Evolution by Jeannie van Rompaey Page A

side to side unable to control my movements. I’m in one of those nightmares I suffered from as a child.
    Back at Home-Court-Jameson at last, I let myself in, stumble to my room, throw myself on my bed and burst into tears.
    ‘Supper’s ready!’ Stella sings out.
    But I can’t sit down to eat with the family. There’s no way I could eat a thing and no way I could face the children’s questions about why I’m upset.
    Father knocks on my door. ‘Michael. Can I come in?’
    In he comes and sits beside me on the bed and, between sobs, I pour out my story. He listens without interrupting, taking in every detail of my account.
    ‘It was the most dreadful, humiliating day of my life,’ I tell him. ‘Who would do such a thing, Father? Where do youthink they took me? It was like a cell, but I don’t think it was the police station. I know I was blindfolded, but it didn’t seem as if we were walking in that direction. And they knew my name, Father. They knew who I was. Can you believe that?’
    Father sits for minute, his arm round my shoulders, thinking about what I’ve told him.
    ‘It’s my guess that they took you to the interrogation room in the Symposium,’ he says eventually.
    I stare at him, unable to believe my ears. ‘An interrogation room? I thought this was a democratic state.’
    ‘Sometimes it is necessary to….’ He stops. ‘Look, Michael. Don’t worry. I’m on the case now. How dare they arrest my son and treat him like that?’
    His response matches the way I felt in that cell. Indignant. Furious. The difference is that I was powerless. I could only rave. Father can do something about it.
    ‘And Father, I was dragged through the streets and no one commented or protested. Not one person tried to help me. Is this normal procedure in Oasis to arrest someone, handcuff him, blindfold him and drag him through the streets? I thought we lived in a civilised city, but the words police-state spring to mind.’
    ‘Oh don’t say that, Michael.’ Father grips my shoulders. ‘In any place, however civilised, there is always a section of the community who think they are above the law and others who are afraid of them.’
    ‘Bullies,’ I say. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if these bullies torture people too.’
    Father looks a little uncomfortable. ‘I think it would be best, Michael, if you feel up to it, to go to Hos-sat as planned tomorrow morning. With you safely out of the way, I will deal with the situation here. I intend to find out who is behind this travesty of justice. I have my suspicions who is responsible and intend to find out for certain.’
    He pauses for a moment. I see a nerve working in his neck. In spite of his seeming control, he is very upset. And angry. ‘I want this person arrested, strip-searched, and humiliated, yes and tortured if necessary and sent to Prison-sat.’
    ‘But if you did that, you’d be behaving just like them.’ I’m pleased he feels so strongly about the way I’ve been treated but behaving the same way is surely not the answer.
    Father takes a deep breath. ‘You’re right, as usual, Michael. But when something like this happens to my son I find I don’t just want justice. I want revenge.’
    I have never heard Father speak so strongly before. It’s gratifying but I do hope he doesn’t do anything he will regret. After a while he calms down and gives me a wry smile. ‘Life does not always run smoothly, Michael, and it’s not always easy to play by the rules. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything unethical. But I would like to see that man punished properly for what he did to my son.’
Journal Entry
    Before I leave in the morning, Father comes to my room. ‘I understand you were picked up near the Project. What the hell were you doing there?’
    He’s already discovered the details of my arrest and is not well pleased. His face is taut, pinched with fury.
    ‘I needed to see for myself what was happening there.’
    ‘Why would you want to do