"Here we are." The man said as they entered the building. "I don't have much here in the break room, but I'll see what I can scrounge together to get you back on your feet. The name's Terrance, by the way."
The room was a sparsely furnished break/storage room lightly accented with military paraphernalia. Cadet Carter was lead to a simple vintage dining chair consisting of a sturdy metal frame suspending two substantial sheets of leather that formed the seat and back. He practically melted into the chair, surrendering himself to the familiar, forgotten comfort it provided. It occurred to him that he hadn't sat in a chair with a backrest all week. There were no chairs at camp, nor proper beds either. Just benches and cots. He couldn't wait to get home and sleep in his own bed again, with pillows and blankets and without the stagnant gym sock atmosphere of the barracks... He began to shiver slightly as the water began to evaporate from his skin.
"Let me get you a towel, Tenderfoot" Terrance said poking through the storage containers along the wall. Cadet Carter was hopeful at that prospect, he'd feel much better with a nice big beach towel or bath sheet wrapped around himself. He felt so uncomfortable sitting naked and wet.
"Here you go." Terrance said warmly, tossing a small hand towel to the expectant Cadet. He caught it and gazed in disbelief at its diminutive size, but he wanted to be appreciative and began wiping the drops of water from his exposed skin as though the towel was just as he expected it would be. He tousled the small cloth through his hair and wiped his face, then he draped the towel over himself as best he could to hide his tummy from view and began to feel at least a bit more comfortable. The man saw he was done with it and stretched out his hand as an offer to take it back. Reluctantly he returned it to the man, doing his best to appear unaffected by the loss.
"Lets see about getting you warmed up" the man continued seeing that the cadet was still trembling from the chill in the air. He placed a small, old space heater beside the Cadet and filled a basin with heated water and a packet of some sort of fizzy powder. The gentle toasty breeze from the the space heater was so relaxing, he was almost glad he could feel it all over his body. The warmth was penetrating him deeply, relaxing his tense muscles. He allowed himself to lean in closer to the heater, craving more of the warmth it provided and ignoring the minor burning sting he felt on the outer most layers of his most directly exposed flesh as a content smile grew onto his lips. The basin was placed at his feet and the man gently removed the boots and guided the Cadet's feet into the foot bath. Cadet Carter had expected the sensation to be overwhelming for his new feet but it was pleasantly comfortable. The temperature was perfect and the sizzle of the fizzing powder was electrifying to his senses.
Terrance could see the boy was content and much happier now until the space heater cycled off and the disappointment crept plainly onto Cadet Carter's face. He walked over and turned the knob on the heater to max to keep it running indefinitely, provoking renewed satisfaction and contentment in the wayward youth.
"So, what's your story Tenderfoot? How did you wind up alone in your underwear in an alley during a hundred year storm?" Terrance asked leaning against the wall in anticipation of hearing an interesting tale.
"It's kind of a long story," Cadet Carter began trying to compose his thoughts. He explained that he had been enrolled by his parents in an all-boys military boot camp education program down the road that was, to his mind, abusive and controlling. He tried to convey the extent of the abuse, the mind control, the complete lack of creature comforts, the torturous clothing, and especially the inexplicable magical elements, but for some reason he was unable to adequately communicate what had happened to him. He was particularly incapable of saying anything about the supernatural things he'd witnessed. Whenever he tried, his mouth would produce some lame, petulant sounding complaint about being forced to work hard. He was growing frustrated by his inability to expose the inhuman secrets of the boot camp and even more frustrated that he couldn't even depict the place as anything more than a standard tough-on-young-boys military school.
"I know I'm not making it sound that bad, but you've gotta believe me it's worse than you can imagine! I had to get away. They were trying to make me into a model Cadet!" Cadet Starter shouted in frustration, once again feeling the weakness of his words. Terrance just nodded in understanding, prompting Cadet Carter to continue his story.
"I spent almost all of my time trying to figure out a way to escape, but the place was locked down in practically every way. Whenever I found a vulnerability, it would get patched before I even had a chance to exploit it. It got to the point where I had basically given up. I was out of time... They were going to take me away to be... What did Cadet Stevens call it? Conformed or something... I was going to lose myself and I couldn't see any way out. It was only by chance that a one in a million opportunity presented itself. The creek that flows through the compound was flowing wildly. It was usually little more than a small trickle that didn't even cover my shoes, but today it was more than enough of a stream to carry me along with the current. I figured the property fence wouldn't have been constructed to conform tightly to the creek's dimensions so I took the risk and jumped in while we were trying to salvage construction materials along the bank. I washed up not far from here in the ditch a little while ago. I couldn't stand having my uniform on any longer and I tore it off, leaving it in a heap in the alley. But the boots! They did this to me!" He said displaying his delicate foot, "My feet are so tender I can barely walk."
"Well that's not so unusual," Terrance chimed in "You've been working all day in the rain and swimming in the creek... All that water in your boots is bound to soften things up... You must have some kind of trench foot condition... But you'll be alright... It's just gonna take a good long wile to build up your soles again, toughen 'em back up with time and hard work... That's the only way."
Cadet Carter knew that wasn't quite the explanation for his condition but he couldn't bring himself to disagree.
"So that's the story then, eh?" Terrance began again, nodding slowly, "You're Awol."
Cadet Carter glanced up in concern over the use of the term Awol, remembering Terrance seemed to have an implied military background...
"You're not going to make me go back, are you? I need help getting home!" Cadet Carter pleaded
"You said your parents enrolled you in the school. What makes you think going home is an option?" Terrance asked with genuine sensitivity.
"They don't know what it's like. They don't know what I'm going through. I think they were tricked into signing me up... If I can explain to them about the conditions there, they'll let me come back home." Cadet Carter replied hopefully.
Terrance shook his head, "No, I think they've got a pretty good idea what goes on in a military school. The way you describe it makes it sound like just the kind of thing a boy like you needs to build character... But I really do want to help you Tenderfoot and I'm actually really impressed with your ingenuity and planning skills. I certainly won't be the one to send you back." he said reassuringly.
Cadet Carter was relieved to hear that, but newly concerned about his prospects here on the outside. It may be true that he would have nowhere to go. His parents were being controlled... Would he have to run away and start a life off the grid? Could he crash in his brother's college dorm and wait until he was old enough to emancipate himself. He still had a lot of problems ahead of him, and he was so tired of this...
"I don't know what I can do anymore, but I'm not going back!.. Whatever I end up doing I'm going to be free. I'm going to stay myself... I'm not going to be some soldier boy puppet, dancing on strings." Cadet Carter claimed with resolution.
Terrance seemed to flash a brief look of confusion at the Cadets statement; causing Cadet Carter to return the gesture with a questioning look of his own...
"The way I see it..." Terrance began, "Rules and regulations, obedience, and conformity... they're virtues. They don't enslave or imprison you, they open doors for you and liberate you in ways you maybe don't see right now. Take your Cadet friends for example, you said they went along with the program, but are they really worse off for it? They sound like much more capable individuals. They're more driven and better equipped to achieve the things everyone wants in life. I know it feels like the rules and expectations people are putting on you feel like strings, keeping you in line, pulling you down. But that's an illusion. You're like a kite pulling against your string in the wind. You resent the string for keeping you from flying free, for weighing you down with limitations, but have you considered what would happen if your string were cut?"
"...I'd fall to the ground..." Cadet Carter replied, looking deep in thought.
"And you really don't need to worry about losing yourself, you know. Whoever you are, is you. Your friends were still with you at the camp. They may have matured in some ways. They may have putt off the worst aspects of themselves, but the best of them surely remains. You can't just dismiss them as mindless puppets... That's not respectful to their hard earned progress as people, to their personal journeys of development and betterment."
Cadet Carter was finding himself agreeing with everything Terrance said. He couldn't shake the thoughts he was being presented with... It just all seamed so reasonable and clear when it was laid out in front of him like that. Perhaps he had been wrong to fight the system. To kick against the pricks... What had it accomplished? What could it ever accomplish?...
Suddenly a commotion occurred in the front of the shop. A pair of boys barged in shouting... "Sargent?! Are you here? It's urgent!?"
"Sargent?" Cadet Carter thought to himself in growing alarm...
"Give me just a moment Tenderfoot" Terrance said opening the door to the main room and joining the two boys in the front "Yes. I'm here boys. What do you need?"
The boys straightened up and offered a dutiful salute; "Sir. There's an urgent situation. We've lost one of our Cadets in an accident at the camp. He fell into the creek from exhaustion. We're worried he wasn't strong enough to keep afloat... We've been conducting a thorough search but haven't found any sign of him in this heavy storm. We've assembled an extensive search party including his family, the police, fire department, boy scouts, 4-h club, YMCA, at least a dozen church congregations, and even a few retired members of the coast guard. We could really use your help sir. We need everyone's help on this one. We can't lose our friend. Can you help us look for him?"
"Of course I'll help. I've got a few contacts at the VA office... I can get you some of the best people there are... Don't you worry, we'll find your lost friend." The Sargent said reassuringly. Both boys nodded in determined agreement and gratitude. Knowing the weight and authority the Sargent's assurances carried helped to put them both slightly at ease.
"Thank you Sargent" They said in unison
Cadet Carter was standing in the doorway in a dissociative stupor, his feet pooling water on the linoleum floor. His eyes beheld the sight of the barbershop that had been so close to him this hole time. He looked at the two Cadets in the receiving area looking muddy and out of sorts, not knowing how this interaction would proceed. They looked back at him not seeming to acknowledge him for who he was, or for what he was wearing.
"This is my friend, Tenderfoot" The Sargent explained, gesturing towards Cadet Carter. The boys seemed to accept the fact unquestioningly.
"Uh, Grant." Grant corrected weakly.
"We could use your help too, Sir." One of the boys admitted "We're assembling back at camp to start a meticulous sweep of each branching leg of the creek. Bring whoever you can and as many flashlights as you have. We need to go help organize the search for now, but we'll see you there, and thank you again for your help."
The two boys retreated with absolute conviction of purpose back into the storm, leaving Grant to reel in his thoughts and fears as the door closed behind them.
Grant turned slowly to look at the Sargent with wide eyes. How had this happened? He was free... and yet he ended up here. Was it the boots. Did they know he would have to walk in that particular direction if they softened his feet? Did he come here by some subconscious instruction? It couldn't have been by chance. He was actively directed here somehow, perhaps in may small ways...
"I'm sorry about the interruption; I thought our little session was going very well up to that point." The Sargent said with the same friendly demeanor.
"You were doing it to me, weren't you? You were manipulating me into thinking the way you wanted me to. Forcing ideas into my head. Trying to get me to accept your... whatever... to accept my life as a cadet."
"That's right." He admitted unapologetically, "And it was easier to do while your guard was down, but I don't mind the challenge..."
"No, I won't accept your ideas." Grant said closing his eyes and shaking his head. Trying to summon contrary ideas and points of view that went against the Sargent's.
"Obedience is bondage." "If a person changes they are no longer themselves." But it didn't ring true to him. Is that what he had believed before? It didn't sound right at all. That couldn't be a fair depiction of his prior thoughts, but he couldn't express the ideas in any other way. He continued to think experimentally "Obedience is freedom?"... to his horror, the idea was truth and wisdom to his mind.
"NO!" Grant screamed clasping his head in his hands and shaking violently. "Get them out, get these ideas out of my HEAD!"
"I'm afraid they're in there for good, Grant. You'll only grow to embrace them more over time. It starts out as a nagging little impulse, but the more you indulge the ideas the more they will take root and grow. They are a part of you now. My gift to you. Have a seat." The Sargent urged, gesturing to the nearest barber chair.
Grant wasn't about to stay here any longer, his initial impulse was to leave immediately, but he had just been told to sit... If he obeyed it would open doors for him and liberate him in ways he maybe didn't see right now... He found himself magnetically drawn to the chair in a peculiar way. He seemed to float to it and seat himself without effort or thought.
"Atta Boy" The Sargent said with satisfaction, draping the styling cloth around him.
"Did I ever have any chance of winning?" Grant questioned meekly.
"Of course." The Sargent said with a confused expression "I WANT you to win. I root for all my boys. I want to equip you with the tools you need to navigate the minefield of life. To WIN life. The only true success... Your dreams of escaping on the other hand, of finding a way back to that vulgar existence? That was impossible."
Grant tried to shield himself from the idea, but he could still feel it embed itself within his mind. It was as if an alternative personality were seating itself at the head of the figurative council of his thoughts, speaking over everyone and forcing them to cede their time.
"Now, this can go one of two ways. You can choose to accept your life as a perfect Cadet and receive that privilege in all of its glory right now today, or you can struggle and fight against me, but eventually I'll find every crack in your defenses. You'll feel yourself collapsing from within, your beliefs slipping away one by one. I won't stop until you've been remade and reborn, a perfect military specimen."
"I'll resist." Grant said angrily starting to form tears.
"It will do no good." The Sargent said pityingly
"I can't believe that; There must be a way out. I've come this far!" Grant exclaimed trying to bargain, forcing his mind away from the Sargent's talking points and beginning to focus on possible avenues of escape.
"You are exquisitely resilient, Grant; your mind is relentless. Always forming ideas and plans, scheming to get your way, forming strategies and plotting endless scenarios... Magnificent... No, there is only one outcome for you... I must collect you."
"Collect me?" He replied with fear catching in his throat
"I must have you accept this for yourself, willingly."
"I won't! You'll have to lobotomize me!"
"Perhaps you don't fully understand what that would entail, Grant. I'd need to influence the people around you. Get them to nurture the ideas I plant inside you. Your parents. Your friends. Your brother... He's enlistment age, isn't he? Yes... I think Jeremy would make a good example for you, Grant. A big brother who's military ideals you dream of living up to..."
"Leave him alone!" Grant Screamed trying to get up from the chair but finding his body repeatedly go limp after rising more than an inch or so.
"Of course. Of course. All you have to do is accept your fate." The Sargent admitted innocently
Grant weight the costs. He couldn't see any way out, and this man was threatening his family. How many people would he infect with his insane ideology before Grant eventually lost himself anyway? His choices had all been taken from him... He was helpless. He'd been helpless all along. The illusion of control was nothing but a carrot to lead him into this chair...
"I accept it." Grant said, trembling.
"Convince me, Grant." The Sargent said, folding his arms skeptically.
"Please Sargent. Make me a cadet. I want to be like my friends. I want to rejoin my platoon."
"That didn't sound very sincere at all, Grant."
Grant hated this. Wasn't it enough that he had submitted? He took a deep breath, calming his trembling nerves... He had to do this for his family now. He had to be convincing for them...
"It's true" Grant Said with a sigh "I really do want to be a model Cadet. I wasn't thinking right before; I had silly notions of freedom and individuality that I've thought better of now. You were right Sargent. I'd be proud if you made me one of your finest Cadets."
The Sargent probed deep into Grants mind searching for any hint of insincerity. Straightening up he grabbed his hands behind his back, leaned over and whispered into Grant's Ear... "Convince yourself..."
Grant cringed...
He began to think about what the Sargent had said. He began reviewing the new ideas he'd placed within him since he'd arrived. He played the Sargent's foreign notions through his brain repeatedly, trying his best to embrace them and adopt them into the core of his own belief system. He thought back to his platoon mates, they were like brothers. He thought about them looking for him and worrying for his safety. He considered how he should be there for them now. He considered how much better they were than him in so many ways. So confident and self assured. He did want that for himself. He wanted to be committed and driven and kind, and naively optimistic. He told himself that he didn't want to revert to his old ways, he needed to move forward, to progress. He told himself his thoughts of escape had been a waste of effort, that he could have accomplished things of great value if he'd abandoned those silly notions of escape. Escape was not only impossible, it was a mistake! His best future would come in accepting his place as a model Cadet. It would open countless doors for him and he would make his leaders proud. He would make himself proud. He would be proud to be a Cadet!
As that final thought entered his mind, something happened... For a mere instant Grant actually believed he wanted to be one of Sargent's little soldiers, and though it should have been a fleeting momentary impulse, it stuck and wasn't going away. It was as if the part of his mind that was entertaining the thought of becoming a model cadet had paused and grown immune to further deliberation and reason. Now that he'd embraced the desire, even if only for that short instant, it had become self sustaining; it didn't require continued feeding or justification. It was set in place and immovable.
"That's it!" The Sargent said with glee. "You've accepted it... You've won."
The Sargent brought out his clippers and switched them on with satisfaction. He placed the number two guard over the blade and began mowing away the small amount of growth that had accumulated over the past week. The small pieces of hair stuck together naturally and fell around Grant in tiny clumps.
The Sargent impressed upon the boy the same ideals of teamwork and loyalty and friendship that he had forced upon his platoon mates. He impressed upon him an insatiable drive to fulfill his superior's needs and anticipate and meet them with or without order. He embedded within the boy a drive to overcome his limitation and push beyond his limits without fear of failure and to support and encourage his friends and brothers in doing the same. He impressed upon him an aptitude for leadership and for helping future subordinates realize the value and necessity of obedience in all things.
Having finished the initial trim, he removed the number two guard and proceeded to denude the sides and back of Cadet Carter's head with the unprotected clippers.
The Sargent continued by pushing the idea of using his skill of overthinking and deeply analyzing situations to improve his platoon and help them achieve their goals. He imbued the cadet with an unshakeable willingness to accept the Officer's directions and happily conform to whatever the man saw fit to require. He would prioritize the needs of others before himself. He would conduct himself with appropriate politeness and class in all situations and never feel any shame in doing so. He would also be as blindly loyal, and fiercely naive to any point of view that ran contrary to his adopted ideals, as were his fellow Cadets. He would always take deep pride in his position as a Cadet. He would also take deep pride in his own body, and never shy away from displaying it to others nor feel disgust or embarrassment by any of its natural odors or functions.
Finally he evened out the margin with a number one guard and sprayed a layer of water around the boy's head performing a final pass on all three sides with a straight razor to remove any hint of stubble, leaving the sides and back of the boy's head permanently and completely free of any hair or follicular discoloration. His changes were now sealed within him, completely accepted into the core of his being forever.
"There you are Cadet. take a look." The Sargent said, removing the styling cloth to reveal Cadet Carter's clean and tidy dress uniform.
Cadet Carter began to assess himself. He felt different. Energized. It was as though his body was humming with electricity, physically vibrating with energy he just had to put to use. Now he understood why his platoon mates acted the way they did. The energy was just aching to be released. He smiled and gazed at his reflection. He looked so nice in his uniform and he was immensely proud to wear it in front of anyone and everyone! He felt the sides of his head it was so smooth.
"Will it ever regrow?" Cadet Carter asked in amazement.
"Never again. That's my guarantee." The Sargent replied smiling.
"I love it! Thank you so much Sargent. I don't know why I was so afraid the whole time... This is fantastic!" Cadet Carter said trying to contain his exuberance and continuing to inspect his new perfectly sculpted high and tight haircut
"One more thing before you go Cadet." The Sargent said, "Be sure to talk to your brother Jeremy and let him know about my shop. I think he could really benefit from some of my guidance... I'd like to put him on the right path."
"Sure thing Sarge. He'd like that. He really enjoys physical activity. He could be just perfect for the military life with a little help, and I could teach him what I know too... I'll speak to Sir about allowing correspondence home, and I'll start writing to him as soon as I can!"
"There's a lad." The Sarge replied with a hint of hidden relish.
"Now to put you back where you belong." -
There was a sudden flash. Cadet Carter became disoriented, suddenly he was cold and it was dark and he could hear voices around him. He slowly became aware of the wetness all over him and the throng of excitement. He was being lifted up from the ground. someone turned him over to face the sky. He saw what looked like the whole town moving down to join him at the base of a ditch in the soft falling rain.
"Are you alright? Cadet, are you alright?" He heard an authoritative man repeating to him
"I'm alright." Cadet Carter said, regaining his energy. "I actually feel really good! What happened?"
"You fainted and fell into the creek. Your platoon mates organized this entire search and rescue operation to find you." came the reply from an unknown voice.
Suddenly his friends game into view. They looked like angels to him. They were his brothers. They were covered in mud and drenched to the bone but he'd never seen a better sight.
"Couldn't have been too rough of a ride. Five miles down stream and you didn't even lose your hat!"Cadet Stone said smiling, causing relieved, friendly laughter to spread through the crowd.
Cadet Carter reached up to inspect his head and discovered it was true. He smiled and thanked everyone for their efforts. He owed the entire town a debt of gratitude and he intended to serve the community back for their kind, selfless work.
Once he was cleared by the medical examiner he spoke with his family and let them know what a wonderful program he was involved in at the boot camp. He was most excited when he had a chance to tell Jeremy about his good friend and mentor The Sarge, and about the free hair cut that was waiting for him at his shop, any style on the house!
"You should pay him a visit before you go home. He's a great man" he said reassuringly.