B: The Seminar

Jenny was off again, going on and on about her children. Whatever
the seminar topic was she'd find a way to use her 'model' children as
examples. There were three of the little bastards: Tom, Sally and Adam.
Apparently they were all very clever and exceptionally popular, three
little shining stars in the sky of Heaven.

It was Tuesday morning and we'd already had to sit through the latest
graphic installation of Jenny's diary: the serious stroke her mother
had suffered two days ago, how she'd had to stay over the night before
to look after her, how she'd never spent a night away from the children
before, how she missed them and worried. She had verbal diarrhoea and
no paper to wipe with.

She had rushed in with a pair of huge bag, ten minutes late, blathering
about her troubles in that smug 'aren't I so strong' way of hers,
knocking papers from Mellish's desk in the process. He picked them up
and tried to carry on with the seminar. Despite her mutterings and
whispers Mellish managed to get back into the swing of things, dragging
us into a 'healthy debate' about the whole nature/nurture thing.
Eventually Mellish couldn't stop Jenny having her say again. She was
practically chomping at the bit. It was one of her favourite
topics.

'Well . . . behaviour must be a genetic and biological thing because
I've treated all three of my children the same and they're all very
different people. If it was an environment thing then surely they'd all
be the same?' She insisted on calling her children 'people'.
Sometimes I wanted to get up and scream at her

'You've treated them all the same?' The skinny bitch in the corner
chipped in.

'Yes. David and I thought it was very important not to seem to favour
any of them; we thought that it . . .'

'So have you brought them up as boys or girls?' I couldn't help it. A
wave of smans passed through the room. Even sour faced Mellish
grinned, pretending to find something amusing in his godawful lecture
notes. I'd noticed that he'd started getting pissed off with Jenny
going on about her kids all of the time. He was one for 'group
seminars', actually thinking it was important for everyone to make a
contribution. He wasn't happy with Jenny waffling on and on about what
Tom, Sally and Adam had eaten for tea and what books they were
reading.

'You know what I mean. We've tried not to give one what we wouldn't
give the others.'

'We know what you mean Jenny.' Mellish was back to his boring fucking
drawl again. 'But, if you have standard rules for all children, does
that not introduce the possibility of raising a generation of
standardised children.'

'Erm . . .' Jenny was stuck for words. I suddenly warmed to the old
bastard.

'You cannot assume that what is good for one child is automatically
good for another. That could easily lead to repression of
individuality.' Mellish was getting well into it now; his face
reddened, great saucers of sweat started forming under his arms and his
oversized glasses began to slip down his nose.

'But . . .' Jenny was completely lost. She looked around at the rest
us, we just stared back, all secretly wanting to see her squirm.
Mellish carried on.

'In the end we'll just end up with a vacant and subservient workforce.
Just like robots. Every action will be a robotic action.' His eyes
flashed as he jumped to his feet. 'It starts with the little things.
Standards. Levels. Everyone wants the same thing: a common goal, a
common function. We live to breed, not to serve. But we want to serve.
We want to be mechanical. So what do we do? We teach our children to be
like us. We encourage them to be bland human beings who live to fulfil
a simple function. Just like robots.'

Mellish walked quickly to his desk and pulled his briefcase from the
drawer. He fiddled with the combination locks for a second, muttering
to himself about robots. His eyes lit up as he flipped open the
case.

'If children are brought up as robots then they will eventually become
robots.' His voice was suddenly booming around the room, as if he'd
installed surround sound into his thorax.

He looked directly at Jenny, a crazy piercing gaze. 'It's people like
you that create monsters.'

He took a video cassette from the briefcase and inserted it into the
player. He looked towards the door and, seeing that it was unlocked,
walked over and locked it. He smiled and moved back to the desk. 'I
think that you may find the contents of this tape very interesting. I
shouldn't really show it to you but . . . what the hell! Jenny, I think
you'll finally understand my point.'

The television flickered to life but there was no sound or picture.
Just complete darkness.

Then a flame appeared, it looked like someone using a lighter to find
their way. The sound of someone breathing. You could just make out that
it was the interior of a house but no more than that. Suddenly there
was an explosion of light and a piercing scream. The light disappeared
but the was the sound of childish whimpering. Mellish stopped the
video.

'Now then class. What do you think has just happened there?' Every face
remained blank. 'Jenny? Do you have a contribution to make? Would you
like to tell me what you think was happening??'

She turned red. 'Erm . . . I don't know. Was it some kind of burglar or
something? I couldn't really make out that much.' She was squirming so
much it looked as though she was going to piss herself.

Mellish cleared his throat. 'That,' he started, 'is actual footage of
the savage murder of a child. The killer taped himself doing it.' There
was a sharp intake of breath around the room.

'Fucking hell!' The chubby girl in the corner looked quite excited.
'I've heard about these videos on the internet!'

'What's interesting about the video is the reaction of the child.'
Mellish had everybody's attention. 'Just watch this and see what you
think.' He dimmed the lights and pressed play.

Again it was very dimly lit but you could hear the breathing of the
man, harsh and rasping as he crept through the dark house. He passed
through what looked like a doorway before a gentle click was audible.
The screen was then flooded with light and you could see the figure of
a child kneeling in front of the camera, crying, begging for mercy. It
was a girl, about eight years of age, clothed only by a ragged sheet.
Tears streamed down her face as she cried, snot pouring from her nose
and mingling with the tears. Her hands were tied behind her back and
you could see the pain in her face.

'Please, don't . . . please . . . someone help me . . . please . . .
I've done nothing wrong . . . please, just leave me alone . . . please
help me . . .'

A fist appeared from off camera and hit the girl in the face, breaking
her nose. The fist hit her again, smashing fragments of bone back into
her skull. She started screaming and fell to the floor. The camera
followed and watched as the fist continued to connect with the little
girls face.

'Please help me . . . MUMMY . . . please . . . MUMMY HELP ME PLEASE!!'
The more the girl screamed the more intense the violence towards
became. The assailant balanced the camera on a tripod to film and set
about kicking and stamping on the girl. Blood seeped from the girls
broken body, her screams became whimpers and eventually the protests
stopped. The screen went dead.

'Just like fucking robots.' The class turned around as one. Mellish was
stood behind Jenny, his left arm pulled tightly around her neck. His
right hand held a neat looking pistol, pointed directly at Jenny's
right hand temple.

'The other two little cunts were just as bad. Whining fucking maggots.
But I had to do it. I had to shut them up.'

Jenny looked like she was going to pass out, her eyes rolling in their
sockets and her body jerking as though she were having a fit.

'Their daddy wasn't much fucking good. Mind you, I don't think he'll be
teaching his kids the wrong thing any more,' he laughed, 'I've got that
on video as well, if you'd like to see it.'

Mellish's face had a twisted, demonic appearance, sweat gushing from
his temples and he hardly seemed able to speak without spitting
everywhere. 'Do you see what I mean class? Do you see what she created?
She created a monster . . . she repressed individuality and she created
a monster!'
Jenny fell to the floor unconscious and Mellish brandished the pistol
at the rest of the class. We all jumped back a couple of inches at
once

'Stand up!' We all stood up. 'If you would like to stay and witness
what I'm about to do with our Jenny here then you are more than
welcome. Just stay where you are. However, if you object then, please,
go at once. I don't want any fucking time wasters in here today. And
close the door on your way out.'

I picked up my file and bag and headed towards the door. Mellish
grunted. 'Just like fucking robots.'