Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and of high aspirations. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's "wondrous" imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance(s) to actual events, locales, organisations, organisms, or persons, living or dead or living-dead, is/are entirely coincidental.

  It was a normal school day; the teenagers were having their usual lunch break. The library was flooded with colourful shades, as cheerful as the sun overhead, warm but not overbearing.
  In my memory so it was entrenched, it was such a normal day when They took over. At least, that was what I later deemed the official Take-Over. For all I know, the original Take-Over began long ago, since time immemorial, perhaps during the early 1700's, when industrialisation took place.
  It was art class; those teenagers were painting flat shades of colours onto wood panels, ready for mounting on school walls. Those shades were flat, but as colourful as the class was.
  On the left of the class was an African-American girl, whose hair was curly and her eyelashes long, her lips thick and generous. She chatted animatedly with another girl, whose hair was a platinum blonde. Over at the other side, a youth of the male gender winked at his female counterpart, and they both blew kisses at each other. Somewhere in the middle was a boy, who directed it all with twinkles dancing in his eyes, and somewhere at the front of the classroom were two boys laughing at some secret joke, and somewhere in between were students working, while laughing occasionally as someone showed them their works.
  "Look, isn't this purty? Oh yes this is!"
  "Everyone look," I said, "Bernard's is quite interesting. His bold use of red and green…"
  "That looks like Christmas! Bernard, it's only August!"
  "Complementary colours, as I was saying," I laughed, "But yes, colour associations ought to be considered too."
  "Hey, Christmas-spirit is good, all the presents and mistletoes, by the way, I want a bike for Christmas, is anyone getting it for me?" Snigger en-masse; someone was making snide remarks from behind.
  "I will if you manage to get an A," I teased. The classed ooohed.
  "Oh really…" He grinned, "No way!"
  "Awwww, you'll never get your bike!"
  "Oh yes I will!" I smiled; the boy who replied indignantly had looked determined to fight.
 
  The day They took over, the students all faded to grey—they changed from young ladies and gentlemen, bursting with youth, into mere students of grey uniformity; their eyes were dull and weighed with sleep, their hair were all dyed a shade of metal grey; their skin were all bleached stone grey.
  That memorable day, all voices died down. All the students assembled at the hall, marvelling at the monument that was erected upon the grand marble. Everyone stared ahead, not once taking notice of this monument.
  The Big Guy, the leader of Them all, had gone onto the stage, and gave its memorable talk, with the Minister of Enlightenment and Propaganda (aka Mite) standing at its left, looking down at the students with a smile on its face. To the right of the majestic leader was obviously one of Their kind, whose face was cluttered up with shiny metal shrouding over the face and enhancing its entire build. In its left hand was a long whip as thick as a tree root. It was the Minister of Conquest and Endeavours, also known as Trotter, among the teachers whose hearts had not yet been taken over by Them.
  We shall not slack, proclaimed the great leader. From now onwards, you are all to stay 24/7 in school to complete your projects.
  Onward to peace and stability, said Mite. A small effort goes a long way.
  A small blunder brings a long whiplash, said Trotter, and he cracked his whip.
  We watched as the students shuddered, and the Big Guy said, That's it for today. Have a nice day.
  Lessons went by. The classroom was all grey, so even I could hardly keep from falling asleep, but I knew that Trotter would get me if I didn't flock the students well enough. I'm sleepy. Why can't I sleep? Oh…. Before I knew it my breaths started coming out deeply and I sounded like I was snoring.
  I was drifting in between consciousness and subconsciousness as I lifted my chalk and taught the students what Michaelangelo did in his lifetime. Somewhere in the recesses of memory, I was reminded that I once discussed about Michalangelo's sexuality with this blob of current grey mass, which was once lovely teenagers with their own various interests, full of laughter.
  By the time lunch had come, the sun seemed to swell in the sky, and the entire asphalt road was burning. The white light, reflected off the roads, was so intense that I could hardly open my eyes without squinting, and in the process, looking like I had just woken up from hibernation and was in desperate grumpy need of caffeine.
  I fed on tasteless food they called Cuisine, and during a free period, I sat in the room with other teachers, collectively marking essays.
  Vaguely I could remember a day that was beautiful, when the sun was gently caressing everything on earth, without grilling every brain cells that were left in my brain. I remembered a time when I climbed down the stairs to the canteen for lunch, scrumptious lunch of my choice, delicious spicy Nasi Bryani.
  We had a conference after lunch, to discuss the well-being of the School. The Big Guy said, Perhaps it is better to enforce stricter disciplinary methods in order to maintain the image of Our School. These students are no more than machinery that we should fully utilise so as to score great A results.
  All the teachers applauded, including me, although I vaguely remembered loving the students as they were, even those who flunked with F, for their colourful personalities and cheerful smiles, and the lovely drawings they presented to me on Teacher's Day.
  And less lunch time for them, too. Any students caught wandering about skipping PE is going to have to re-do it until they die of exhaustion.
  All teachers took note.
  Also, if any students defy the Grey Code in this School, then they are going to be shot. We can't have anyone looking colourful; colours are sleazy and should not be tolerated.
  Everyone agreed that strict reinforcement of discipline for the School's welfare was important. At the end of the meeting, all the teachers filed out of the room. On the way out, Trotter passed a BB-gun to each teacher, and an electric stunner. We stuffed it into our pockets, and headed back to class.
  When I entered the class, the students were noisy, chatting to each other, and a girl even had dyed her grey hair back to what it used to be.
  "How dare you defy the School Rules! Don't you know that we must Uphold Our School's Image?" I yelled, and with my stunner, I stunned everyone. Everyone immediately fell silent, and I heard sizzling sounds where the stunner came to contact with skin.
  The girl with coloured hair stood up, and looked at me in the eye. Was it tears glimmering in her eyes? I wasn't sure, but I withdrew my shotgun and got ready to fire.
  "Sit down, or else!"
  "No!" She remained standing, her strong demeanour seeming to shine. "Sir, is this what it was? Why have things become like this? Since when have we stopped being humans?"
  I fell silent, trying to catch hold of what she said.
  "Do you still remember my name? When we were once alive and breathing?"
  "Since… a long time ago…" I whispered. The shotgun fell from my hand, and I fell to my knees, and wept.
  The teenagers stared at me in awe, and some of them applauded the girl—whose name I vaguely remembered was once called Angel. Oh yes, Angel, the girl with lovely auburn hair, and an expressive face, with an air of defiance that made her a survivor. Oh, her name was Angel, oh yes, I remembered then.
  But, remembering my job, I picked up the BB-gun, stuffed it into my pocket, and said, "Sorry… Angel, please sit down."
  She smiled at me gently, and sat down. These teenagers recovered immediately, and said, "Oh yes, oh yes… We weren't meant to be like this…"
  "Come on, speak up," I said, and we all laughed, "Did anyone find some interesting pieces of information on Michaelangelo's boyfriends?"
  Suddenly it seemed like this uniform patch of grey was coloured again.
  And for that, I was glad.

  But this bliss was immediately broken by the Incident that happened the next day. I had been walking along the corridor and the Big Guy had caught Angel. It dragged her by her arm with its own mechanical grip, ranting all the way, This is a bad example! Follow it and you shall die! How dare anyone have coloured hair? Only Grey will maintain our very own image! Our School's image! How dare you, Bitch! Die!!
  The Big Guy dragged her across the corridor, onto the public pedestal, and shrieked, This Student has commited a Great Crime! How dare she, the black sheep of you all? She's ruining your image, that's what she's doing! Look at her hair, look at her watch! Colours are sleazy and will ruin our school image!
  Yes! She deserves stoning! Mite hooted, and beneath the pedestal, form teachers were made to hand out stones. I was grateful that I was not a form teacher, but was deeply disturbed by the fact that none of my colleagues seemed to realise that they were all about to stone a girl to death with those… those pieces of grey hard reality.
  …If she gets stoned, the reputation of Our School will be retained! Continued Mite, Now Trotter will take the lead.
  On the count of three, said Trotter, and raised his arm. In his arm was a dull grey stone, ready to be thrown to the unfortunate girl on the pedestal. One… Two… Three.
  All at once, all arms were raised, and stones flew from grey hands into the lovely human at the front. To my horror, the stones splattered against Angel's form, slithering over her hair till her lovely auburn hair was grey, slithering over her eyes… Only her mouth screamed, "You're not meant to be like this!" But the rocks slithered even over her opened mouth, and soon her cries were drowned in rocks, melted rocks that encased her in grey gunk that rendered her motionless.
  Ah, good job. You are good students, said the Big Guy, and he smiled. Trotter carried the grey statue down the pedestal, and Mite congratulated everyone for the defeat of unruliness.
  Back in my classroom, the class was silent, and a small group of students were weeping openly. "They… They got Angel…"
  I stared at them vacantly.
  "Sir, you will save her, wouldn't you? Please say you will!"
  I shook my head, "Hush now, you don't want them to catch you…"
  "They stoned her because they don't know her! They're so ready to condemn… But what about us? She speaks up for us! We can't speak up, we don't dare to…"
  "I'm so sorry I didn't stand up…" And a boy in front wept grey tears, "I'm sorry I didn't dare to…"
  "She was the voice of us all," cried another one.
  The class was encased in a shroud of mourning for the rest of the lesson, and I could say nothing to console them.

  That was not the only fiasco. Soon enough, after the Stoning Incident, came the Caning incident, whereby a teacher was accused of freaking out from marking too many essays. This teacher was sent to the Sick Bay for days later, unable to sit or lie on his back. He was fed with a tube of glucose syrup, and it took months for his wounds to heal, and even then the scars remained.
  Long before he had recovered, a few days after this caning, there was an accelerated rate of students shot by teachers. The Big Guy ordered for these students' bodies to be cleared, and dumped into the pantry for the next Cuisine. Finally I had enough. I had too much. I had not shot anybody, but students were disappearing from my classes, and when I thought I saw a nose that resembled one of my students, I puked, and dumped the Cuisine into the bin.
  I figured that the only way was to figure out how the hell They took over. If I could get rid of Them…
  I tried searching on the Internet, but Proxy prevented me from accessing anything outside of School network. I skulked among the books in desperation. I could no longer talk to any of my colleagues, knowing that each one of them have at least shot someone in his life, someone that was once so colourful.

  Strangely, despite all the craziness going on at School, we were given a day off for National Day, and I went for the Parade, hoping that the colours would cheer me up. Of course, it didn't, because it was all so uniform, that I broke down in front of the millions of people who were at the stadium.
  On my way out, I bumped into a military man by the name of Gabriel, and we began talking. He said, alcohol could solve many problems, so I went with him to a bar, and both of us went stinking drunk. That night, when I fell asleep, I dreamt of huge guillotines and a long line of people…It seemed like Michaelangelo's Gothic art. The next morning I woke up at some strange place aching all over, having to pace around because if I stood still or sat still I would feel like puking.
  "You told me a lot last night," said Gabriel, who came out in a bathrobe, "I could help you."
  "Please do," I said, sensing his sincerity, and cried.
  I learnt that it was a military secret, that we were under beta-testing. It was said that a tribe named Gahmen had supposedly invented the idea that if everyone was uniform there could be higher efficiency, so the military decided to invest in it.
  "Why do you tell me all these? Why did you hold me? I don't understand, I'm all grey now…"
"You won't be grey for long, trust me… Let's just say fate brought us together, and anyway I don't agree with what's going on… Hey, I didn't say anything, right?"
  I had to laugh, "No, you didn't, even if they threatened to guillotine me."
  He hugged me, and said, "No, they can't guillotine you."
  I laughed, and laughed, for it was so warm, the gentle light with a tinge of yellow ocre shone into the room, and in this warmth I could laugh and cry, and it would all seem wonderful.

  I left Gabriel, promising that I would come back as soon as I destroyed this regime, that I would quit all of it once I drove Them out of the system. He said that it would prove the test a failure if that did happen, and he wished me good luck.
  In simple terms, They were a bunch of mechanical viruses (thanks to Nanotech), generated by an engine that ran 24/7. There were two problems with this technology:
  A) The viruses generally die within twenty-four hours, and therefore, a machine had to be installed where the victims were to gather at the same time everyday so that they could get a fresh instalment of viruses in their system;
  B) This machine had to rest once a year (I finally understood why they let us go for National Day), and that this machine was large and fragile. It had to be protected by a layer of silver from oxidation and another layer of silicone so that any collisions would be negated.
  I memorised the statistics of the machine. That man had passed me a small hand-held driller with a diamond at the tip, saying that it was powered by battery—but take care! For the battery was expensive, and it couldn't be found anywhere, and it could only allow me to use the driller for about twenty minutes and no more.
  I hid the driller in my coat and treated it like my baby. I knew I had to find the engine, but where could it be?
  One morning, during assembly, many students were lined up—they were the group of students that had cried for Angel's defeat, and their heads were lowered, their hands chained. To my horror, right beside them was a huge mechanical device, which I recognised as one that came from Jacobin's rule in the French Revolution—the guillotine! My dream had come true! This was Judgement Day—this was the beginning of the Apocalypse…!
  In the corner of my eye, I saw the monument, large and looming. I saw that it was porous marble, that it was larger than a Nanovirii-ejecting machine…
  Knowing that I was a minor teacher and nobody was paying attention to me, I sneaked towards the staff toilet, which was right beside this monument. Trotter stopped me, Where are you going?
  "I'm going to the toilet," I said meekly, "I think I ate too much on National Day."
  Let him go. What harm can he do? Said Mite, If he does anything, we'll just let him join the queue on the platform.
  Okay, Said Trotter. Go.
  I ran towards the toilet, and peeked out from behind the toilet door. I saw that the monument was directly blocking anyone's view of the door, that I could sneak up without anyone catching a glimpse of me.
  And so, I sneaked up, careful not to make any noise. Where should I start? I thought, and saw a tiny patch of yellow ocre on the grey marble. Ah! I knew immediately, this was the spot. Its weak spot.
  I drilled it in, hoping that the sound was tiny compared to the screams of the students at the front. I wanted to run any moment, but knew that if I wasn't there to drill it in, this monument would never fall.
  Suddenly, the marble cracked, and the monument began to fall—Trotter had realised what was wrong, and it rushed at me. Desperation made me drive it in harder.
  The monument fell, and silvery bits began to fly.
  Trotter froze in midstep, and the Big Guy's shrieks were heard from afar, and I could feel the awe that Mite bore before it fell flat on its face, lifeless. Trotter evaporated into nothingness.
  The whip melted into a black strip on the ground, and I saw the machine falling out, its greyness falling apart.
  As I ventured closer, preparing to strike the machine with the drill, I saw that it was already obsolete. There was a blinding light, however, that formed miniature rainbows on the silver-coated innards of the monument—it was white light reflected by the silver, I was sure, and I saw amidst the lovely rainbows, the bright colours, my very own smiling face, melting into my usual features, no longer grey as it was during that regime.

Saturday, 03 August 2002 2:10:11 PM
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