[stylist] Crown of Thorns

[Jacobson, Shawn D]

Attached is my latest story.  I was going to submit it for last year's writing contest, but I got nervous because its racially charged; writing the story was something of a nervous making experience.  Besides, I think I blew through the 3,000 word limit anyway.

Please let me know what you think.  This is still a rough diamond, but I think there is a good story in here if I can refine it sufficiently.

Shawn

Crown of Thorns
By Shawn Jacobson

Ed pulled the electrodes from the head of the subject.
"What did you do that for?" asked Mr. Jones.  "This was just getting fun, and instructive".
"Safety reasons" Ed replied.  "I don't care how much we believe in this, we don't want anyone to have a heart attack.  Besides, the paperwork would be an absolute mess."
The subject stopped straining against his constraints.  "Oh, Wow!" he said with a convulsive shudder.
"If you can't deal with a routine traffic stop" said Mr. Jones, "you're going to have trouble with the rest of this."
"Routine" the subject asked?
"Like I said" Mr. Jones replied "routine."
Ed knew the details about the traffic stop being downloaded into the subject's head through the electrodes.  The original victim had ended up in the hospital for two weeks as a result of the beating.  So "routine" was something of a misnomer.  "How about we take a break" he said.
"Maybe we should ease up a bit" conceded Mr. Jones; "I have to remember that not everyone has had the joy of being spread-eagled on a police car with cops beating on them".  He then went back to the computer muttering to himself about he no one had ever stopped the beatings he had been through for no damned safety reasons.
"Tell you what" Mr. Jones continued, "How about we back off to something less stimulating like maybe a couple of job interviews gone wrong."  Eventually though, I want to take this guy to our Southern program; he should never think of the gallant South quite the same way ever again.  Then maybe we can move on to police dogs" he continued humming the "who let the dogs out" song as he locked his terminal.
The subject relaxed some and looked around.  There was Mr. Jones, a man whose shaved head gleamed with a dark splendor.  The subject wasn't sure what "bullet shaped" meant but he guess that Mr. Jones' head was bullet shaped.  He also didn't look like he could fit himself and his passionate rage at the white world, into his dress clothes, like, any minute, they would rip apart and something big and monstorous would explode from the wreckage.
Mr. Jones was the kind of man who sent the subject's racist instincts baying up from the depths like some hound of Hell.  Mr. Jones was not the kind of guy that the subject ever wanted to confront anywhere diserted.
Ed, the technician looked older, more rounded and somewhat mellower.  His fringe of hair was definitely turning gray and he seemed comfortable in his suit and tie.
"OK," said Mr. Jones, "break over.  Let's put the crown of thorns back on the subject."
"Crown of thorns?" asked the subject.
"That's what we call the electrode setup" replied Ed "It's like the crown of thorns they put on Jesus' head before the crucifixion" Ed continued "it's kind of an inside joke".
"Joke" muttered Ed finding none of this funny.  "You guys really think those of us who go through this are like the savior getting crucified?"
"Don't flatter yourself" sneered Mr. Jones as Ed started putting the electrodes back onto the subjects head.
Mr. Jones keyed instructions into the computer.  "That has to be one desperate mother to go through this."  he grumbled.
Ed wished that he did not hear the unspoken expletive in Mr. Jones' comment just like he wished Mr. Jones would not track street attitude into the office.  But he was just the lab assistant and Mr. Jones was in charge, so things would be done his way.  Ed walked back from the subject across the windowless room to his monitor.  At least the subject wasn't screaming; not yet.

...
It had been a long day Frank thought as he turned to the last fact sheet in the folder.  First he had to deal with Oscar's sighted mom.  She was sweet enough, but she did not know how to get to the office and she had no understanding of military time.  Something he had found out when she asked "What doe 13:30 mean?"  This wouldn't have been so bad if he had not had people in his group for whom eyesight trumped his twenty years of experience getting around in these buildings.  He ended up solving the problem by getting the sighted mom to make sure everyone followed him while he got them to the office on time.
Next he had needed to tell Bruce not to treat congressman Stone like he was a hick because he was from a small town.  "We come here to get respect and that's easiest when we treat others with respect" he had told Bruce in a break after their first office visit.  He had also pointed out that getting their agenda through congress was going to be hard enough without alienating congressmen with a self important atitude.  Bruce had at least had the good grace to give it up.
And then there was the agenda itself.  First had been another bill to assure that college textbooks would be available in the new unified Braille code.  The second had been a bill to assure non-visual access to the new one-stop Federal aid kiosks.  Both were frustrating examples of campaigns where you won all the battles but kept losing the war.  Either someone found a loophole around the law, thus requiring more legislation, or the law was subtly perverted as it went through the legislative process, again requiring more legislation.  At least these two bills should be easy to pass.  The last item was going to be an absolute beast.
"finally," Frank said "we are asking congress to set up a CASP program for people applying for Federal jobs involving work with people who are blind."
"Is that like the program that you people use to get around the racial preferences for Federal jobs?" the aid asked.
Well, Frank said, it uses the same technology, but there are differences between out proposal and the existing CASP program.
The differences were important.  The CASP (computer aided sSensitivity Program) was meant to assure that non-African Americans who took jobs that were otherwise set aside were sensitive to the bad racial history of the nation.  At least, that was what the flowery language used to support the program had said.

It had turned out somewhat differently.  The sensitivity imposed in the program had been too much for some applicants to take and horror stories abounded about people having mental health issues after going through the process.  It had not helped that one applicant with health issues had, a seizure during a CASP session, and had the whole thing recorded and uploaded to the internet; the whole grizzly  episode had gone viral.
"How is it different" asked the aid?
"First of all" replied Frank, it's not government wide, so its not as expensive as the current program."  In these times of fiscal austerity, the cost counted for more than the pain inflicted.  "Secondly, we don't feed people a lot of horror stories" continued Frank.  "We won't people to know how blind people experience the sighted world; so most of what we would give them is examples of blind people being frustrated by folks giving directions using hand gestures and the like.  It's not about painful experiences, just instructive ones."
"The whole reason for the CASP program in the first place was to instruct you white folks about how you've treated us" retorted the aid.  "That's why Congressman Williams supported the program in the first place.  It's just that the technology was a lot more realistic, and expensive, than anyone really expected.
Frank pondered as the aid's understanding of the issue.  His feet ached from standing on marble floors in good shoes; something he was not accustomed to.  He know that walking tomorrow would be an adventure.  He wished that decorum allowed him to wear his tennis shoes and he wished that the cramped office had enough chairs for all of his gcrew.
"The real difference" Frank explained "is that most of our experiences aren't painful and traumatic.  They're frustrating and different and they're new to sighted people but they're not painful.  We just want sighted people to know that we can function in the dark and that we need verbal explanations; we don't want to frighten anyone just teach people what we do"
"Teach people what it means to be blind" the aid asked "I'm not sure I understand."
"Yes teach" explained Frank "We want people who work with blind folk to know that a blind person can be competent, that he can do things that most sighted people would not think possible.  So part of the program will be for sighted people to experience alternative techniques that blind people use, Braille, cane travel, that sort of thing.  program participants might actually find some of this fun, or at least interesting."
"You mean that blindness can be fun?" exclaimed the aid in disbelief "how can that be?"
"Well" explained Frank "blind people can have fun to.  We hope people who go through the process can see use as fully human; this means that they will learn that some things we do are fun."
"I'll pass the fact sheet on to Congressman Williams" the aid said.  "I really can't promise anything."
The meeting ended with everyone shaking hands.  There were not pictures of the group with the congressman as there had been in years past, but then, this had not been the kind of feel good meeting that led to photo opportunities.
"Too bad David wasn't here" said his friend Gina "he always does well in these meetings."
"Your right" said Frank "we could have set up two groups and the day would not have been so long."
"I'd better call him and see how he's doing" replied Frank as he pulled out his cell phone "He should be done with his CASP session.  Somehow I doubt he is having any fun today."


The subject was not having fun at all. " Are you alright" ask Ed as he rushed into the recovery room "Those screams sounded horrible."
Sheua" the subject sighed "just had a bad moment there.  I was just listening to this Country and Western song about how great the world would have been if the Sough had won the Civil War and all I could think about was being beat up by rednecks.  I guess I'd never thought of it that way."
Some of that cowboy music that's like that" replied Ed "which is why I listen to jazz instead.  Here, let me turn on the radio and I'll leave it here till your ready to leave.  I guess you're learning that going through the process makes you one of us, at least in experience."
The subject did not want to be one of them if belonging caused such pain.  He had been beaten up by bullies in school.  He had undergone serious eye surgery and had experienced the wrung out feeling that you got waking up from anesthesia.  He had gone to job interviews that had started with the statement that "You can't do the job" and had gotten worse from there.  This experience had the worst of all of the other bad experiences plus an excruciating headache and the burdening feeling of the unwanted pain of unbidden ghosts.
Although "unbidden" was not quite correct.  He had, because of economic desperation, volunteered for the procedure. With the economy the way it was, it was hard enough for an able bodied person to get a job let alone someone who was blind.  If torturing oneself was the only way to be eligible for Federal employment, than he would go through the torture.  With a wife and son, it was not an option to say no.
"You OK?" Ed asked.  "You looked out of it."
"Just thinking" the subject replied.
"Yeah" Ed said softly "there's a lot in that to think about.  We didn't propose this treatment to torture people; we just got real frustrated that you white folks didn't understand our problems.  You thought that if you passed a few laws and elected a black president that all the problems of the past would disappear.  Well, it's not that way at all.  The past is still with us and now you understand.  I just would rather that the learning experience hadn't turned into an act of sadism."
"Why is it this rough?" the subject asked."
"You have to understand that Mr. Jones and some of the people who set up this program have had some really harsh experiences and really wanted people to know how bad things were.  So they took some of the worst memories that could be picked up by the memory copying software and added it to the transfer program.  So, you get to see the worst we experience."
"Wow!" said the subject "I sure hope that was the worst."
"As for me" said Ed "I would have put in more about our culture and background and how we learned to live with the way things are; but they don't ask me.  I'm just a worker.  When you get your Federal job, then you will understand that to."
About then the cell phone rang and the subject pressed talk.  "Hello Frank" the subject said "how did it go at the day in Washington?"
"Long" replied Frank "wish you'd been here to help."
"Me to" said the subject "I'll never complain about long days and sore feet again."
"That bad?" asked Frank.
"Pretty nasty" replied the subject "But it's over now.  See you when you get back."
"Will" said Ed after the phone call had ended "I'll get you when you're ready to leave.  Just let me know."
"Thanks Ed" the subject said "I'll let you know."
"Just one more thing" continued Ed "You should remember what Faulkner said about the past; it never dies."

"So explain to me why you want to head up the blindness CASP program?" Vicky inquired.
"I advocated for it for five years and now I want to make sure its done right.  I don't want it to cause a lot of pain to people.  I want it to be a learning, not a harrowing, experience."  "I went through the original CASP program, and I want to make sure that the original mistakes don't get repeated."
"Well you probably wouldn't have been employed by the Government without going through the CASP given your job experience to that point."
Indeed this was so.  Once David had gone through the program, he was eligible for some of the help that other minority members had received.  So he had started his career.  At each place he worked he went through the same process.  First there was resentment; "Your stealing jobs from black folks who need them" one coworker had complained.  Then through dint of hard steady work, the resentment was replaced by grudging respect and ultimately with admiration.  The repeated journey from thief to inspiration had felt nice, but it had never done anything to make the flash back nightmares he would get any better.  His wife would here him scream at night and ask him if it had been worth it to get what he had.  Then he would repeat to himself the old mantra "I'm glad to have a job, I'm glad to have a job, I'm everlasting glad to have a job."
"What did you say about a job?" ask Vicky
"Just remembering" replied David wishing for the millionth time that he only had his own memories to deal with.
"what do you think your strengths as a leader are?" asked Vicky working through her standard list of required interview questions.  She was very professional in this not letting on that they had met several times eating brown bag lunches in the small park across the street.  She never let on that they had talked a lot about what should, and more importantly, what should not be part of a useful CASP program.
And so the interview went on.  David felt the usual interview nerves but didn't feel an added weight of anxiety given that this was the job he really wanted.
"Do you have any questions?" asked Vicky as the interview wound down.
"How much discretion do I have in choosing the CASP downloads?  I want to make sure this is done correctly" continued David.  "After my experiences, I really know what can happen if the program is set up with a distorted goal in mind."
"You'll have to run things past me" replied Vicky "There will also be the typical oversight from the Secretary's staff,, but I think that what you want for the program will be aceptible for all concerned."
"Thank you for your time" David said at the end of the interview as they shook hands.  "I'll probably see you in the park at lunch time.  It looks like a beautiful day.  David exited the office and walked on into the future.  He felt that this had been one of the more important days of his life.


"Are we ready for our first subject" David asked Ed as he walked into the windowless room where his life had been changed.
"Yes indeed" said Ed "Mr. Jones will be coming in any minute now"
Just then, the door opened and a large man came in.  Time and hardship had blunted the man's features since David had seen him last and the sheen of his shaved skull seemed duller now, but David recognized the man.
"Don't worry Mr. Jones" David said "I don't think anything we have for you is too frightening.  We do have a couple of scenarios where people are hit by quiet cars, but you won't have to experience them.  We save that stuff for driver's who need to be reminded that they share the road with others.  What we have for you is not painful at all."
"But I'll experience blindness" exclaimed Mr. Jones "That sounds pretty scary to me."
"It takes getting used to I'm sure" soothed David "but people adjust all the time, and the folks who's experiences you'll be sharing are used to it; we find that this makes the change less frightening."
"I hope that you don't have anything else on your schedule" interjected Ed "The sessions run longer than when you were in charge."
"You see" added David "it takes longer to teach than it does to shock.  We want this to be a learning experience for you."
"I've been our of work for almost a year ever since the first CASP program was terminated" groused Mr. Jones "I've got all the time in the world."
"Your welcome to come over to our Quaansa celebration this weekend" added Ed talking comfortingly to Mr. Jones.
"I'd heard of Quaansa" said David "but I don't know that much about it.  I guess I've still got a lot to learn before I become truly one of you".
"Let's get this over with" gruffed Mr. Jones "I've got all kinds of time, but I'm sure you're all very busy people."
"OK" said David "we'll start with you being blind and trying to get directions from someone who's in love with hand gestures.  Then we'll move on to something fun.  You'll like doing cane mazes once you get used to them."
"Are we ready to crown our subject with the crown of thorns yet?" asked Ed.
"I think so," sreplied David "I think he knows the ground rules."
"You still call it the crown of thorns?" asked Mr. Jones.
"Yep" said David "it's like the thorn in Pauls's flesh that instructed him in humility."
"You think of me like an apostle then?" Mr. Jones asked sourly.
"Don't flatter yourself" replied David "Let's get started."



Shawn Jacobson
Mathematical Statistician
Phone# (202)-475-8759
Fax# (202)-485-0275