She took a long cocktail glass from the cupboard, poured two fingers of gin, some tonic and filled the rest with ice. It was past midnight, her favorite time of the day. Her days were always beginning when other people's ended and that is maybe the original reason why she became so antisocial. It was simply a matter of shifts. Later on it became a matter of choice. She went to the living-room, dimmed the lights and lied down on the couch. Leonard Cohen was singing at the background 'We'll go no more a-roving' as she closed her eyes to watch the slide-show of her recent memories. It has been unexpectedly colorful, busy and delightful, much in conflict to her doric sanctuary of normality that she has been protecting herself into, to avoid the invasions of unexpectedness and unpredictability.
Warm, recent memories embraced her as she rewinded and fast-forwarded the events of the past few days and she suddenly felt inspired enough to choreograph her experiences in a hypothetical dance fantaisie of a future perfect. Right at the moment of a 'pas-de-deux' in a 'what if', the bell rang.
She jumped up in surprise as she was not expecting anyone, let alone that late at night. 'Who is it?', she asked and two voices in chorus answered "We are the hope-prevention police, please open the door, ma'm!". She reacted to the order without processing any thought (when we are cought by surprise and haste we do just about anything we are asked to) and a man and a woman dressed in executive suits and carrying briefcases entered her apartment with the invasive manner of authority. The two strangers started looking around in an interrogative way. "We are authorized by the state to prevent any hope-carrying thoughts contaminating the area and our headquarters have received a notice of hope contamination from your area ms." said formally the lady intruder.
"But I thought this was a hope detector-free apartment! I had no idea..", she uttered.
"That is irrelevant! All apartments now days have incorporated hope-detectors lady and you should be aware of that. Don't you follow the news? Don' t you know that hope becomes a perfectly wholesome certainty if you extract the element of doubt? it is your own doubt that has triggered our alarm system", said the hopebuster lady.
"But this doubt is what makes me dream. How can I fantasize without it?"
"You are not supposed to anyway! You are playing with dangerous elements which may harm your fellow citizens and provoke havoc to society."
"I thought that hope was that harmless thing with feathers..."
"You thought wrong! You probably read too much poetry and none of the morning papers! Hope is that thing with spikes that harms you and everyone else who comes in contact with you. It is explosive and shoots nails that can cause intercranial bleeding. I suggest you deliver us all your hope or else you will have to arrest you. Please cooperate with us lady, and we promise you that you will be thanking the system tomorrow for waking up hope-free"
"I guess I have no choice then. You can take away my hope"
"You are lucky you are not a frequent user and even more, that you do not sell it to others. We will make special note of that in our report, rest assured. Have a good, hopeless night ma'am"
'Thank you. It will not happen again, I' m sure..."
"and how sure, may I ask?"
"a hundred percent sure"
" Excellent! Total certainty. No doubt, no hope! I guess you have learned your lesson well. Have a peaceful, hopeless night ma'am"
Leonard Cohen was still singing at the background, as the hope police departed and she closed the door.
"Interesting that the man hopebuster did not utter a word throughout the incident. He was just nodding his head in agreement to his partner. Hope-management must be a female specialization in MTC (Ministry of Thought Control), I guess I must be thankful for not being addicted to hope and that music, alcohol and pain kilers are still legal", she thought and took a long sip from her gin and tonic.