Back When
Jan Hamminga
Music to go: Jimi Hendrix, 1983
This as theatre
Granddad?
Yes, dear.
Do you remember?
Remember what?
Well, that you do. Do you have memories?
Many, dear. Why do you ask?
At school they said it's better not to remember. Memories make you sad.
Mine sometimes do, that's true. But you must remember if you want to learn something, don't you?
We don't, actually. We simply connect and then we know.
That was different in my time. We had to memorise everything the teachers told us. Maths, languages, science. All in the head.
Do you still remember everything?
Honestly, no, dear. I have forgotten a terrible lot, though I do remember some important bits.
Can you tell me a story from back when?
What would you like to know?
They say there were many more people. I'd like to know how many more.
And what makes you so curious?
Well, I've been thinking, why are there so many buildings for only us people? Perhaps life was very different back when.
It certainly was, dear. But school is right, it's better not to think of that too much.
I know nothing, the connector doesn't talk about these things. So, I figured, if you told me a story I might remember it. I'm actually good at remembering.
I wouldn't know which story suited you.
That's a no, then?
For the moment, dear.
Granddad?
Yes, dear?
I've heard there were more than a million people in our city alone. What happened to them? Where are they now?
Who told you this?
A friend. He'd heard his grandfather say there used to be many more people on planet Earth.
Had his grandfather explained what happened?
I'm not sure.
Well, there was a terrible disease. All over the world people died. So many died, in fact, that only very few survived.
Did our family lose many?
None, dear. We belong to the lucky ones.
The chosen, you mean?
If that's the term of choice, then yes.
Who chose us?
Fate, dear. We were meant to survive.
Did you lose friends?
Some.
You don't want to talk about it, do you?
I'd rather not, dear.
Granddad?
Yes?
Today my friend told me that people didn't die from disease. They were murdered. Suddenly, there was no food anymore. So people went to these camps where there was food, but upon entering they were killed.
What a horrible story, dear. You mustn't believe everything your friend tells you.
But is it true?
I can't really say. I never went to any such camps.
So they existed?
The disease was very contagious. Patients needed to be isolated. But let's talk about something else. It's a beautiful day today, isn't it?
I also heard the weather used to be terrible back when. Lots of rain and storms and dirty skies. So tell me, how many people were there really?
A couple millions.
Only?
You mustn't doubt your grandfather's word, dear.
At school they say old people have memory shock and their words cannot be trusted.
They do? Well, I guess there is a whole generation of traumatised people, the last generation in fact. Every generation though has its individual strengths, whatever the craze the masses have fallen for. There are a good number old-timers out there who can tell you an awful lot about life.
I just wondered, Grand, if everything was completely different, maybe there used to be people everywhere. All those people created pollution, like we do, and so they had to be disappeared to save the planet.
That's crazy thinking, honestly.
Then tell me the truth. Why is the city so enormous? Why are some boroughs completely deserted? Why do the roads have so many lanes? It doesn't make sense.
You are thinking too much, dear. You should enjoy life, live by the day, every beautiful day, like the rest of us.
I try, granddad, I really do, but something doesn't feel right. I look at the world and it looks weird. There is too much of everything. There must have been many, many millions. Maybe even billions.
Now don't get carried away, dear.
Say it, granddad. I know already. I want you to tell me.
I'm an old man, dear.
But you remember, don't you? So tell me the truth.
I'm not allowed, dear. There was a disease and that's all I can tell you.
Then I will tell you what I think. I believe there lived five million people in our city alone, and there were many similar cities all over the world. The world couldn't carry them any longer, so the rulers decided to get rid of the majority. They invented a disease which only certain people were vaccinated against, you for instance, and then they let the virus go. That's how they saved the world. And that's why we can't have memory. It's dangerous.
Who told you this?
I put stuff together.
You do, then.
Granddad, where have you been? Are you okay?
I'm fine, my love. Thank you. I was only taking a nap. By the way, yours is truly an eloquent insight, it comes much closer to the truth than you will hear many an explanation and I beg you stick with it for the time being. But I must ask you to leave me alone. I'm an old man who needs his rest. I have lived many years and seen an awful lot of things, beauty and horror at once.
But you won't tell.
Because I can't, dear. Last time out we taught the world about human evil we merely managed to promote the idea, help it catch on. So we oldies have sworn to take the truth with us in our graves, the last ones carrying the responsibility not to ultimately cry out. I intend to keep my oath.
No exceptions?
Remember the story you told me, is all I can say. Now give the old man a kiss, love. He is happy to see his granddaughter has a good head on her shoulders. He can be assured.
Bye Grand.
Be careful, dear.
