More Mr. Mailman

As the sun rose over the town of Felder Bart rose along with it. He wandered into his kitchen to poor himself a bowl of cereal, stopping to pick up his newspaper along the way. As he ate his breakfast and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, Bart flipped open The Felder News and began perusing it. It contained the usual “hang technology” paraphernalia, a few advertisements for the town dance on Friday, and a classifieds section for those seeking employment. Bart smiled to himself when he reached the end of the paper and hadn’t seen a single thing about Lucy Smith, Gary Smith, or himself. He hummed his way back to his bedroom to don his mailman attire when he heard a thud on his door. Fearing the worst, Bart peeked out his window to see who was there. His lot looked empty. He cautiously edged to his front door and pulled it open, waiting for Cynthia to pop out. But nothing happened. He looked about but saw nobody. As he was about to shut his door, Bart looked down to find a pamphlet tied to a rock by his feet. “ah,” he thought, “that explains the thud.” He brought the pamphlet inside, and the color soon drained from his face as he read its contents. Bart wanted to laugh at the blatant lies Cynthia was spouting, but kept reading.

SCANDAL IN FELDER

By Cynthia Weaver

My fellow citizens, friends, and neighbors, it is with a heavy heart that I bring you this information. We have all worked tirelessly to keep the Great Progression at bay and for that I feel we all deserve a large pat on the back. However, there is one among us who most decidedly deserves no pat. His name, as most of you know, is Gary Smith. He is known by some as the owner of a small, inadequate bookstore called “Peacocks,” but he is known to me as a traitor to Felder’s economy.

As most of you know, Mr. Smith’s wife and daughter were among those exiled. His wife had been found in possession of a Mind Reader, a most treacherous evil. Our great Mayor May would have none of it and banished her from our peaceful town. The daughter, a girl most absurdly called Kitten, followed her mother, showing her true colors. But Gary remained. He claimed he had been unaware of his wife’s illicit purchase, so he was allowed to stay most graciously.

And since then, we have all been nothing but kindness to Mr. Smith. We’ve supported him and his decision to stay and even overlooked the fact that he’s a sorry excuse for a man, for what man allows his wife, the recipient of his zap, to buy immoral inventions? And what man shares his zap with a woman who would do such an atrocity? And furthermore, what man let’s his wife and daughter leave without following? But, we all gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Bart wanted to laugh at the blatant lies Cynthia was spouting, but kept reading.

Well, yesterday I heard it on good authority that Gary Smith is married to an adulterer. Lucy Smith, former resident of Felder, is pregnant. Who is the father? Nobody knows. It certainly isn’t her husband. Why should we allow this man to remain among our virtues when he clearly has no respect for them himself. He does not deserve to stay in Felder. His soul mate, wife, and mother of his child is such a disgrace that Gary must be a disgrace also, for does he not house her zap? Is her energy not coursing through his body? Or is it?

Aha! It is clear now, Gary Smith could not have been Lucy Smith’s soul mate. It is impossible. Thus, I hereby lay my claim to have Gary Smith exiled from Felder.

Bart set the pamphlet down and closed his eyes. Poor Gary. Cynthia had done her worst. She gave voice to the fears so many others shared. Everyone wondered why Gary didn’t follow his wife. Everyone wondered because they all assumed that Gary and Lucy had been soul mates. It was unheard of for two people to get married who had not shared their zap. It was considered an abomination. A sin against yourself. Of course, Bart knew before anyone else that they weren’t soul mates. He knew two weeks after Lucy left when the divorce papers showed up. Nobody got divorced anymore because nobody ever needed to get divorced when they married their soul mate. In fact, until the divorce papers showed up, Bart didn’t even know that you still could get divorced. Gary had certainly done a good job of hushing it up. And lord knows Bart never said a word about it.

But now Gary was trapped. He had to respond to Cynthia, but how could he? For once, she was right. Oh yes, her pamphlet was riddled with over exaggerations and lies, but Cynthia was right-Gary and Lucy were not soul mates. He was sure to be exiled. Bart sighed. He felt upset for Gary Smith, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. They weren’t exactly friends. Yesterday was the first time they’d ever exchanged more than their usual good mornings. But for some reason Bart’s heart went out to Gary. He’d witnessed first hand the ridicule and scorn Felder had bestowed on Gary. Not a single soul, Bart included, had tried to sympathize with him. Nobody thought about how hard it must have been for him to have his family ripped away, his only daughter gone. Naturally, many citizens of Felder lost friends and acquaintances over the exile. Mr. Hough still wrote letters to his old friend, though it might be more appropriate to call them diatribes, but nobody scorned him for keeping contact. In fact, a lot of people respected him for trying to show his friend the error of his ways. But, Gary Smith was a different case altogether. Nobody cared that Gary lost his wife and daughter. Nobody cared that he was forced to open Peacocks since he lost his job as an auto salesman. And nobody cared to talk to him.

Suddenly, Bart felt ashamed. For was he not another member of Felder’s community? He, who saw Gary everyday and never even offered a smile.

“God, what kind of a villain am I?” Bart said into the silence of his kitchen. Suddenly the clock signaled that is was time for Bart to go collect the day’s deliveries. With a knot of regret in his stomach, Bart walked to the edge of town to collect any external deliveries dropped off by representative of Rang or Pooch. He found the usual assortment of letters, but ignored most of them, checking to make sure there was one from Kitten. He let out a breath when he saw that there was. “At least Gary will have this to make him feel better.” For Gary was no doubt in a deplorable state after Cynthia’s pamphlet. Deciding to alter his usual route, Bart walked to Peacocks first to check on the poor man.

Mr. Mailman

Felder was a town unlike any other. While the neighboring towns of Rang and Pooch evolved with the rest of society, Felder was determined to stay “normal.” Felder’s inhabitants were not keen on the rise of such glorious inventions, like the Mind Reader and the Sky Skimmer. They preferred to read good old fashioned books, made of paper, rather than people’s minds. And they never desired a Sky Skimmer because who would want to transport themselves to a technological, evil, forward thinking place, when they could stay in Felder.

 This time of invention and migration away from olden years came to be known as the Great Progression. And while the spirit of the Great Progression excited and captured the hearts of many people, the Mayor of Felder, known simply as May, was not one of them. When Rang and Pooch demolished their outdated businesses, such as libraries, beauty salons, and clothing stores, to make room for “the future,” May declared that anyone who owned a device that “led them to disrespect the economy of Felder” would be exiled. Following this proclamation, approximately 500 people were exiled (though they preferred to call it liberation from the past.) Those exiled went on to enjoy the luxuries of the modern age, printing their own clothes, making themselves grow or shrink according to their fancy, and overall enjoying themselves.

Well, with half his town gone, May decided to redirect his attentions by glorifying the traditional. He assured his citizens that the rest of society was up to witchcraft of the worst kind, and proceeded to print pamphlets and pamphlets describing how a simple, old-fashioned life was better for the soul. These pamphlets were so successful that Felder regressed farther into history. People began to view the past as a haven of simplicity and morals, leading them to discard any technological advance that was not altogether necessary. Cars, computers, tv’s, cameras, and radios were the first to be cut. Kitchen appliances, plumbing, heating, and electricity were allowed to stay, for the simple reason that May was not prepared to live without them.

So, although Felder’s electronics stores went out of business, some new (or rather old depending on how you look at it) businesses emerged. Someone was fortunate enough to find a Printing Press, which May deemed critical for circulating news. Thus, Jay’s Prints blossomed. A theater company took over an old car shop, to soon thereafter flourish as the town’s only form of entertainment. Bowling alleys were abandoned to become dance halls and garages became filled with bicycles. And it was in this state of past and present that Felder existed. Rang and Pooch provided Felder with the inventory necessary to maintain their lifestyle and everyone existed happily praising their society and criticizing the products of the Great Progression. In fact, reading about the latest inventions and scorning them became a favorite pastime of many inhabitants of Felder, breeding proud, haughty, condescending natures.

Mayor May had never dreamed that his pamphlets would eradicate so much. He had only been trying to prevent disturbing technology, like that blasted Mind Reader, from infiltrating his peaceful town. But, he was not about to complain. He thought himself a saint, giving up his car and computer to keep his citizens safe from evil. Visitors never came and people never left, leaving Felder the only town not embraced by the Great Progression.

Among those living in Felder was a Mr. Bart Montgomery, known as the local mailman. Every day, excluding Sundays of course, Bart donned his gray mailman pants, his blue mailman shirt, and his stoic mailman face. At 10:47am, Bart would walk into society’s last remaining barber shop to deposit their collection of “The Past is the Future” pamphlets.

 At precisely 11:02am, Bart began his tour down “bookstore” lane. All three of Felder’s bookstores lay side by side, and all three of Felder bookstores charged the exact same price, had the exact same collection of historical, moral novels and the same run-down bathrooms. Their mail, however, showed the differing interests of the owners of each store, and Mr. Montgomery alone knew of these differences. He could tell you that Mr. Pots, owner of “Book Ends,” routinely received correspondences from Miss Olivia, the local theater star. Or that Mr. Hough, owner of “Book Beginnings,” kept up a steady flow of epistolary debate with his old friend who was exiled to Rang. It was obvious to Bart that Both Mr. Pots and Mr. Hough had their personal mail delivered to their shops, and he often wondered why they didn’t direct it to their personal addresses. Although this puzzled him greatly, Bart knew it was not in his bounds as a mailman to questions his deliveries.

The third bookstore housed in Felder was a new establishment called “Peacocks” which was recently opened by a Mr. Smith. Although Peacocks offered the exact same selection of books as “Book Ends” and “Book Beginnings,” it suffered from a severe lack of customers.  The busybody moms who daily entered Peacocks continually left with a fresh piece of misconstrued information, but always managed to avoid purchasing a single item. For, Mr. Smith’s wife and daughter were among those exiled, and everyone blamed him for their evil ways. Mr. Smith regularly looked forward to Bart’s daily visit because he always received a single letter from his daughter, Kitten.

            It is now that a critical part of Bart Montgomery’s character must be delineated. He was a quiet man, wishing to pass by unnoticed. He was happy for his job as the mailman because it kept the local gossips bored with his day-to-day business. For Bart, personal business was meant to be just that, personal. He didn’t care if people thought he was a lonely man withering off into old age. So long as they let him be, he was content. Yet, however much Bart valued his own privacy, he valued helping other’s maintain theirs more. He knew enough of Felder to understand that it took a few solid years before people learned to put their pestering questions on the attic shelves along with their kid’s old toys. Most citizens of Felder were quick to judge and criticize other’s actions, especially the actions of someone closely associated with the exiled. Bart knew the Mr. Smith kept up a correspondence with his daughter. He knew that Mr. Smith had received divorce papers not two weeks after his family’s departure from Felder, and he knew that Mr. Smith had a right to his own anonymity.

            So, when the clock struck 11:15am and Bart entered “Peacocks,” Mr. Smith’s face lit up.

“Good morning,” Mr. Smith would chorus eyeing the single letter in Bart’s hand.

“Mornin’,” delivered with a slight nod of the head was all Bart would offer in return as he set down his letter and picked up any mail Mr. Smith wished to send out. Bart would then leave, knowing without having to look that Gary Smith had already snatched open his letter and was worlds away, lost in Kitten’s words. And this simple exchange occurred every day, except Sunday. Bart never indicated that he wanted to converse with Gary. In fact, he made it a point not to even smile. He didn’t want Gary to tell him anymore about his life than he already knew. Bart was trying to protect Gary from divulging information that was sure to be overheard and reshaped into something quite dreadful.

            After “Peacocks,” Bart continued his deliveries until around 4 o’clock. Then he would make his solitary walk home, where he would shower, make dinner, pretend to be interested in some book or other before dropping off to sleep to start it all over again the next day.

            It was a Wednesday when things changed, that much Bart was sure of. He knew it was a Wednesday because it was his least favorite day. Everyone gossiped more on Wednesdays. Apparently the middle of the week required extra amounts of scandal to get people through it.  As Bart began his normal routine, his temper slowly rose high as he heard the latest of the rumors.

“Yes, and she’s pregnant! I know so. I heard from Cynthia.” Gasps ensued. “Cynthia? Well then it must be so. How scandalous! Pregnant? At her age?”

At first, Bart simply tuned out his ears, trying to get his deliveries done as swiftly as possible. But as he day wore on it became increasingly hard to not hear what everyone was talking about.

“Well, serves her right, the little devil. I told you the Great Progression would be the root of all misfortune. If only Gary had been strong enough to stop them. Now he has to endure his wife sleeping around with lord knows how many men, and getting herself done up with another child.”

“I tell you it’s that MYSTYLIST. People aren’t meant to change their appearance and have access to the latest fashions at the drop of a button. I bet she made herself look years younger and that’s how it happened.”

So by the time the clock struck 11:15 and Bart entered “Peacocks” he was not at all shocked to find Cynthia Weaver pestering poor Gary for all the details.

“So, how does it feel to be the humiliation of Felder? What did you think when you found out? Jay wants me to write an entire article about it, so the sooner you confess the easier this will be. Do you blame yourself? I dare say you should. A husband who can’t keep his wife and daughter from technology surely deserves anything coming to him.”

“umm, well,” Gary was drowning in Cynthia’s muckraking. When he saw Bart he looked up in plea “Good morning, Bart!” he nearly shouted, ”how’s the old…uh” he stopped, realizing he knew absolutely nothing about Bart’s life. Luckily enough, Bart came to his rescue.

“The old bicycle’s still old,” Bart injected, “I reckon it’s time I get a new one, but you know me, always loath to part with anything…uh old.” Cynthia snapped around eyeing Bart suspiciously. She’d never heard Bart talk to anyone.

“Why, Mr. Montgomery? Aren’t you feeling chatty today? Maybe since you and Gary as so close you would like to be included in my article. You have heard, right? Lucy Smith is pregnant,” she paused letting that sink in, “yes, that’s right. Gary’s old hag of a wife went and got herself knocked up by some technology loving fiend. What have you to say to that?” Her bright green eyes practically sparkled in her excitement to finally get a quote from Bart. Gary’s pallid face grew whiter if possible, as he waited for Bart’s reply. A few quiet seconds passed as Bart rationalized how to respond. He knew he wasn’t about to give Cynthia more ammunition for her article, but he also knew he had to say something to protect Gary from her claws. “Well, goodbye solitude,” he thought to himself before turning on Cynthia and whispering in the most menacing voice he could,

“Get out.” For once, Bart had the satisfaction of seeing Cynthia Weaver without words, but it was short-lived.

“Excuse me? This is not your shop Mr. Montgomery. And I promised Jay I wouldn’t leave until I had a sto—ahhh!” Cynthia let out a shriek as Bart literally shoved her out the door and shut the blinds. 

“Thank you for that,” Gary replied shamefully.

 Bart nodded, “She will be back eventually. Cynthia never leaves a well until it’s completely run dry,” a slight tremor ran down Gary’s spine at Bart’s words. Silence ensued. When Bart decided that he should leave the shop and continue with his route Gary spoke.

“We’re divorced you know,” he said quietly, “Lucy didn’t cheat on me.” Bart nodded acknowledgment.  “I don’t know how Cynthia found out,” Gary continued, “Kitten told me weeks ago, of course. Went on and on about how excited she was to be an older sister, and then suddenly today the whole towns on about it.”  More silence followed before Gary spoke again.

“It was hardest at first. Kitten wouldn’t even write to me. I felt so lost. I almost followed them ya know. I was this close to up and leaving Felder for good, but I was scared. I had no where to go and Lucy would…ah, Lucy. She would never take me back,” Gary stopped to steady his breath, “I did something wrong, and Lucy had every right to leave.” It seemed to Bart that Gary was talking to himself more than anything, and Bart wished with every fiber of his being that Gary would stop. He didn’t want to know what Gary had done. The more Bart knew, the worse it would be. Cynthia was probably already planning an ambush at his house. But, here was a man so broken and alone that the only joy in his day was a single letter, and Bart didn’t want to upset him. Then he remembered the letter.

“I have a letter for you,” he said snapping Gary out of his reverie and pulling Kitten’s letter from his bag. The corners of Gary’s mouth twitched to almost a smile.

“Thanks,” he said taking the letter. Bart shuffled his feet awkwardly, then walked to the door.

“I better get going, got more mail to deliver.” And with that Bart walked out of Peacocks into the sunshine. He continued to deliver his mail and continued to here more gossip about Lucy’s pregnancy. Bart was glad Cynthia hadn’t told anyone about his going to Gary’s rescue. Well, she hadn’t told anyone yet. Tomorrow would be a different story.

Back at Peacocks, Gary sat down and opened his letter.

Dearest Father,

I told you already, didn’t I? I said you needn’t worry about mother being alone and I was right. Harry is such a blessing to mom, and no he never tells her to ‘talk softly.’ What a silly question to ask. I think you would like him. Well, I think you could like him if the situation was different. Nevertheless, Harry is a wonderful companion to mother, and I think he will be a great father (I’m sure I will be a better older sister though).

I’m sorry to hear that business is still slow. Felder really should try to increase their tourism. I can name at least 15 people who would marvel at the peculiar state in which you live. When I tell them about it, they simply stare before pulling out their Mind Readers to see if I am fibbing. I’m not of course, so then it’s good fun. You’ll have to let me know if Mayor May ever decides to be reasonable and let people visit. I would love to see you again.

Do you think 16 an appropriate age to get engaged? Everyone says it is. Fiona got engaged two nights ago. She’s already had her MYSTYLIST print out her dream wedding dress. I can’t say I’m jealous of Fiona’s getting married, but I do envy the dress. It’s beautiful. Mother says I can’t get married till I’m at least 20, how barbaric! Nobody waits that long anymore. And why should they? If you know, you know. Fiona is positive about Justin. She said the first time he held her hand she got the zap. I wonder what the zap feels like? Did you feel it with mom? When I try to ask mother about it, she refuses to be reasonable. Ask all your friends in Felder if they know what it feels like and report back to me. It’s not related to the Great Progression or technology, so they shouldn’t get upset.

In other news, haha! There really is no other news. Love you! Write soon!

Kitten

Gary sighed and set the letter aside. He envied Kitten’s blissful ignorance. “Ask my friends about the zap?” Gary thought, “I would if I had any to ask.” Truth be told, Gary knew more than he wished about the zap. He was aware that when you met your soul mate the first time you touched you would feel it. He had been led to believe that it felt like a jolt of electricity, stronger than any man made current, coursing through your body. The energy created was enough to stop your heart dead. However, it didn’t kill people because if two people felt it at the same time their energy had an outlet. It was able to flow into the other person. “Think of it like a transfer of energy. Yours flows into your souls mates, and theirs flows into you. After the zap, you will always have their energy inside you. You will always feel their love.” Those were the words Gary’s mother had used when she’d described the zap to him. But Gary’s mother hadn’t told him what happens when soul mates don’t match up. He’d learned that lesson the hard way.

 Gary quickly got up and began pottering around his store, doing anything to distract himself. He didn’t want to think about the zap anymore. He wasn’t ready to tell Kitten about it. Instead he began thinking about Cynthia. He knew she would be back. Cynthia was relentless when it came to scandal. He still couldn’t understand how she had found out about Lucy’s pregnancy in the first place. The only communication with the outside world was through mail, so Cynthia must have an outside source. Bart would know. Bart was the only person who had access to Cynthia’s mail. However, after their awkward encounter that morning, Gary was not keen on asking Bart. Gary still didn’t quite understand why Bart came to his rescue. The stoic mailman who never even offered as much as a smile suddenly talking about his old bike. Gary laughed at the memory. “he seemed nice enough,” Gary thought, “it can’t hurt to ask.” That night, Gary penned out a letter to Bart.

Dear Mr. Montgomery,

I want to thank you again for helping me with the situation this morning. I must admit I was in a bit of a shock when you arrived. Cynthia rather sprung herself on me.

To get to the point. As I told you earlier, I have no idea how Cynthia discovered that information. She must have an outside source. I was hoping you, as the mailman, might be able to tell me who said source is. I would really like to know who is making my personal life public.

Thanks again,

Gary Smith

Gary, put the letter in its envelope and pulled out another sheet to respond to Kitten.

My Dearest Kitten,

I am happy your mother and Harry are a good match. And I’m positive you will be the best older sister in the world. And you mustn’t pay too much heed to my silly questions; I am an old man after all.

As for Mayor May letting people in, I find it highly unlikely. He seems more resolute than ever to keep Felder separate from the Great Progression, though I’m sure he secretly misses his tv. Business will no doubt pick up eventually. I try to keep positive.

Now, as for engagement. I’m afraid to say I completely agree with your mother. 20 is not too old of an age. You’ll be there before you know it, then you can print out your own wedding dress far grander than Fiona’s.

Gary paused not sure if he should comment on the zap. He really wasn’t ready to tell Kitten what he knew. She was too young to learn about the zap. He decided to forget she had mentioned it.

Here’s a bit of news to excite you. You know the old bowling alley? Well, it’s been converted to a dance hall and the first dance of the season is in a couple days. I remember how much you love to dance and wish you were able to come. I’ve been personally asked by Mayor May to go as a chaperone, so I will tell you all about it.

Much love,

Dad

Gary really hadn’t been asked to chaperone the dance. He just wanted Kitten to think that he was leading a happy, joyous life in Felder. And he hoped bringing up dancing would distract Kitten from realizing he hadn’t mentioned the zap.