Servi et Domini(Aleksander Petkevič) Servi et domini

It was a cold and foggy day. Matthew felt it in his bones even before opening his eyes, before opening his curtains, before opening his window. It reminded him that he was not young anymore. First white strands had crept onto his temples, and his beard resembled rime more than hair. His daily routine, step by step, led him to this inevitable glance outside. Into the fog. The fog! There were few things Matthew hated with such passion as this simple phenomenon. The fog always reminded him of three things. First, of autumn, this insufferable time of the year, when everything is in agony. Second, again, of his age. And third, of those rare occasions from his distant childhood when he and his aunt would travel far and wide throughout the country each summer, and see fog as only a mysterious little obstacle among the immeasurable fields. The times that would never return.

Matthew did not have many friends. He was quite a loner. Many considered him insane. He did not care much about his reputation, but he still would shed a tear or two hearing people giggling behind this back. Oh, if only they knew his story… as well as their own. When he was young, he would see a lot of properly insane people – yes, he knew much about them. Enough to tell himself apart from them. Enough to see that he, himself, was perfectly sane. It was the world that had grown insane, many decades before. In more ways than one. Generally, many would agree on his general point, but few accepted his very own perspective on it. Matthew knew something few others did… no, that was preposterous. He knew what few others wanted to see, yet it was as clear as a day to him.

***

It began decades earlier, when Matthew was still in school, sixth grade or so. One night, while he was lying in his bed, failing to fall asleep, he heard some unusual noises. There would be many noises of various kinds in his parents’ house, and one more would not be surprising on its own. Even though it was a beeping noise and every electronic device was off, it could be something in the neighbouring houses, on the street, and whatnot. Matthew silently crept into his parents’ room and elsewhere in the house, but found, to his puzzlement, that his parents were sleeping, and everything was silent. He went back to his room. He heard it again. A series of beeping noises. In a pattern. Beep-beep-beep bip-bip-bip beep-beep. Matthew strained his memory in an attempt to recognise the code. Three long ones, three short ones… Was that SOS? Almost… but no, there were clearly only two long ones at the end. S-O-M. Matthew had no idea about the meaning of this code. He suddenly understood that the sound was moving, the source changing its location. He decided to track it. He hearkened, trying to determine the direction. He caught it! It was coming from behind the wardrobe. Up and down, up and down. Matthew slowly walked in that direction. Then the floor made a screeching noise underneath. Not too loud, but clearly audible in the room. The beeping suddenly stopped. And then, after a pause, it continued further away, behind the mirror. Matthew silently walked towards it and abruptly took the mirror off the hook. He saw something crawling on the wall. He walked back to his bed, took his phone and his slipper and returned to the suspicious spot. The light of his phone showed him a remarkably ugly spider. And it began beeping again.

Arachnophobia and utter puzzlement caused Matthew to slam the spider with his slipper. Even more bizarrely, it began flashing purple. Instead of beeping, some fragments of words and sentences could be heard:
…morrow. Don’t care…
…what about you?
…lections are going to be a disas…
…honey, …re you ..gry?
In utter horror, Matthew recognised his parents’ voices. He shrieked and slammed again.
His parents did not take long to run into his room, terrified.
But nothing serious had happened then. At least that was what Dad said. He carefully examined the spider, listened to his son’s report and concluded it must have been some kind of an idiotic prank from those just-like-their-father Douglas twins across the road. Eavesdropping, those delinquents! As those two never admitted to doing it, Dad simply threw the broken bug away and forgot about it. So did Matthew.

***

Few years later, when Matthew was sixteen, he was madly in love with Julia. Her hair was like wheat at the harvest, her eyes were green like jade… He actually wrote her a poem about that, but she just laughed. Women are evil, cried Matthew then. Women are evil, bitterly laughed Matthew ever since. He never recovered from that heartbreak. It was not very deep, no. It was just that his heart broke just before it happened, and after it he was further scarred, until and into his old age.

It happened on a completely normal day. As a sixteen-years-old, Matthew was full of energy and eager to help. He participated in all kinds of activities, and above all, volunteered. It was only expected that he would help this new charity, Servi Multorum (or serfs, as they were jokingly referred to), when it arose. Their futuristic programme captivated him, body and soul, and he kept talking about it. He even persuaded many of his colleagues to join him that day. Even Julia went, if only to see what all the fuss was about.

They all went to a big, white building with many windows. Matthew thought that sunlight was not enough to describe that place. He called the building a sunbath in his thoughts. He could not wait to start helping. They waited for some time, and then a nice, middle-aged woman called Mrs Stevenson came out to meet them. She was a ray of sunshine in this already sun-coated sunbath. Matthew liked the word sun, and even more he liked what it described. He introduced them to Mrs Stevens and asked what they could help with. She kindly asked them to help sort the various food items their charity had prepared for the people in need.

It all went remarkably well, everyone was cheerful. Even Julia’s presence did not hurt that much. Matthew laughed at his friend’s latest joke and excused himself. He tried to find a toilet. He went upstairs. He was not quite sure which room toilet was in. After a moment, he decided to check the door furthest down the corridor. It led to more doors, and he got quite lost. Finally he decided to risk opening one more of them. He did not knock, just silently opened it.
It was some kind of a utility room. Mrs Stevenson was there, turned away from the door. There was an open pot or whatever it was, and her hand hovered just above it. She was pouring something right from her hand?

Hello! loudly said Matthew. Mrs Stevenson abruptly turned back, and looked at him with… was it concealed hate? Did he make it up? He did not remember.
What drew his attention was her right hand. Something was crawling all over it, from fingertips to the elbow. Myriads of little somethings, like small grains of sand that had come alive. Some of them were falling into that big pot. Some orbited around her hand in spiral motions! And above her elbow, he saw three odd symbols. After all these years, Matthew only recalled a vague description he had made on the spot: lightning bolt – diamond with legs – kissing flags. Fear and anger made his heart beat faster. No longer concealing her hate, Mrs Stevenson lunged at Matthew with a kitchen knife in her left hand. On a reflex, he dodged and made his escape.
Matthew ran. He ran downstairs and shouted. Something like The witch! The witch is pouring the living sand into the food!
Nobody believed him. Nobody then, and nobody after.

***

His parents had grounded him. He was supposed to sit and think about childish fantasies and publicly smearing a company’s image, especially such a great charity’s.
He escaped. He asked his best friend Johnny to take him away from this city for a while on his convertible. To his aunt. She would believe him.
She did not. Johnny, who rejected his story too, dropped him by her house. But she said she was ashamed of his behaviour, that his parents had told her everything, and that she wanted him to leave, for his own good.
Tears ran down Matthew’s cheeks. He had not cried so heartbreakingly for many years. He felt alone. He took his suitcase out of Johnny’s car and slowly walked to a hotel several miles away.

***

He never returned home. He avoided his aunt until her death. Not because he resented his family, no. He was afraid. He would often see the face he initially saw as bright, horribly distorted in inexplicable hate. He would often wake up at night and hearken to every little sound.

Matthew survived by working on odd jobs. He stayed in the hotel on his savings, then paid rent. Finally, Evan, the only friend he made at that time, offered him to move to his place and help cover the bills. He did not believe Matthew’s story, but suspected that his fears are somehow, somewhat grounded. That was also when Matthew got a fast job. He had mastered several trades by that point, and was more than ready to work seriously.

***

Matthew had spent thirty years away from his family. For the most part, he had Evan by his side. Evan helped him retain his sanity. Although at times he wondered if Evan himself was real. Evan would always joke that he felt very real. Too real, at times, but c’est la vie. Even after Evan got married to Rosie, he would still allow Matthew to live with them. And after Emily was born. And Marigold. And Christopher.

Over the years, Matthew could not deny his life was becoming less lonely with all those new people. At the same time, he saw many things that he would rather have forgotten. Food, moving on the plate without wind or insects. Spiders that seemed to shine in the sun. All of this reinforced him in his thought, that the world had grown insane, in this particular way in addition to all the others.

***

That particular cold and foggy autumn day was the day he was born. Specifically, his forty-sixth birthday. Matthew had reminisced about his past until the very evening. Then he decided to act.
He walked outside and headed to a nearby pub. He would occasionally spend some time and money there, but made no friends, rather casual acquaintances over beer and equally casual topics. This time, it was going to be different. He ordered whiskey and started talking to the bartender. He told him everything. The bartender seemed unimpressed, but he was bored enough to listen to all of it. All Matthew has lived through, all his woes, all his fears, all his hopes.

A young, elegant man, presumably a student at some prestigious university, entered the pub. He sat beside Matthew and started drinking. Matthew did not spare him any part of his story, either. The youngster could not quite hold his liquor, and at some point Matthew needed to prevent him from beating the bartender up. The latter seemed rather amused. In the process, the student’s sleeve got ripped. And then Matthew saw it.
ᛊᛟᛗ was tattooed above the youngster’s elbow. Matthew managed to control the urge to shout or run. He got an idea.

***

They arrived at Evan’s flat together, the student struggling to walk. Evan was away with his family on a vacation, which was perfect. Matthew helped the utterly drunken youth sit down on the sofa and started asking him questions. First ones were innocuous, but as he went, he started investigating about all of it. The spider, the living sand, the tattoo... And the youth talked, albeit barely coherently!

From what Matthew managed to understand, Servi Multorum was not a charity. It was a governmental organisation, if seemingly dissociated from the politics, aimed at surveillance. No, not cameras in parks. The spiders were mini robots, eavesdropping on citizens. The sand was nanorobots added to food, sending information on various processes inside human bodies as well as their exact location, which needed regular replacement.
And why would you do that? – asked Matthew.
Why?! – the student was entirely sober. Because we can. Because we enjoy controlling you wretches. Because we want to know every step you take. Because we want to know which politicians you praise, which ones you hate. As if you decided anything! Press one button, and those little things inside your body turn on you!
The young man laughed, and his laughter was as vile as his words.
Who are you? – asked Matthew again, realising he is not afraid anymore. The SOM? What does it even stand for?
I might as well tell you now – the young man smiled without joy. SOM stands for Servi Multorum, but in English. Servants of Many. The same letters are tattooed in runes on our bodies. People think we serve many, that is them. But it is them who serve many, that is us.
And you are telling me this because…? – Matthew remained calm.
The youth lunged at him with a dagger in his hand. Overpowering the older man, the youngster put the blade to Matthew’s throat.
…you are going to kill me? – ended Matthew, as calm as he could.
Kill you?! – laughed the student, this time sincerely. Not at all. You will talk for us. There are many crazy, crazy people on the Internet, people like you, who say we are the villains, but they cannot know our secrets. But you! You are going to do this on your new blog. Tell them everything you know. Even retell them this very conversation. And then nobody will doubt such stories are just madman’s chatter!
And if I refuse? – Matthew was unfettered.
He punched the dagger out of the youth’s hand and prepared to strike him with his other hand, but suddenly felt himself on the ground, wriggling in excruciating pain.
One button - repeated the youngster.
They both prepared to leave, Matthew still shaking from the pain he had just felt. The student proudly carved ᛊᛟᛗ on the table before they went out.

***

Evan was worried about his friend. Matthew was nowhere to be found, there was no information about him in the house, and he did not pick up the phone. His wife showed him the strange symbols carved onto their table, and he could have sworn they were familiar. A quick Google search confirmed it. Those crazy somehackers from the web who called Servi Multorum a totalitarian tool and recommended bizzare ways to counter it… They had posted these symbols as well. So Matthew was right! Right from the beginning. Evan needed to protect his family and the future. As his body was being immersed into great pain, he thought of those bizarre advices again. His hand clenched on a taser in his pocket. With his full force, struggling, he took it out and shocked himself. The pain had ended. Evan stood up, shaking, and smiled. He was not alone.

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