MOLECULES

The reddish brick walls were covered by snapshots of sportsmen, actors, musicians and one politician. They were the only decorations in the room.
He was sitting on one of the two stools present in the room. There was no electricity. That didn’t trouble him at the moment.
He untied the band around his forearm and dropped it beside the syringe on the floor, nearby a black diary.
He sat back and waited for the preparation to take effect.
Blood was lazily oozing out of the puncture site, but that didn’t bother him either. He stared at the candle, then at the spoon on which he had boiled the mixture over the candle flame. He then lifted his eyes to stare at the pictures on the walls. He barely saw through his now slightly constricted pupils.
He was feeling a little warmer.
His eyes rested on the image of the Minister of Development, Honourable Moses Mashela.
Everyone called him “The Conductor”. He knew many far away places. No one had really asked him his real name, except Kimweri.
He was feeling much better now.
It was moments like these that he craved for. Moments when he didn’t long for the rare love of his mother. It didn’t matter anymore that he lacked attention from his busy father. Moments when it was quiet - his parents were not arguing, especially not about him.
He had heard them many times – long after they had both gone to sleep.
Now it was quiet.
He treasured these moments – when for a while the invisible walls broke down and he was released from prison. All it took were molecules – tiny and powerful. He wished he could stay free forever, but he knew reality would always come back to catch up with him. He would be back in prison.
He had an occasional prison visitor – Tumaini. She would come to visit and talk to him. She knew his real name. She tried, he knew, to stop him from using the molecules. He just couldn’t stop, he had decided.
He knew they were bad, yet he needed them. He knew they could kill, but he lived better with them. He even felt shame he used them, but he wasn’t able to give them up.
It was so calm now. He felt a soft breeze brushing his skin.
There was slight pain from inside his chest though.
The door was burst open. Three young men walked in. Big C went straight to look under the mattress.
“Oh, no”, Big C remarked
“What?”
“This fool has used all our dope”
“What?” Klassix screamed.
“That’s too much dope to use at once. It could kill him”, Big C said.

“I am going to kill him! He can’t just consume my dope”, Kimweri said angrily.
He went and grabbed him by the neck.
Conductor stared blankly at him, seemingly unaware of him, or anything else.
Kimweri froze, then turned to look at them.
“He is cold”, he announced.
Big C rushed to check him.
“Let’s get him to a hospital”.

Klassix closed the black diary and waited as the phone rang at the other end.
“Hello. Honourable Mashela’s residence” a calm voice spoke.
“Excuse me”.
“Moses Mashela’s residence, I am Mrs. Mashela.”
“Does Tumaini stay there?”
“Yes, she does.”
“Tell her to come to Amana hospital. Her friend is in critical condition”.
“What shall I say is the name of her friend?”
“The Conductor”.
“What?”
Klassix covered the mouthpiece. “What’s his real name?”
Kimweri told him. He spoke into the mouthpiece.
“What? My son? Is he alright?” The voice had panicked.