And now he, Simeon Adam Carmichael, was officially a Truth Convert, attending their meetings, handing out their flyers, and committing to a charter of Truth.
Unpleasant or not, the number of low level addicts were on the increase in Hempstead, Nassau County, New York State and had become somewhat of a concern to Kate Murray, Supervisor of America’s largest township. She was curious as to why the youth had traded their designer gear for white tunics, faded denims and plain black plimsolls, and spent hours sitting in Baldwin Park, meditating, channelling ‘truth’ or holding long debates on the variations of truth instead of attending classes at the Hofstra University. But as most of their parents were outstanding members of the community and potential voters, she pushed the matter to the back of her mind.
As Simeon crouched even lower in the long undergrowth, he too wondered, what had made him, and his college friends fall for The Truth.
Maybe, it was due to all the lies that they were told at school, the fairytales with their ‘happy ever after’ endings, or ‘if you work hard at school, then go to Uni and get a degree, you’ll get a good job’. Or maybe they were all fed up with the increasing number of lies – the iPhone 5 will make you happy, Lady Gaga’s perfume Fame would make you sexy, or being a contestant on American Pop Idol would make you famous for the 15 minutes that Andy Warhol predicated in 1968.
His Julie.
‘You don’t like silence,’ Julie said in whispered tones after an hour of them sitting in the Lotus position trying to focus on the tiny black spot on the large white wall in the Exchange.
‘Shh,’ he responded playfully, ‘I believe in truth.’
‘Like hell you do.’
Simeon saw the playfulness in her eyes and had smiled inwardly. She was going to be a challenge he’d enjoy.
The challenge was greater than he imagined, for although he believed in The Truth and the values that they prescribed, he wasn’t completely convinced that one needed a ‘truth serum’ to complete the ‘cycle of truth, like Julie. Anything that you needed to snort, shoot or smoke didn’t appeal to him, even if it was meant to be, in the words of their revered leader, ‘enhance your mind to truth’.
Maybe, it was his strict religious upbringing and the accompanying guilt that made him uncomfortable. Or maybe, it was the fact that although Kohl advocated the serum to all new converts, Simeon had never seen him take it.
‘I’ve arrived at a place of truth, far beyond your young imagination’ said the white-haired Kohl, when questioned by Simeon. ‘When, and if, you get there, then, and only then, will you be truly free.’
Simeon looked into Kohl’s eyes and for the first time in his life, saw hatred, and anger. Anger at being challenged, hatred for ‘the common people’, hatred for him. Simeon was scared and vowed, no more questions.
Although he didn’t verbalize his doubts openly, he was curious as to why students were emptying their bank accounts to pay for the serum, why they were mesmerised by such an ‘old guy’ as Kohl. Even the most introverted was outgoing for up to about half an hour after taking the serum, but then shaky, moody and depressed immediately after.
‘You’re just not committed to the Truth,’ Julie had told him after an intense session of guidance, lectures, meditation and serum. ‘Si, you’re too cynical, just like all those politicians’.
Simeon shivered at the word politicians. Hempstead was smitten with political fever ever since it was decided to hold the 2nd live debate of the 57th presidential elections in his hometown on Tuesday, 16th October, 2012 Hofstra University, where he majored in English and Philosophy.
The planning, preparations, slogans, sponsored advertising, and numerous TV crews all pumping out the ‘lying messages of a capitalist society’ was fodder for Kohl. And to combat ‘the evils of spin doctors, PR consultants and advertising agents’, that surrounded Hofstra and the Debate 2012, with its strap line, pride, politics and policy, he organized a 24 hour Truth Vigil starting on the 15th to coincide with the onslaught of the lies from the outside world. And students and youth from all over the state were invited to attend what was now dubbed, Truth 2012, the real choice.
Truth 2012 made the uncomfortable Simeon more dubious about Kohl’s methods and motivation. He hated politics and to him Kohl was appearing like a politician more dangerous than those elected by the people. A self-styled spiritual guru, he not only offered the commercial fish and bread, to those committed to the Truth, but also sold it as a commodity to those who were searching for meaning in their young lives.
Simeon wanted to stop attending Truth meetings, return to his Shakespeare and Plato, wear normal clothes, and spend time, alone, with the curveaous Julie. Instead he continued to be with his friends and near Julie as her guardian and protector. Julie, with once carefree spirit, now a fully fledged member of the Truth Mongers
Their Julie.
The Julie that he had stumbled across in Kohl’s office on the evening of the 17th, the evening after the Debate 2012 – drugged and half-naked. The Julie whose eyes rolled when she looked at him in those closing moments. The Julie who had died in his arms – her last words, ‘This is not truth’.
‘So, you killed her!’
Simeon turned to the voice of Truth’s leader and for the first time felt the thick liquid at the back of Julie’s neck.
‘You’ve killed our true heroine, with your doubts and faults and fears’.
Simeon couldn’t answer. The shock of Julie’s death and the accusations that hung in midair silenced him.
But they also made him more aware of his surroundings. The window, ajar, the large ornament of the Stature of Liberty with blood dripping from the crown and the open door, which Kohl attempted to shut.