your mayor, I have increased our animal shelter to ten more kennels. As a community member, I have also donated from my pocket." She had a slight twitch in her right eye. "Won't you do your part today and visit our lovely furry friends and make a difference?"
Mayor Hamblin appeared angelic in the commercial as several dogs jumped in her lap. As they gave her a tongue bath, she fell backward, and the commercial faded out. Despite all her hidden bad qualities, at least she loved animals.
The labradoodle dropped a drippy muddy ball into the mayor's lap.
"Oh, oh, no!" She screeched as she wiggled back into the bench, trying to escape the giant of a dog. As she picked the slimy ball up, the dog shoved its face into her lap. The latte spilled, drenching the mayor's dress in a brown stain.
"Are you kidding me, you piece of *^#@&*@@!!" Mayor Hamblin looked around. Seeing the park was empty, she took the point of her stiletto and shoved it into the dog's nose. The poor creature howled in pain but didn't run away.
"Was that necessary?" I asked, unable to mask my disgust.
I don't think she heard me as she took the handles to her purse and whipped the dog. Like a faithful servant, the dog coward to the ground and took the beating. I threw my body between them and helped the dog move away.
"I can't believe you just did that." I had intended to play the role of the docile secretary, but I couldn't allow that.
"Just look at me! I must cut the ribbon, and that beast destroyed my dress."
Her dress looked a disgusting mess between the mud and latte, and I was secretly pleased.
"I hate dogs," she added.
"I thought you were an animal advocate," I said.
She barked with her hand on her hip, "I need you to call animal control on that mutt. It needs to be locked away."
"That dog is a high breed and had a collar. I wouldn't be surprised if its owner were somewhere in the park."
"Do you see what it did to my dress?" She screamed at me as if I had dirtied her. "I want that dog to die. Call animal control."
I pretended to call animal control and turned to her when I finished my phony call.
She said, "Death wouldn't be sweet enough."
"At least we have a no-kill animal shelter."
An evil laugh rumbled out of the mayor's soul. "Not anymore. I changed the stay time to 7 days."
"Then what?"
"Sweet death."
"What?" my voice faltered. "I thought you were an animal advocate."
The mayor stood up, chucked her empty latte cup on the ground, and walked away. "That is what I want them to think." I picked up the cup and threw it away.
As we reached her car, a bedraggled woman approached us—an infant cooed from the sling on the woman's back.
"Tamales, four for eight dollars," the lady said. Her dirty clothes and leathered skin witnessed her hard life.
"Get a job," the mayor snarled as she slammed her car door in the woman's face. The woman's eyes dropped. I pulled out my wallet and gave her a hundred-dollar bill.
"Oh, thank you, sir. I have not fifty tamales to give you."
"Sell your tamales. The money is to help you buy diapers for your baby."
The woman grabbed my hand as tears streaked the dirt on her cheeks. "Thank you, thank you. God bless you."
The mayor blared her horn. "I have to buy a new dress, and you are pissing away my time."
*
The city prepared for the big event. Two news agencies videoed the ceremony. Mayor Hamblin cut the ribbon for the new soup kitchen. "Every person on the street deserves a chance," she said with a twitching right eye and a pristine smile. Her perfectly straight teeth glimmered against the noon sun. They almost looked fake from how white they shined.
"You are a phony!" I wanted to run up to her and yank the scissors out of her hands. But I stood there as she cut the ribbon, and people cheered for the benevolent, almost saintly mayor. I would have believed the halo she wore around her name if I didn't know a few things about her. But I couldn't get the image of her belittling the beggar woman who sold tamales.
As we walked away, a worker for the soup kitchen stopped her.
"Mayor, we ended up getting two microwaves sent to us. They only charged us for one, but they won't take the extra microwave back because of weird red tape. Would we be able to donate it to the woman's shelter? It is a top-of-the-line model."
"Give it to me, and I will figure something out with it," Mayor Hamblin said, almost as if her voice were made of silk.
When we approached the mayor's house, she said, "Bring the microwave in and set it up for me."
"Wasn't this to go to the woman's shelter?"
The mayor put her face in mine. "I am the mayor. I don't take orders from a food worker."
She unlocked her front door. "My microwave died two months ago, and I have been too busy to buy a new one."
She stood behind me after I had set it up. "Tell me how it works."
I scratched my head. "I am not sure. It is in Italian."
She pushed me to the side. "Move, you incompetent assistant."
Mayor Hamblin stood in front of the controls with their Italian words.
"Ahhh!" A blood-curdling scream came from her.
I followed her eyes to the shiny microwave door. It mirrored her reflection, but it had changed it. Staring back at the mayor was a darker version of Mayor Hamblin. Hamblin's reflection had iris black as onyx stone. Dark bags circled her eye sockets. The mayor had pockmarks dredged into her otherwise smooth skin. Two horns protruded out of Hamblin's reflected head. Her hair looked ratted. The mayor hit me in the stomach, and I billowed a lung full of air. I hadn't realized I had held my breath. She grabbed me and yanked me in front of the mirrored door.
The door altered my reflection into a kinder version of me. My stubbled face softened, and light emanated out of the white of my eyes. I almost looked like someone had put a filter on my image, subtracting years from my face.
"That ain't right," she said, letting anger wash away her earlier fear. She stood in front of me. Her darker image appeared as a cloud of black lingering around the image's face.
"I'll figure this out later," she said.
*
Torture is something that happens between two people, the torturer and the victim. The victim is made to taste death without actually dying. He is subjected to atrocious pain and begs his torturer to kill him. He's even ready to forgive the torturer as long as he kills him.
-Saadi Yacef
After a month, I thought I had all the dirty details on Mayor Hamblin to write my piece, but then a treasure trove of information dropped in my lap.
"Would you like me to take notes?" I asked as we crammed into her sitting room with all of the city's bigwigs.
"You have worked with me long enough to know that any of the meetings in my house are not recorded."
"Yes, mam," I said, aware of the recorder running in my pocket.
"To start the meeting," she said after everyone sat. "The city has a surprise sweep for the homeless tent-city on Van Harris Blvd Monday morning. A tractor will come in and remove that eyesore that has plagued our city for too long."
"That is going to cost you votes," a man named Mike said.
"Oh no. You see, the city saw me open the new soup kitchen. They believe I am sympathetic and all that. This project is in Furgeson's name."
"Wise," Mike said, pulling his beard into a triangle at the end of his chin.
How could they talk so callously about human lives? I had to say something. "Where will all those people go? You know that is their lives in those tents?"
"You aren't here for input," Mayor Hamblin growled at me. She softened her voice yet still sounded authoritative as she continued, "Secondly, the cutting for the school funding will take place next fall. John over there cleverly shoved it in the Howard Initiative, and the union will not be aware of it until it is too late."
"Way to go, John," the others said.
And that is how that meeting went—deceptive, ugly laws made without the people's voice.
Toward the end of the meeting, the mayor's guest got rowdy after one too many cocktails. They played weird games that made me uncomfortable, so I entered the kitchen. As I sat at the table and worked on my piece for The Afton Sun, a group of intoxicated city officials stumbled into the kitchen.
"Look into the microwave," Mayor Hamblin said.
John stepped up to it, and he jumped back in horror. Staring back at reflected a hideous version of himself. Dark rings stuck out from his eyes. His forehead curved downward. He looked evil but nothing as menacing as Mayor Hamblin. They all took turns, and every one of them looked like demons.
Mayor Hamblin pulled me up from the table. "You need to see Carol in the microwave."
"Carl," I muttered. She pushed me to the reflective glass. Like before, I looked kind as light reflected in my eyes.
"Wow, that is crazy."
Stacey, the housekeeper, carried a tray into the kitchen at that moment.
"Let's see hers," someone said as they shoved Stacey toward the microwave. Stacey dropped the tray, and the glasses shattered.
"I am sorry. I am sorry," she said, bending down to clean it up.
"Wait, you have to look into the microwave first."
It didn't surprise me that Stacey's reflected an angel. Michelangelo couldn't have painted a more divine image.
I dubbed the microwave the reflection of truth. It mirrored the image of the heart.
While the party taunted Stacey, I cleaned the glass mess.
At about 2 am, the party dissipated, leaving only John behind.
"What you are proposing isn't legal," he said.
"Just give me your money, and you have my vote. No one will ever know."
John looked around the room, and I closed my eyes to pretend to be sleeping. Satisfied that there were no witnesses, he slipped the mayor a wad of cash.
*
"Thank you for inviting me here to represent the children." The mayor hugged the sixth grader as the crowd "Awed." Mayor Hamblin had accepted the invitation to welcome in the Afton Elementary Carnival. "As long as the local news is there, I will do it," she had said.
"I believe in doing everything I can to support today's youth." Despite the twitch in her eye, she looked sincere. Almost motherly.
"Yeah, right," I mumbled to the person sitting to my right. "Like when you turned away the girl who was selling chocolates at your house three days ago."
I remember the mayor chastising the little girl at her door. "If I wanted chocolates, I would buy quality, not your cheap stuff."
"But it is to bring gym equipment to our school."
"Not my problem." Mayor Hamblin slammed the door closed on the little girl.
-Yup, supporting our youth.
I wanted to stand up and shout as loud as possible, "The mayor is a crock!" But it would come out soon enough in my article. Everyone in Afton would know. I just needed two more weeks.
And yet, I think it happened so slowly that I had failed to notice the changes that transpired over the mayor. I sat across from her at the diner. The upbeat joint had lots of light and exciting energy. As we ate, the bright light displayed the mayor's once smooth skin, now pocked. She must have skipped her makeup regime earlier.
"I don't care that a soccer field is there. That land is more valuable as high-rises. I want you to accept the offer… Again, where the soccer league meets is not my problem." The mayor jabbed the off button and shoved her phone in her purse.
"The problem with people is they are too sympathetic. If you are to learn anything from me, Carol is to put policies above people."
I stared at the witch, for she started looking like one. And, I had no doubt she had the blackest heart in Afton. Large black bags were under her eyes, and wrinkles took over her face. You had to hand it to makeup. It turned this grotesque woman beautiful. Why had she gone out in public without it? The dark aura that surrounded her seemed strange. She looked like a black fog covered her.
Later, we went to her house, where she worked on the computer while I worked on my story for The Afton Sun.
"Stacey, make me some tea," she commanded, but Stacey didn't show up. "Oh, yeah. She went to a wedding tonight." Mayor Hamblin got up and made her tea. It surprised me that she hadn't asked me to make it. She stood in front of the microwave while it cooked. When the mayor turned around with her steamy cup, I noticed a horn had popped out above her right ear.
"I am going to need you here by 5 am tomorrow," she said, but how could I hear her past that horn? "The federal government has placed this mandate…"
She had a freakin horn!
It all made sense. Her looks failed as she slowly took on parts of the microwave image.
I had to experiment.
"May I make myself a cup of tea?"
"Are you listening to anything I said?" She snapped.
I wasn't.
The mayor pointed to her cupboard. "You know where everything is."
I quickly poured the water into a mug and dropped in a tea sachet. I put it in the microwave.
"How long did you cook yours?" I needed to use the same amount of time for my experiment.
"One minute and forty-five seconds. Now stop talking and finish listening to me." She threw her hand on her hip. Her horn caught my eyes.
I stood in front of the microwave and waited for the transformation. When it beeped, I ran to her bathroom.
"Where are you going?"
I closed the door and looked in the mirror. I couldn't be sure, but maybe my skin was a bit smoother.
The mayor chastised me when I returned for rudely going to the bathroom.
I returned at 5 am the following day and sat at the mayor's kitchen table. She looked horrific. She had zero makeup on, and she almost looked like the demon from the reflection of the microwave. Stacey hadn't arrived for the day. The mayor whipped up oatmeal and stuck it in the microwave.
Thank goodness for the early hour because the mayor's mouth hadn't woken up yet. I reveled in her golden silence. With sleep still in her eyes, she stared at the microwave. And when she turned, it had happened. The second horn had appeared.
I fell off my chair.
"Get up, you twit," she grumbled.
It made sense. The microwave exposed the true soul in every person. And I guess, when you used it, your outer image soon revealed the true you.
My first writing assignment received instant success. Rumors had traveled about the mayor's new look. She had done all she could to shield her grotesque self from the public but had failed miserably. No matter how many scarves or hats she wore, those horns made their selves known. No one could stop talking about the mayor's demonic transformation. And when The Afton Sun released my story, they sold more papers that week than they had in ten years.
No longer could Mayor Hamblin hide her ugly heart, for it manifested on every inch of her body. The reflection of truth showed Afton the true Mayor Hamblin.
