The Compulsory Recycling Program

John Malthus was at home enjoying a quiet Saturday afternoon to himself. He had a snifter of brandy on the coffee table beside him and a copy of the daily newspaper on his lap. It was raining outside and John had no intention of going anywhere or doing anything. He was in his element. John had just gotten comfortable, burrowing a nice ass-crease in his favourite leather chair, when he heard a knock at the door. He muttered some expletives to himself and arose to answer it. On his porch, John was greeted by a young man wearing a raincoat and carrying a bundle of papers enclosed in a fabric pouch.

“Good afternoon, sir,” said the bright-eyed youngster. “The government would like you to fill out this year’s census form.”

The young man handed John a damp sheet of paper. It had a bold and commanding letterhead:

Government Census Form 2015

Please complete all questions by the due date and mail to the appropriate address

“Not interested,” said John, as he returned the letter and tried to slam the door, but the youngster wedged his boot in the doorway.

“Sir, the census is mandatory by law. You don’t have a choice. Please complete it by the due date and mail to the appropriate address.”

“I don’t care. Fuck off.”

John kicked the boy’s foot from his doorway and slammed the door shut. He secured it with a deadbolt, and sat back on his couch to resume his lethargic activities. John took a sip of brandy, unfolded his newspaper and flipped to the sports section. Fucking Mallards beat the Horses 2-0! What a joke! They have no defence this season. John continued grumbling about the scores of recent games when he heard another, more forceful knock at his door some time later. Again, John muttered some expletives and arose from his ass-crease to answer it. The same young boy greeted him, but this time he was accompanied by a police officer. The police officer wore aviator glasses, leather gloves, and boots. The rainwater gave him a glistening appearance.

“This boy says you refuse to fill out a census form. That true?” asked the cop.

“Yeah. I don’t want to fill out your stupid form. Now leave me alone.”

“Sir, do you know the census is mandatory? The government says you have to fill it out. If you continue to refuse, then I’ll have to charge you with a fine.”

“I don’t care,” said John. “I’m not filling it out.”

The officer glanced at the boy, who shrugged his shoulders. The officer turned back to John, raised his chin and made an arrogant snorting sound. He took out a pad of paper, scribbled some words on it, peeled it off, and shoved it in John’s face.

“That’s your fine. Eighty-five dollars. I hope this teaches you a lesson about maturity. You can avoid such needless fines in the future if you just comply with the law. Nobody ever gained from engaging in civil disobedience.”

The officer took a census form and handed it to John. He made another authoritative snorting sound and left the porch with the youngster. When John had slammed the door, he crinkled the papers into a ball and dropped them in his trash-bin. He spat on them. He returned to his couch and his brandy to enjoy the rest of the afternoon in peace and quiet.

A week later, John was watching his favourite sports team, the Horses, play their third game of the tournament against their arch-rivals, the Giraffes. John Malthus took sports very seriously and celebrated the event by dressing up in all his official merchandise and regalia. His team ran out onto the field and John cheered aloud. Their beautiful teal and periwinkle uniforms inspired him with team pride. John had not watched ten minutes of the game before he received a phone-call. Who the hell could this be?

“Hello, Mr. Malthus,” said a pleasant-sounding female voice on the other line. “I am from the Federal Collection Agency. It appears as though you received an eighty-five dollar ticket last week that you have not paid yet.”

“Yeah. So?”

“Well, I hate to be a bother, but the due date for the ticket was Thursday. That was three days ago. If you don’t want the fines to increase, then I recommend you pay the fine in full by tomorrow afternoon. Okie-dokie?”

John did not detect a hint of malice in the woman’s voice. She demanded John’s money as though she were ordering a pizza, with all the politeness and good manners that such a transaction should entail.

“I’m not paying the fine tomorrow, or any other day for that matter,” said John. “Now leave me alone. I’m trying to watch the game.”

John slammed the phone. He quickly forgot about the disturbance because the Horses just scored two points. John shouted in triumph and pounded his fists against the coffee table. Yeah, we’re back in business! Go Horses! To his consternation, there came another knock at the door a few minutes later. John tried to ignore the visitors but the knocks grew louder and more forceful.

“Open up Mr. Malthus. It’s the Police!”

“Fuck!”

John arose from his chair and opened the door, all while keeping an eye glued to the events on the television. He was confronted with three towering policemen, one of whom was the aviator cop from last week.

“What the hell is your problem, Mr. Malthus?” asked the aviator cop.

“My problem is that I’m trying to watch the game and you assholes keep interrupting me!”

“No, I meant why are you refusing to pay your ticket and fill out a simple census form? I thought you had learned your lesson last week. Give me your promise that you will pay your fines and complete the census. We’re not asking much. Just do as you are told and everything will be fine.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else we are placing you under arrest,” bellowed a short, bulbous cop to his right.

“Looks like you’re going to have to arrest me then, as I do not intend on doing either of those silly things.”

The aviator cop produced a pair of handcuffs and before John could watch the end of the first period, he was being thrown in a squad car. Neighbours looked on in disbelief. John Malthus had never caused any problems in the neighbourhood. He was not a violent man, nor a disruptive man. He was known to be stubborn on occasion, but it was shocking for them to see John led out in cuffs. He did not resist his arrest. He did not protest and cause a scene. However, when he arrived at the police station, John asked the Police chief what the score of the game was. It was 2-1 Horses. He was brought into a dark room and seated at a table in the center. The police chief entered and was accompanied by a tall man with dark sunglasses. John found it amusing that this man wore sunglasses despite the darkness of the room. The police chief slid two sheets of paper across the table to John.

“Complete these forms and you may leave,” said the police chief.

One of these sheets was familiar to John. It had a bold and commanding letterhead:

Government Census Form 2015

Please complete all questions by the due date and mail to the appropriate address

“This one looks like the census, but what is this other paper you wish me to fill out?” asked John.

“It’s a formal statement of apology. We just need you to sign your name at the bottom there,” said the police chief.

“An apology? For what?”

“For wasting our time with your nonsense. That’s what.”

“But I’m not the one who’s wasting your time. You are the ones harassing me. I didn’t do anything except refuse to fill out some stupid census, which I am still not going to do.”

“But why not? It’s not like we’re asking you to give up a kidney. Just complete the damn form. It won’t take you longer than five minutes. I’ll even go through the trouble of mailing it for you. As for all this harassment, as you call it, we are merely taking the proper procedures to ensure you do your part by completing the census form. It is mandatory by law. We’ve all had a long day and I’m sure you want to get back home to watch the rest of your game. The sooner you sign your apology and complete the census, the sooner we can all get back to our lives. Just comply with the law, John. It’s the only way out.”

John tore the apology note and the census in two. The police chief buried his face into his hands and gave a long sigh.

“Why are you making this so difficult on everybody? Just fill out the fucking form, John! That’s all there is to it.”

“As I said, I’m not making this hard on anybody. You’re the ones keeping me here. You’re the ones forcing me to complete this stupid form. If you want to go home so badly, then go home. I’m not doing anything to keep you here.”

The police chief became enraged. John could see the blood vessels on his forehead grow large and inflamed. He growled like a wounded animal. The police chief stormed off to the corner of the room and lit a cigarette. The man with the black sunglasses turned to John.

“You will complete the census John Malthus, or the consequences will be dire.”

“No I won’t.”

The man with the sunglasses turned around to the police chief.

“What do you want to do with him?”

“Throw him in cell block 19 until he decides to comply with our demands.”

The man in the dark sunglasses smiled at John and cracked his knuckles. Then he placed John back in handcuffs and led him out of the interrogation room, down a long corridor lined with florescent lights. They came to a cage with thick iron bars. There was a crude sign hanging over the entrance.

Cell block 19

“Welcome to cell block 19 motherfucker. Here is where your fellow miscreants are kept.”

There were three other men in the cage, all filthy and downtrodden. Their hair was poorly groomed and their skin was covered in dust. One of the men raised his head and smiled when he saw John being thrown in the cage. He had no front teeth.

“This is Dooley,” said the man with the sunglasses. “I’m sure he’ll love to meet a nice young man such as yourself.”

Dooley licked his lips with delight to see his new cellmate.

“Like you, Dooley also thinks he is above the law. He is charged with three hundred accounts of loitering in public places. No matter how many times we arrest him for loitering, he just goes and does it again after his release. It’s such a problem that we had to lock him up indefinitely.”

“I just love to loiter,” giggled Dooley. “There’s nothing else in the world like it. That feeling I get from a good ol’ loitering—it’s like sex on ecstasy. It just gives me a rock-hard erection. My favourite places to loiter are banks and convenience stores. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t help it. This obsession has consumed my life. All I can think about is loitering.”

“And this is Isaac,” said the sunglasses man, pointing to a rotund bearded man in the corner. “Isaac thinks that he doesn’t have to file his income taxes like the rest of us. He hasn’t done so in twenty years. This blatant flaunting of society’s conventions is why he is locked up here.”

“What are you talking about? I filed my taxes last year!” yelled Isaac.

“From what I recall, you mailed a roofing shingle with the words fuck you! painted on it. That doesn’t count as filing your taxes.”

“And finally, this is Abdul,” said the sunglasses man, pointing to an Arab lying on the bench. “We locked him up here because Abdul doesn’t think he needs to wear his seatbelt while driving.”

“I don’t belong in here,” pleaded Abdul. “Why should I have to wear a seatbelt? I am a perfectly good driver and I have never been in an accident in all my thirty years behind the wheel of an automobile. I know seatbelts make me safer, but should I not be allowed to do without one at my own risk? I’m an adult. I am capable of making such decisions for myself. Please, just let me go home to my family. I’m sure they miss me.”

“Shut up, criminal!” said the sunglasses man. “The federal government says you have to wear a seatbelt. Do not question the will of the government! Those laws are in place for your own good. The government knows what is best for you. I doubt your family wants to see you again after you have committed such heinous, negligent crimes.”

Abdul began to weep and called the name of his beloved through his sobs. The sunglasses man slammed the iron door shut and made a mocking smile to the men inside.

“Enjoy your incarceration, jackasses,” he said, and walked away.

John Malthus languished in cell 19 with his fellow criminals for the following month. His beard grew thick and his hair tangled and untamed. The prisoners were fed by a small opening in the wall, barely big enough to place one’s hand through. All they received was gruel. Isaac told John he would get used to it after the first week. He was right. There was no interaction with the guards or the policemen. John quickly became comfortable in his captivity, growing rather attached to his cellmates. Isaac was a fellow Horses fan. The two of them talked sports throughout their time in cell block 19.

“The Horses need to improve their defence!” said Isaac. “They don’t stand a chance to win the championships if they don’t do something about their defence, especially against a team like the Mallards, or the Giraffes.”

“That’s what I’ve always said!” said John. “You should have seen their last game against the Giraffes though. They scored two nice points in the first fifteen minutes of the game. Those goddamn Giraffes didn’t even see it coming.”

“I wish I could go to that Horses stadium downtown and loiter all day,” said Dooley. He became frenzied with enthusiasm. He was rubbing his crotch and foaming at the mouth.

“Calm down Dooley,” said Isaac. “If you get too excited, you will ejaculate in your pants again. Remember what a mess you made the last time? Try not to think about loitering.”

“I can’t help it, man. It just gets me so hot.”

“Would you three please shut the fuck up already?” screamed Abdul. “How can you talk about sex and sports when you see what a dismal place we are in? I hate that stupid seatbelt law. Why do I have to get locked up for disobeying such a ridiculous edict? It’s not like I’m hurting anybody. Why can’t the government just let me be?”

“It’s never been a matter of hurting people,” said Isaac. “They lock us up in here because we undermine the authority of government. All the laws and edicts in the world are useless if nobody is there to enforce them. The majority of people just comply with whatever laws the government passes, without knowing why. The government declares everybody must wear a seatbelt, so everyone wears a seatbelt. Nobody has any reason not to, so people don’t really care if somebody forces them to wear one. But that is precisely the means by which these laws are enacted—by force. If the government had no force, then their laws would cease to have meaning. But for people like us, who consciously disobey these laws, we have to be made an example of. True, we have never hurt anyone or caused anyone malice, but the laws of government would be undermined if people like us were allowed to break them. Don’t you understand? It has nothing to do with what you have done, but because you have done it. You cannot create a new law without also creating criminals. When there are criminals, then one must punish them.”

Just then, the agent with the sunglasses emerged and removed John from cell block 19. He was dragged through the hallway from whence he came to the familiar interrogation room with the police chief. The police chief was smoking a cigarette. John was seated at the same table, where the same two forms awaited him. One was the apology letter while the other was the census.

“We are giving you one last chance,” said the police chief. “Complete the census form or you will be subjected to the harshest of consequences.”

John was silent.

“Well?” said the man with the sunglasses. “Have you finally come to your senses or do we have to take this a step further?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” said John. “But I will not complete the census, regardless of how much you threaten me.”

“We’re not threatening you!” said the police chief, with a great deal of insistence. He put out his cigarette in an ashtray on the table and looked John in the eye. He acted with a calm intimacy. His voice was soft and his manners calculated. The police chief leaned his body over the table to maintain eye-level position with John, but John kept glancing at the holstered revolver dangling from his chest.

“I don’t want you to think that we are out to hurt you, John. We’re trying to be as friendly as possible with you. You’re a smart guy. I would hate to see you subjected to harsh punishments just because of an irrelevant matter such as this. We’re on your side! We’re pulling for you! But when you are insistent on being difficult and refusing to submit to government authority, then there is not much we can do for you. Complete the census, John. The law demands it.”

John said nothing. He starred at the police chief’s revolver as though the gun were speaking to him, not the man carrying it.

“Why are you acting like such a child, John? You think we want to punish you for your disobedience? Just fill out the census form for fuck’s sake! What reason could you possibly have not to?”

“I have no reason not to fill out the census, but I am a free, autonomous person. As such, I own my actions and bear the responsibility for their consequences. I just feel like exercising my freedom to not fill out the census. That’s all.”

“No! You’re wrong!” yelled the man with the sunglasses. “You are only free to the extent that the government allows you to be free. You and I are only pieces of the larger aggregate that is society. As such, the government can dispose of you in any way it sees fit if you pose a threat to the society. Laws and government authority are the glue that binds society together. Without the laws of government, we would live in a chaotic world where anything and everything goes. Therefore, disobedience cannot be tolerated in any respect. Be it filling out a census form or chopping toddlers up with an axe, the government reserves the right to force you to do or refrain from doing certain things. You can’t just choose which laws you wish to obey or disobey. You are under the jurisdiction of the state! It has full authority over you! You and your fellow criminals in cell block 19 are the worst kind of scum imaginable. Nothing is more cancerous to society than you and your ilk. Look, I can comprehend the heart of a rapist or a murderer. Some people just can’t help themselves! You don’t expect everyone to take responsibility for their actions do you? But even the most violent serial killer knows at his heart what he does is immoral. He tries to evade the law because he is ashamed to have crossed it. He may even feel an ounce of remorse or regret for the things he has done. But You! You don’t just break the law openly; you do so free of any such reservations. By refusing to fill out the census, wear a seatbelt, or pay your taxes, people like you defecate upon the very glue that holds us together as a society. You are spitting on government authority and you should be subject to the most gruesome and medieval of cruelties. By abandoning the law of the herd, you should not expect its mercy in return. I will see to it that you suffer dearly, John Malthus. Mark my fucking words.”

The two government officials fell silent. They starred at John, hoping he would acknowledge his wrongdoings and beg forgiveness. John said nothing, although vaguely smiling. He leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms.

“What do you think, chief?” asked the sunglasses man. “Should we enlist him in the Compulsory Recycling Program?”

“I don’t want to,” the police chief sighed. “But I see no other option.” He turned to John. “Mr. Malthus, this is your last chance. If you do not complete the census by tomorrow morning, then we are enlisting you in the program.”

“I don’t care. I’m still not completing the census.”

The chief grumbled. For the first time, he actually appeared disgusted with John, waving him away and lighting another cigarette.

“Take this subhuman piece of trash away from my sight,” he said.

John was informed that he would be taken to the Reassignment Facility tomorrow morning. He was tossed back in cell block 19 for the night. It was midnight and his cell mates were asleep except for Isaac, who had stirred when John was thrown back into the cell.

“No luck I see?” Isaac said.

“No. They’re enlisting me in the Compulsory Recycling Program tomorrow.”

Isaac gasped.

“You must have really pissed them off then! They don’t take folks there unless they truly pose a threat.”

“What is this program exactly?”

“Nobody knows. But I can tell you one thing; of all the men who have been enlisted in the program, not one of them has returned. Are you going to submit to the government and fill out a census form?”

“No.”

“Good man. Your iron will is an inspiration to us all. I’ll tell your story to all the men who come through here. Whatever happens to me, I will forever hold the name John Malthus on my lips. I will think of you as a martyr to freedom and determination. Hopefully others will be inspired by you as well. You have a friend in me, John Malthus. I will never forget you.”

John Malthus was removed from the cell the next morning and carried into a black sedan. He was guarded by government officials in dark suits and black sunglasses. The car drove down a dreary road lined with factories and warehouses. There was not a single tree. The car stopped in front of a tall brick building. Two long chimneys stood like monoliths against the sky. A sign was posted out front.

Federal Reassignment Facility

No Loitering

The building smelled of soot and carbolic acid. The government agents took John into the facility and led him down some serpentine passageways until they came to a tremendous metal door. The cacophony of machinery could be heard grinding away behind it. Two people waited for John at the door. One of them was the police chief and the other was a young female nurse. She was very pretty.

“This is your final chance, John. Fill out the census or we will have no choice but to enlist you in the Compulsory Recycling Program,” said the police chief, holding out the familiar sheet of paper.

“I already told you that I have no such intentions.”

“Very well,” said the police chief, dusting his palms like he had disposed of something vile. “We did everything we could for you. You have forced our hand. If you intend on acting like a stupid child, then you shall be disciplined like one.”

The men ordered John to strip all his clothes. Once John was naked, the female nurse began applying some kind of fluid to this legs and chest with a sponge.

“This is rubbing alcohol. It will prevent an infection,” she said.

When John was fully coated with the alcohol, the police chief opened the door and led John into the room. He was deafened by the noise of the machines. The room was the size of a large gymnasium, and massive devices were all humming away inside—pounding, screwing, sawing, jointing, drilling, and hacking. John was led to the facade of an enormous machine in the back of the room. It was at least ten times his height. On the front of the device, there were two columns of razor-sharp teeth, each the length of John’s arm. The teeth fed into a giant steel drum, which formed the main bulk of the machine. Protruding from the drum was a series of pipes and pumps, which connected to another machine. This one looked like a medieval printing press. The police chief flipped some switches and the great machine roared to life. The columns of steel teeth started to spin and John could hear the pumps filling the giant drum with water. As John stood in the awe of this fearsome behemoth, the police chief whispered in John’s ear. The Horses have just won the championship. I figured you’d want to know. John smiled.

Before John could reflect of this good news, the police chief pushed him into the spinning teeth. They tore his body to ribbons. John did not scream or resist, as he didn’t wish the police chief to have the pleasure of witnessing it. Blood flecked the chief, who watched this great apparatus perform its functions. He smiled at the thought that it would recycle this disobedient criminal into something that would be of use to society. John’s remains were fed into the steel drum and mixed with water until they had become a pulpy mash. The mixture was pumped through the tubes and into a furnace where it was dried. A slicer divided the remains into individual sheets—eleven by eight and a half inches, one tenth of a millimetre thick. The Machine loaded the sheets onto the printing press, which inscribed them with words and figures. They were systematically piled once they were complete. The police chief picked up one of the papers. It was still hot and he bounced it around in his hands. These recycled sheets of human remains each had a bold and commanding letterhead:

Government Census Form 2015

Please complete all questions by the due date and mail to the appropriate address

THE END