The Aphrodite Principle

What happens in a world where we cannot choose the ones we love?

THE APHRODITE PRINCIPLE

            Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.--1 corinthians 13:4-7

            I left her side five minutes before to go to the kitchen sink and splash water on my face.  I then promptly returned to the bed I shared with my wife in relative peace--the peace before the insane electricity.  I lay on the left side of the bed on top of the covers, anxiously watching the gaping white wall next to the door of the apartment.  It was the wall that could have no adornments, no pictures, no installations, absolutely nothing.  The wall was reserved by law every morning at exactly five.  A slight sheen of reds, whites, and blues flowed across it from the roving, all night advertisements outside that appeared on trucks, blimps, and human clothing.  I knew in three minutes, the stale darkness would disappear and the white wall would blare out its usual dose of madness, wondering where lives would be hurled to next.

            Lying in the darkness, I wished I had a cigarette, but such a thrill was no longer available.  I inched my hand underneath the bed to a loosened wooden plank and pulled it up to find my savior.  I pulled out a small wooden box with a picture of Christ on the top and fingered a small packet.  I pulled off the top of the packet eagerly and sprinkled some of the yellow powder inside on my tongue, knowing full well my wife would probably despise what I was doing.  She was dead to the world, snoring gleefully.  I had two minutes--plenty of time to enjoy the last flavors in a bland bowl of forced bliss. 

I slicked back my hair and let the powder slide down my throat.  Instantly, a bolt of lightning shot through my brain and I let it take over my body for thirty seconds.  It was beautiful.  It was the closest I could get to masturbating and having true ecstasy without alerting the Lover’s Guild to my apartment door.  Savoring this, I casually looked at the glaring, red numbers of a wall clock in front of me and groaned"--one minute.  One minute and the powders had to go away, one minute and all signs of discontent had to dissolve instantly, one more minute and I had to be a loyal, devoted, and completely involved husband.  I quickly tossed the empty packet into the wooden box and covered it up.  I wiped saliva from my mouth and awaited the inevitable. 

The clock turned five and the apartment lights flashed on as did a large flickering, holographic screen on the white wall that had the words Good Morning Lovers! flashing across it.  My wife, Corya stirred and then rolled over to greet me with a rail-thin, pale arm that smacked across my face ungracefully.  Her shock of red hair was like an unholy fireball.  Every morning, I dreaded the face that was revealed under endless layers of frizz.  When her ghostly face finally made its first appearance that morning it was already alive and ready.  Umber spheroids were aflame and thin, unpleasant lips licked with anticipation.  It was almost here.  Soon the undergarments that the Love Guild required us to wear would be off and the morning’s deed would have to be carried out. 

The holographic screen changed to the image of Toliver Smoults, a fifty-something anchorman who did the mandated morning web-casts at the behest of the Lover’s Guild International Committee.  If I had to describe him, I would say he was a shriveled up old goon who had nothing better to do than get his rocks off by watching people who were only slightly prettier than him have sex, and he was always so damn cheerful.  It was revolting.  Still, I had to perform this morning.  I had to be at my best or The Love Guild would find me and it would all be over.  Toliver Smoults smiled creepily through glowing green eyes and a finely tailored suit. 

“Good Morning, Children!  It is another beautiful and sunny day in Freyal.  A perfect seventy degree weather day with just a touch of cool breeze awaits us all.  We do hope you enjoy it.  In news, it seems as though Iranian president, Fardin forgot to pay the bill for his dinner last night with Turkish president, Afet.  But the two got along famously nonetheless and let bygones be bygones, enacting a peace treaty to put aside all armaments.  Their nations are in talks to have the weapons destroyed!  Isn’t that wonderful?  From love all blessings flow!  In local news, the revolutionary sect of G.R.I.M.A.C.E desecrated a government building last night as well as the statue in the center square of our beloved founder, President Masala Oyeneda.  Such…”  His eyes blinked as he tried for the most loving word possible that would not undermine the context of the story. “…unpleasant acts were dealt with in a calm, encouraging, and loving manner.  I do believe those ol’ knuckle heads forgot their daily dose of Aphline yesterday.”  He said that last part with a hearty chuckle and a wink to the audience.  “But don’t despair, children.  This too shall pass.  Love is patient, love is kind, love shall provide.”  Toliver made the sign for ‘I love you’ and Corya and I followed like clockwork, saying in unison. 

“Love shall provide.”

“Now lovers, husbands and wives, mates for life, it is time to take the one you love into your arms for the ritual love making.”  This was when Toliver was at his most egregious, sugary-coated self.  It was also when a red light appeared out of the wall, just above the screen.  It was the moment I feared.  One moment, one tiny twitch that showed any sign of displeasure, discomfort, or lack of interest was taken into account by the red light and brought to the attention of the Love guild.  I had heard stories of neighbors being dragged out of their apartments and carried away screaming, never to be heard from again--private lives going public.  I remembered my saccharine grin and pulled Corya on top of me, embracing her like the coward I was.  I awaited the awful signal to begin. 

“Now, children!  Begin the dance of love!  Take your mates like they’ve been preserved in time, in the waters of beauty…like they haven’t aged a day!”  Corya buried her gnarly red hair into my chest and began gyrating.  She squealed when nothing was happening and candy sentiments poured from her mouth like a goopy milkshake.

“Oh, shmooky bear, I love you.  I can’t live without you!  If I lost you…I would just die!”   She said all this in a high-pitched voice like Snow White, which was not only creepy, but it made it difficult to determine if she was being sarcastic or if she was dead serious when she said it. She kissed me firmly on the mouth and I pushed myself to return the affection.  I even threw in some moans to be as convincing as possible.  The red light glared down at us like a deadly one-eyed spook that presided over us, chaining us to a marriage bed where no love was allowed to grow.  Corya and I were dead weeds wrestling in a bed of rancid flowers.  Love was not patient and it was not kind; love was futile here. 

As I attempted to make my love-making believable, I imagined being somewhere else at that moment.  I envisioned being at the town square, walking to the farmer’s market.  Looking into the crowd of mechanized units that walked hand in hand with one another, I saw a face looking back at me--the face of a young man with blue eyes.  It was shocking and an impossibility that he was looking at me and smiling.  He was handsome, the kind of unforgettable handsome that stays with someone.  His pitch black hair was so finely feathered that not even the wind could overturn it.  I wanted him.  Even as my hand was latched to Corya’s in a public area, I wanted to go to him.  Corya turned my head at that moment to kiss me and I had lost him.  I had lost him. 

Even as I looked into my wife’s eyes on our bed, I was seeing him looking at me with those blue eyes.  For a moment in time, I closed my eyes and turned my mind off and just saw him in the room with me, just us in the darkness.  No lights, no television screens, no red lights, no gaudy advertising lights from outside, it would be only our arms around one another, reminiscing about when we first saw one another.  When it was over, Corya was sprawled out on the bed.  The red light disappeared and the disturbing visage of Toliver Smoults was gone.

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            “I just thought of the cutest idea for our anniversary tomorrow, baby!”  Corya called out from the tiny bathroom we shared.  “We should go back to that seafood place we went to on our first date.  You know the one…the…uh…the…”

            “The Grand Tybalt Salmon Grille.”  I finished for her. 

            “Yeah, that one!  Oh, Gordy, you remembered!”  I couldn’t stand it when she called me Gordy rather than Gordon.  The “y” at the end was grating.  It was bad enough she had to talk like a twelve year-old. 

            “Yeah, well you know me.  Listen, honey, maybe seafood isn’t such a great idea.  You know how it doesn’t agree with me.”  It was true.  Seafood was not a good idea.  But that was not the main reason for me not wanting to go to.  Corya came out of the bathroom, dressed in our nation’s uniform required for women, a Pepto-Bismol pink, short dress that came down to the knees with a small slit in the waist to exhibit the slightest bare midriff and white high-heels.  Her wild wreck of a hairstyle from earlier had been tamed down into a fashionable bob.       

            “Oh come on, Gordy.  We love that place.  Besides, you don’t have to eat seafood this time.  You can have a…uh…a garden salad.  Yes, a garden salad.  We have to stay healthy in our bodies as well as in our marriage if we ever want to be preserved.”  I couldn’t stand it.  I wanted a cheeseburger, a beer, and god-willing a cigarette.  But these things were not possible in the city of Freyal.  Indulgences such as these were banned by health officials who declared under the new laws that red meat, carbs and alcohol were the cause of bad moods.  Everyone in Freyal were vegetarians or at the very worst, pescatarians.  “Don’t worry, you’ll have a good time.” 

            I shrugged and proceeded to squeeze myself into my required uniform, a blue jump-suit.  I flinched in pain as I pulled the zipper up and caught some of my chest hairs inside.  It was a mortifying daily experience--another example of knowing I didn’t belong somewhere.  I knew I didn’t like Freyal, I knew I wasn’t attracted to women, and I knew I hated wearing the same bloody thing everywhere I went.  I met the eyes of my wife, which were wide open as if she waiting for me to say something.

            “Yes, we’ll go to the Grand Tybalt.  I’ll make the reservation today.”  She squealed as she clapped her hands and jumped up and down before flinging herself into my arms. 

            “Oh, darling, you won’t regret it.”  It’ll be just like when we first became Mr. and Mrs.  Seltzen. We kissed eachother obligingly and walked out of our apartment together.  Once we were outside we walked up the white concrete courtyard hand-in-hand amongst a sea of blues and pinks.  When we made it to the first cross street, I had to perform the mandatory “gesture of love” in front of the cameras and kiss her full on the mouth while gently bending her backwards.  We then parted ways on our way for work. 

I stopped by the market for an apple and walked up to the town square for a moment before heading to my office building up the street.  Once I came to the twenty foot, marble statue of President Oyeneda, I stared up at it and munched my apple thoughtfully.  Red paint came down in rivulets, starting from the eyes and trickling down to the bronze plaque that praised the great man:  “In time of great woe, he made us love again.”  Also in red paint, in all caps was another message next to that that read:  LOVE IS BLIND. 

I stood reading those words for a long time, until I felt a presence step next to me.  I was about to turn and face the person who was surely a man, judging by the blue jumpsuit in my periphery, but he stopped me and whispered. 

“Don’t look at me, keep looking at the statue.  As long as we keep looking at the old man, no one will suspect anything other than two fellows laying praise to the man that made us all love again.  Would you agree that that is a lie?”  I didn’t answer him at first, my eyes searching for any sign that we were being watched.  “Do not fear.  Surprisingly, the one place one would think to have a camera or recording device would be in this statue, but I assure you this is the safest part of the square." 

“Why is that?”  I asked softly. 

“Please, just the sight of this eyesore would keep any normal person from talking too much.  But you and I are not normal people, I take it.”

“Do I know you?”  I asked.

“Yes.”

I swallowed hard.  I saw the dark hair and I could already picture the blue eyes.

“You’re him, the boy from the market.”

“That’s right.”  His voice was a symphony.  I tried to maintain my composure. “I saw you that day at the market, I knew you weren’t like the rest of the drones who want to go through preservation and come out as lifeless human falsities, because you weren’t looking at your wife.  You were looking at me.  You were embracing your true self, if only for a moment.” 

I shook nervously as I stood next to him, thinking of how much I wanted to touch him. 

“Do you have a wife?”  I asked stupidly, already knowing the answer.

“Not for long and neither do you.”

“What do you mean?”  I asked hopefully.

“I’m part of an organization that is in revolt of the laws set by our president.  An organization that wishes to free men and women from the bonds of federally arranged marriages.  In effect, I’m giving people back their God-given right to choose who to love.”

My face went white with shock.

“You’re with…”

“Yes...Gay Rights International Marriage Acknowledgement Celebrating Everyone, or as you may know them, G.R.I.M.A.C.E.  Like you we’re tired of the banal love fluff that has been circulating throughout the globe and we’ve put together a group of like-minded individuals to bring not only love to the world again, but truth as well.  We’re not only in support of gay rights but in the rights of anyone who is in a loveless marriage.”

“So you did this to the statue?”

“Yes, it’s time Freyal was made an example of.  Speaking of which, you still haven’t answered my question from before.  Do you believe the words spoken of our president to be a lie?”  I stood very still, knowing in my mind what the answer had always been, but now being asked, I clenched up.  Finally, I blurted it out loudly.

“Yes!”

He shushed me. 

“Quiet.”

“Sorry.”

“No apologies, necessary.  You’re ready.  What’s your name?”

My hand was trembling.

“Gordon S-Seltzen.”

“Gordon Seltzen, my name is Brian Marsendale.”  I don’t know what happened in those next few moments.  Perhaps it was relief in hearing Brian say what I had been thinking for so long, maybe it was the elation at the concept that the man I was attracted to had a name and now he knew mine.  Or maybe, I was tired of the mystery and I wanted to feel real love, fearing I would never have it again.  I did something stupid and reckless.  I turned around, grabbed his hand tightly and kissed him on the mouth.  I closed my eyes and pictured us in the dark, alone.  I knew once our lips left one another, it would be over and I wished it didn’t have to end.  I felt the stab of energy race through me.  The sensation was similar to the packets of powder under my bed, but far grander, far more beautiful than I could have ever dreamed.  Our lips slowly left one another, his blue eyes becoming farther away. 

We knew what we had both done.  Still, it was strange because Brian did not look at me with displeasure.  He did not push me away or call out to the nearest Love Guild agent to betray me.  There was only love there--there was truth.

Our hands were still clasped together when the Love Guild agents came to arrest us.  Six men had to pull us apart.  We were two blues in a sea of pinks and blues that for a brief moment were the only ones to experience the summer glow of love’s warmest embraces.

******************************************************************************

            I was brought through an endless hallway and through two heavy wooden doors.  Thrown to the floor by the two Love Guild agents, I faced my judge.  A staircase went up to a hall covered in reds and charcoals and a seemingly infinite library soared to the tallest rooftops.  Standing beside his desk with a small book in hand was President Oyeneda.  He wore a dark suit.  His white hair flowed and was held neatly into a ponytail.  A rich berry-colored cravat peeked out just under his smooth, hairless chin.  A long flowing, velvet cloak of multi-colored swirls draped off of him gently.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was an old queen.  He motioned the agents to leave and he spoke as he closed his book.

            “Shakespeare…is there no one more knowledgeable on the subject of love?”  He looked up at me with an arched eyebrow and smarmy grin. 

            “I suppose not…sir.”  I said more coldly than I meant to. 

            “When it comes to the subject of you and your rebellious friend, however, I must say…I’m not impressed.”

            I shook my head for a moment in disbelief.

            “Then why did you bring me here?”

            “Well, you understand that you’ve caused quite a stir.  In fact, what you displayed in the town square in front of God and in front of everybody is so appalling that the news of it was brought directly to me.  I requested your presence because I want to chat.  I want to clear up once and for all this silly idea of gays and the transgendered falling in love.”

            “How sir…exactly is it silly to show one’s true feelings?”

            “Bah!  They aren’t real feelings.  It’s a chemical imbalance in your brain, one that can be repaired.”

            “But what if I’ve always had these feelings?  They couldn’t have just manifested out of nowhere like that.”

            Oyeneda glared with granite in his eyes.

            “You’re saying you’ve always had these feelings?”

            “Yes.”

            “Preposterous.”

            “I’ve always known them.  I knew them when your men injected me with Aphline and stuck me with a wife that I can’t stand the sight of.  I knew them when that glorified love potion coursed through my veins.  I knew them every moment I lied to myself.  Are you satisfied?”

            Oyeneda still stood atop the stairs, only coming down about halfway. 

            “My life’s ambition, my private war, was to bring peace to a dying world once and for all.  Do you realize that so many battles and wars throughout history are over love?  Men died just to come back to the ones they loved from Sparta to Athens.  People have died for the love of God and they would keep doing it had this not happened.  Think of it, a land where no one killed eachother on a battlefield, where no one murdered, raped, committed adultery, stole, or cheated someone.  It all could be different.  We could all love one another if we wanted to.”

            “And what about the choice to love?  You fought so hard to ensure everyone would never be scorned by something as powerful as love, that you perverted it and turned it against us.  The reason love works…the reason it has always worked is because we could choose!”

            “Then you do not understand what I’m trying to accomplish.  Homosexuals were in the worst position of all.  They fought so hard to claim the right to love whomever they chose and yet they were still demonized.  If I am to create a world without conflict, a world of love, then everyone must love the same.”

            “Then you are lost, President Oyeneda.  You cannot make love perfect.  It has always been imperfect because we ourselves are imperfect!  We must hate, we must fear, we must loathe, we must fight, we must argue, we must be perverse, we must cause chaos, and we must fall to our knees in despair because we know that death is near!”

            Oyeneda’s cloak whirled around as he went back up the stairs.

            “I have had enough of you.  It is time that you were shown what little value your claims have.”  At that moment the doors behind opened and agents brought in two familiar faces.  It was my wife, Corya and Brian Marsendale.  They stood on either side of me.  Oyeneda suddenly had a gleeful smile on his face. 

            “So what is this, Oyeneda?”  I asked. “Is this some kind of joke?” 

            “No joke, no trick.  It’s what you would call a choice.  Very simply, you can choose life or death.  If you choose life, all charges will be dropped and you and your beautiful wife will be placed into the preserver, spend eternity together forever, and you will forget you even had these feelings.”  He smiled pleasantly and then frowned grimly.  “Or you can choose death.  You can embrace the one you claim you’ve “chosen” to love"this man who is to be executed for his volatile crimes against society.  If that be your choice, you and he will be put to death and made examples of.  Corya will unfortunately die as well without a mate.  You can then truly die with your imperfections intact.  So, I leave this choice to you.  Choose wisely and…love will provide.”

            I looked to my right at my wife.  Her red-haired bob parted to show her sparkling smile, like a blissfully unaware debutante. 

            “We’ll be happy together, won’t we, Gordy?  We’ll never have to be lonely again.  If I lost you…I would just die!”  If she wasn’t smiling, she would be in tears, and I could see it.  Somewhere inside of her, she knew what was happening.  “Aren’t you happy?”

            I then looked to my left at Brian.  His blue eyes trembled as his lips remained firm as he tried desperately not to show himself.  The memories of our one and true moment together would be all that was left to hold onto before it was erased by a gun or a bedeviled contraption claiming it was the solution to human happiness.

           

           I stood resolute, standing before the man who was to carry out my

sentence who would never understand the power he wielded or the

complexities he fought against.  I wept for my choices and the future of

love.      

Author's Note

Take a few moments for a review if you're ever stopping by. I don't bite.

Reviews

[Delmar Cooper]

I enjoyed this story. I enjoyed Orwell's 1984 too. And of course this piece seems a tribute to that novel, but you have added value in the second half that made it more interesting to this reader. I really like that "Lady or Tiger" choice your MC is compelled to make. All in al this was an enjoyable reading experience. Thank You.

Cooper

[feyfae]

"You cannot make love perfect.  It has always been imperfect because we ourselves are imperfect!"
I love that. When I first started reading this I was thinking "This isn't going to catch my interest at all" but I was hooked after the 3rd paragraph. I can't wait to see who Gordon chooses.
Keep writing, Feyfae☆