Routines and Rebels

Chantal Schaul, 2001

In a village not so far away and at a time not that long ago there once was an old wise man called Dean Goldlock. He had been observing his fellow villagers for a long time. Day in, day out, all he saw around him were glum faces and stoic features. It seemed to Dean that his co-inhabitants were at the mercy of every tiny external event that disrupted their otherwise happy existences. The relentless stabs of misery and hardship that kept hailing down on the villagers without warning ruled their fates and ate up their hopes and dreams.

One day, Dean read a small advert in the national newspaper about a man who called himself a routine-maker and claimed to spread happiness and bliss by installing any kind of desired routine amongst communities. This routine, whatever it was, would be designed to provide unhappy people with something to hold on to and rely on. The certainty of the routine would turn even the most paranoid and unstable subject into a confident, trusting and harmoniously happy human being.

Without telling anyone about his discovery, Dean secretly contacted the routine maker, who promptly paid a visit to the afflicted village. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, still young, with long blond hair which had become a second self to him since childhood. As it was, his mother’s scissors had been extremely blunt and inadequate to cut hair as opulent as his. He had always kept his hirsute cranial profusion restrained in a ponytail, so that his sight did not get obstructed by it. To further aid his powers of perception, he wore glasses, which endowed his eyes with an eagle-like precision.

The routine-maker introduced himself as Bjenna, a name, he explained, that had been born out of his mother’s unwillingness to give up a name she had had in stock for a potential girl: Jenny. She combined this with the name originally intended for a potential boy – Barnaby – and came up with Bjenna. Bjenna did not want to reveal his surname because he wished to remain anonymous. He also requested utter secrecy of the whole routine scheme in front of the villagers, for it could only work if it came across as god-given and not as man-made. Dean agreed to all these restrictions.

After exploring the village and its inhabitants and scrutinizing their lives in detail, Bjenna devised the most appropriate routine to make them all happy. He would set up a weekly clubbing scheme designed for all ages, including music from all eras and providing inexpensive drinks for all tastes, called “Low-cost Conglomeration Routine”, in short LCR. In the LCR, people would be able to unwind, socialize, dress up or down, drink and be merry, be loud, find mates for a short while or even for life, and, most importantly, leave their worries at home for one night. They would have a day each week to look forward to and it would give a purpose to their lives. The small minority of people who can only be happy by working and organizing got the opportunity to work inside the LCR, so to feel important by contributing to their fellow villagers’ welfare.

The wise man immediately gave Bjenna’s plans a green light. As he was very old and there had never been anything in the village to spend money on, he had saved an immense sum, which he now donated for the LCR cause. As Bjenna had to stay under cover, he picked a very ambitious and trustworthy villager named Toby and sent him a letter saying the government had picked him to organise a weekly event called LCR, for which he would be paid generously. The letter contained all the necessary instructions, so that nothing could possibly be misunderstood. Toby instantly became very enthusiastic about the whole plan, gave up his oxcart driver’s job and dedicated his whole heart to the LCR. Within a month everything was set up and a huge building had sprung from the ground to host the weekly event.

At first skeptical, the villagers did not take long to develop a deep love for the LCR. They started to look forward to each Thursday, for this was the day that had been chosen by Bjenna, for no apparent reason, and some of them even designed LCR calendars to enable them to better count the days up to the next event. Accordingly to Bjenna’s plan, the happy routine alleviated the miserable lives of the villagers and provided them with a reliable weekly happiness scheme. For some it even restored a long lost meaning to their existence. The villagers’ faces lost their gloom and their features slowly perked up from their downward position, then gradually, over the lapse of a couple of months, developed smiles and sparkly eyes that reflected new hopes and dreams. The LCR had been a full success.

Bjenna visited the village each week to check upon the smooth unfolding of the LCR. He tried to efface himself as much as possible and never talked to anyone unless he was spoken to. His appearance was constant, although solitary, and he became such a regular accessory that no one questioned his presence, if they noticed it at all. Toby was under constant control without even knowing it. He turned out to be a very reliable organizer and never messed anything up, or secretly tried to gain personal profit. He had been chosen well.

The village had become perfectly happy within the course of three months. There was, however, one man who could not abandon his miserable self or bear to see everyone around him happy and sparkly. His name was Shark Sheerer. He was in his late twenties and he had always felt disadvantaged by life. To smile meant self-betrayal to him. Through life-long facial misery, his skin had become droopy and saggy. He had massive under-eye bags and his neck had lost all its elasticity and hung down like that of a ninety-year old woman. Because Shark Sheerer never exerted the muscles in his face, his flesh began to tingle and needed a lot of scratching to be appeased. This, in turn, caused serious skin-flaking, which he ended up using as a means to set up his reputation as a loner. His abundance of allergies and digestive problems provided him with another justification to stay away from his fellow people.

Despite all his physical deficiencies, Shark Sheerer had became the object of affection of a village girl. Out of pure curiosity, he visited the LCR one day, after it had been running for about a year. Unable to display a smile on his face, he had soon been abandoned by most clubbers. He was drinking too much, which made him talk to a girl called Pigonia. Her mother loved begonias and had slightly transformed the name of the flower for her newly born baby-girl, also taking into consideration her pig nose. Now, twenty years on, Pigonia was an attractive girl, apart from her nose, square features and bad skin. She was flattered when Shark, a mature man after all, flirted with her and was already sure of her victory, when, suddenly, Shark redirected his attention towards another girl, slightly older and taller than Pigonia, named Slowdonia.

Slowdonia was a perfectly intelligent individual, apart from her slowness. She took a while to make up her mind or to form opinions or to simply notice things in general. Therefore, when Shark suddenly clung to her, she thought nothing bad of it and continued dancing with the half of her body that was unoccupied. Pigonia, meanwhile, stormed outside the building in a mad rage because her man had been stolen from her. She was inconsolable and swore on her grandmother’s grave that, not only would she conquer Shark Sheerer, but also take bitter revenge on Slowdonia.

In the morning, Shark, refueled by the LCR experience, but unwilling to admit it to himself, decided that he would rebel against its policy by founding a “Droopy Face Society”, in short DFS. He cut his long hair so that its weight could no longer pull up his facial features and straighten his droopy mouth. Then he designed a layout for DFS flyers to advertise for his campaign. It read thus:

“Join the DFS and show your disapproval of silly entertainments. Be daring! Be a rebel! Be a man on a mission! Cut your hair and stop smiling! Practise non-violent facial manipulation! I am your man!!! Shark Sheerer.”

Shark distributed his flyers in the village streets, but all of them ended up in the gutter. He got very depressed and stopped leaving the house. He kept sending messages to Slowdonia, the only person in the world he had talked to within the last three years, apart from Pigonia of course, but he decided he didn’t like her shrill voice. Slowdonia was too kind-hearted to ignore Sheerer’s messages, although their clichéd nature made her cringe. She visited him a few times but he bored her so much that she couldn’t even leave when she wanted.

One day, Slowdonia could not bring herself to keep Shark company any longer. When he realized that she had abandoned him, he visited another LCR in a desperate attempt to gain her back. As soon as Slowdonia perceived his droopy features moving towards her inside the dim LCR (the building had come to he called by the same name as the function), she looked around for help. The first person she laid eyes on was Bjenna. His was, of course, a familiar face. She ran towards him and flutteringly introduced herself by saying: “I am Slowdonia. I see you here every week.” Then she ran out of topics. Bjenna, despite his desire for anonymity, looked at her kindly and replied: “Yeah. I’m Bjenna.” Then he ran out of anonymous subject matters. After all, he could not betray his function as a routine-maker.

Unexpectedly, Shark Sheerer joined the pair, assuming that Bjenna was a long-term friend of Slowdonia’s. Shark addressed Bjenna and spoke carefully, so as not to uplift his slumping features too much: “Am I taller than my girlfriend?” Slowdonia could not understand these fatal words because the music was too overpowering and loud. Bjenna, out of pity for the little man, nodded. Now that he was no longer the only interlocutor for the girl, he felt that the best thing to do was to disappear yet again, and he left Slowdonia alone with Shark Sheerer.

Pigonia, who had observed everything from a dark LCR corner, was brooding about how to kill Slowdonia. She would follow her out to the meat oblate cart and queue just in front of her. She then would buy a potato and dandelion oblate (because she knew that Slowdonia was a vegetarian), quickly and inconspicuously poison it with a dangerous, unknown chemical, turn around and say to Slowdonia: “Oh my God, I forgot that I am on a diet! Would you like my oblate for free? Oh, do take it, otherwise it will just end up in the gutter.” Slowdonia would then eat the poisoned oblate and die.

Pigonia did not shrink from putting her plan into practise. However, when she turned around to offer her oblate to Slowdonia, Shark Sheerer had pushed into the queue and was trying to forcefully kiss her, which had caused her to recoil and bend backwards to an almost right angle, so that Pigonia could not find her. She had already announced in a shrill voice that she was on a diet, however, and had also offered her oblate free of charge. A voice nearby said: “I will have it. I haven’t had dinner yet and I left my purse at home.”

It was the voice of Dean Goldlock. He had been in the LCR for security reasons. Pigonia tried to hold on to the oblate, but then thought that the loss of an old man was less severe than that of a virile youth. So she handed her oblate over to Dean. As soon as Dean had bitten into the oblate full-heartedly, he exclaimed in a disappointed tone: “Oh no! It’s not meat!” and then died a horrible death.

None of the LCR visitors had the slightest idea that the death of Dean Goldlock had sealed their fate. The only person who realized the full extent of the disaster was Bjenna. But he had to keep a straight face and postpone his consternation. The LCR would be doomed, he knew, because the money source had dried out. And all Bjenna could do now was to arrange one last LCR and then vanish forever.

While the veiled tragedy took its course inside Bjenna’s head, Pigonia had gone home in a rage and Slowdonia had finally managed to escape from Shark Sheerer. His obstinance had filled her with a deep aversion, almost repugnance, against him. At the same time, she realized that she had, head over heels and without going back, fallen in love with Bjenna. As was usual for Slowdonia, it had taken her a whole year to discover her new affection. But now that the seed had been planted, it thrived bountifully and within one night only, developed into a profound love.

She walked the streets of the village for three days, in the hope of meeting him. On the fourth day she gave up all hopes, but, as she was running towards her grandmother’s house to kiss her goodbye (she was lying on her deathbed and due to die any second) she saw Bjenna emerging from a side-lane. He saw her from the comer of his eye, promptly stopped and greeted her. She stopped, too, but the combination of her hurry and the unexpectedness of the event confused her and she could only stammer: “Hi! How are you?”, to which he replied: “Tired.” They bid farewell and she dashed to her grandmother’s place, just in time before the latter exhaled her last breath.

One factor, which Slowdonia and no one else knew about, but which had a not inconsiderable influence on the events that were to unfold soon, was that Bjenna was not the same on every day of the week. Had it not been for Thursdays, he would have been a completely normal human being. But Thursdays were different, and the reason for this slight anomaly lay buried deep within Bjenna’s childhood.

His parents had owned a chain manufacturing business and each Thursday they delivered chains of all sizes and lengths all over the country. On those days, Bjenna was left with a neighbour called Profundia Zackie. She was an old woman, a witch some said, who welcomed people of all ages and backgrounds to come and see her and moan about their miseries. Every Thursday, little Bjenna had to listen to these depressing testimonials. In order for him not to get affected by all this gloom and sorrow, Profundia cast a spell on the boy which sealed his emotions for that day of the week only, and which made him unreceptive to any outside vibes. On Thursdays, nothing and no one could disturb or influence or manipulate him. Unfortunately, one day Profundia died unexpectedly and could never lift the spell, so that Bjenna carried it into adulthood.

When Bjenna grew older and more mature, he slowly figured out ways in which to use his Thursday numbness to be useful and help people. He started setting up happy routines for his fellow people, which only worked with Bjenna remaining an outside agent, as the routines had to appear non-compulsory and anti-dictatorial. His Thursday affliction meant that he would not be tempted to get involved with people, and he would not feel deprived of human contact either.

According to his professional principles, Bjenna had resolved to never set foot inside the village, unless it was a Thursday. To become friendly with the villagers would be fatal, he knew. But now that Dean was dead, he had to break into his house and discard all the documents that connected him to the LCR. It had to happen without any delay, despite the fact that it was a Monday.

During one of these disposal trips, Bjenna fatally crossed paths with Slowdonia. On the spot, there and then, he immediately discovered his passionate feelings towards her and fell head over heels in love with her. He ran away and, as soon as he was home safely, he chained himself to the wall for three days. He had to hold out until Thursday, so that he could not run towards Slowdonia and let the catastrophe take its course.

The last LCR arrived and was characterized by an overwhelming mixture of exhilaration and despair. The villagers tried to make the most of it, but could not forget its finality and the impending emptiness and desolation. Bjenna was the only LCRer who was stable and in control. His infatuation for Slowdonia was firmly under control that day, and he encountered her a number of times without getting affected. She, however, not able to draw strength from any Thursday numbness and uncertain as to whether she would ever see him again, was ravaged by an inner turmoil. In addition to this, Shark Sheerer was hovering around outside the LCR, spying for her to come out. Pigonia, in her turn, was observing Shark from a distance, fantasizing about their potential togetherness.

Peeking into the LCR from time to time, Shark realized that Slowdonia’s interests were directed towards Bjenna, which made him boil. He decided to kill his adversary. But right then and there, the only obvious direction into which Shark Sheerer could funnel his fury was to lay out a new document for the DFS. He desperately needed followers so that he could become powerful and mighty. His new posters read thus:

“You are special (as am I!) Damn it, I have a lot to offer (As have you!) Follow me! Follow your instincts! Be a rebel and wear your misery on your face! You don’t need to act happy! Be as low as you want to be! Just be!”

Shark managed to get one follower from a neighbouring village. His name was Shteve Weedo. He had been an inmate in a mental institution for a few years and was now hanging out in front of the LCR. He was keen to start his political career in the DFS. Shark immediately instructed Shteve about the aims of the party and also about its philosophy: “DFS men are parasites. They absorb, observe, fill up. They want to invert the flow, create, flame, burst forth, vomit. But instead, they seethe, throb, reach a state of ecstatic despair, and display sagging facial features.” Shteve nodded and complied with the policies of the party.

Now that Shark Sheerer was no longer on his own, he jumped into action. His plan was to kidnap Slowdonia and take her to a secret cavern in which both could hibernate for a while. Shteve would bring them food every day. When, after a few years, they would have bred a family of seven, Shark could re-emerge from the cavern and practise his by then matured political philosophy together with his children, become famous and rule the world.

Shark acquired a speedy horse carriage and designated Shteve to be the driver, as Shark himself did not have a license. They drove to Slowdonia’s house in the middle of the night to abduct her. What they did not know, however, was that on exactly the same night Pigonia had sneaked into the same house in order to suffocate Slowdonia with a pillowcase. As soon as she heard Shark’s steps approaching, she hid inside the wardrobe. She thus witnessed how he fettered and gagged Slowdonia in her sleep and wheeled her out of the house and into the carriage. Pigonia followed the cart to the secret cavern that was located just outside the village. Then she dashed home to put on make-up and gold jewelry and smart clothes for, if she had to face Shark, she could hardly look like a potato peasant.

What none of them knew was that Bjenna, too, had witnessed the entire event. He had been about to leave the village for good, but had wanted one last glimpse of the object of his affection. He broke into Slowdonia house silently to behold her in her sleep, and, suddenly, he heard footsteps. While he was hiding behind the long heavy curtains and saw Pigonia entering the room with a pillowcase. He was about to jump forth from behind the curtains, when she sped off into the wardrobe. Noticing that he could not dash forward because his ponytail had become entangled in the meticulously coiled window handle, he had to stay put and watch Shark Sheerer’s devilish deeds from a distance.

When Bjenna had finally disentangled his abundant hair, everyone had left the room. Thankfully, his eagle-like sight helped him to catch up with them outside and follow them to the hidden cavern. Bjenna waited until Shteve had left and then crawled into the cavern without making any noise and hid behind a boulder. He discovered Shark and Slowdonia. She was still fettered and gagged, while Shark was explaining the layout of his cavern: “This is the sleeping place. I am afraid it is not stuffed with feathers, because I am allergic to them, but with skin flakes. But I can assure you that it is extremely comfortable. And now you will have to excuse me for a minute, I have to apply a special creme. Skin problems and spontaneity don’t go hand in hand, you know. Back in a tick.” With these words he disappeared into a hole.

Fast as lightning Bjenna jumped out from behind his boulder and freed Slowdonia. And as they gazed into each other’s eyes they perceived and recognized a profound requited love for each other, and could not help falling into each other’s arms. Too soon had they abandoned their guards, for Shark had forgotten his wash kit next to the sleeping place and had returned to fetch it, thus witnessing the lovers’ embrace. He grabbed a sharp carving knife, which he had brought for defense purposes, and approached Bjenna from behind.

What none of them knew was that, in the meantime, Pigonia had returned, fully made up and dressed in luxurious clothes. She was now hiding behind one of the many boulders. When she saw how the situation was unfolding, she resolved to contribute to the killing and take care of Slowdonia’s death. United in murder, Shark and her would have to become united in holy matrimony eventually.

Pigonia had brought a carving knife of her own and sneakily approached the embracing couple from behind Shark’s back, without any of the three noticing her presence. Shark was about to thrust his carving knife into Bjenna’s back when, suddenly, his nose started itching violently and he couldn’t help emitting a powerful sneeze. Had Pigonia known about Shark’s feather allergy, she would not have worn her real feather boa, for it drastically interfered with both their plans.

The sneeze shook Shark’s entire constitution, so that he dropped his knife. Bjenna whirled around, assessed the situation within a split second, and swiftly picked up the knife to prevent further harm. Pigonia was still keen on killing Slowdonia and hurled herself on top of her, knife in hand. Bjenna jumped up to stop the hysterical girl in mid-air, plucked the knife from her hands and threw both Shark and Pigonia into the sleeping lair. But when Shark came into full contact with the feather boa, he started to shake heavily and shed snowstorms of skin flakes, which were propelled through the lair by his heavy and continuous sneezing. Shark did not stop flaking until his bare bones were uncovered. When the flakes had finally settled, Bjenna and Slowdonia found his skeleton and Pigonia’s lifeless body. She had suffocated horribly under his flaky layers.

Bjenna and Slowdonia left the remains of the two creatures to rest inside the cavern and crawled out. Back in safety, Bjenna revealed his Thursday secret to her, and his identity as a routine-maker. She vowed complete and utter silence, and nothing stood in the way of their unison any more. They went to the nearest priest and got married instantly.

Slowdonia quickly got used to Bjenna’s emotional block on Thursdays, and an abundance of children sprang from their unison. Thankfully none of them inherited their father’s spell. Slowdonia became an indispensable help to her husband’s routine-making, and came up with lots of new ideas of how to improve the existing routines. She also invented a special charity so that the LCR could be re-installed. Before they finally retired, Bjenna and Slowdonia had set up enough routines to last for another millennium. By which time, another solution will have to be found against droopy faces.