Jerry woke up back on the school bed. He waited for the end of the school day before leaving and going home. Once home, he read all he could in books and old magazines in an attempt to somehow find a way to overcome what had happened to him. He read until he fell tired, then reluctantly fell asleep on his own.
He woke up back in the cell. His breakfast was waiting at the door slot, so he ate it. He sat there for a couple hours before the door opened. A guard was there and ordered Anton to follow him. They went to a different office than the one the night before, and Anton was told to go in.
Anton walked in, and saw an officer sitting behind a desk. Behind the officer was a loaded bookself, and in front of the desk was a chair. On the desk were several folders, one open.
"Are you Anton Sheranadze?" the man asked him in asked in a neutral and emotionless tone.
"Yes, sir." Anton replied.
"Sit down." Anton went over to to chair and sat.
"Could I know why I'm being detained?"
The officer was unmoved, "You are the son of Yuri and Catrinia Sheranadze?"
"Yes, sir."
The officer looked at the open folder, then asked, "Did you spend some time in a mental hospital?"
"Yes, when I was very young."
The officer looked at the folder some more, "According to this, you were speaking American words, as well as Russian, as a baby. Is that true?"
"Yes, sir."
"Also, you actually thought you went to America, the result of regular dreaming about the place and a toddler's imagination. Is that also true?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you still have these dreams?"
"Yes, sir, but I have long recognized that they were just that: dreams."
The officer wrote something down on a paper before asking again, "Have you ever heard anything from your parents about their spying on the State?"
"No, sir, they aren't spies."
"Have you seen any of your parents' notes about information they stole, or any of the information itself?"
"No, they took nothing."
The officer was unphased, "Did you assist in any way in your parents' spying activities?"
Anton was begining to get exasperated, "No, none of us were into spying."
"So, you are saying you were unaware of your parents' spying?"
"My parents were staunch in their loyalty to the State; they couldn't have been spying."
The officer wrote some more on the paper, and looked into another folder, "This says that as a student, you rose questions about the accuracy of reports of the dismal condition of the American people and the crimes of the American government. Is that true?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why?"
"I heard reports to the contrary."
"Where?"
"Actually ..... I dreamed America was better than the media said it was."
The officer wrote more on the paper, "What about the accent you had?"
"A result of the dreams."
"How often did your dreams include America?"
"Regularly."
"Be more specific."
Anton tried to think of an appropriate half-truth, but after four seconds he could not find one, "Nightly."
"You dreamed about America every single night?"
"Yes, sir."
The officer wrote on the paper some more, then looked at the folders some more, "In your conversations with Leon Belsin, you described some classified information about the State's armed forces. Where did you hear them?"
Anton was stunned about their knowing of what he had told his friend, but gave an answer, "In my dreams."
"You dreamed the information?"
"Yes, sir, often they would say something that later proved to be correct."
"Did your parents stay up after you went to bed?"
"Yes, sir, but what does that have to do with it?"
The officer ignored Anton's question as he again wrote on the paper, "I have all I need to know for now; the guard will take you to your room."
Anton left the office, trying to figure out what sense the officer made out of what he had told him.
After Jerry woke up in America, he was in a somber mood all day. After he fell asleep and woke up as Anton, he was still in the cell. Less than an hour later, two guards opened the door and ordered him to follow them. They took him to a van similar to the one he arrived in earlier. They ordered him in, and then the van left the place. When it stopped, and two guards ordered him out, Anton saw where he had been taken. There was a large two-story building with several wings. It was in a huge area enclosed by a tall chain fence. There was no other building in sight, only country fields. As Anton was escorted to the building by the guards, he noticed a sign at the entrance, 'MENTAL INSTITUTE'.
Anton had been put away.
In America, Jerry's life took a turn for the worst. Over the next few days, his mood remained depressed, he seldom talked to anyone, he didn't play any games, and he was unable to pay much attention in school. Naturally, his parents were begining to get worried; Steven was too.
One afternoon in his American home, a few days after his being committed in Russia, Jerry was in his room studying a book on Russian mental hospitals when his father entered. "Son," he spoke, "I'd like to talk to you."
"Sure, Dad" Jerry spoke uncertainly, as he put the book aside.
"You were becoming quite happy in the past few months, but in the past few days your mood has sunk like a rock. What is it? Did some jerk pressure you into drugs?"
"No, but I can't blame you for wondering."
"Get a girlfreind and she dumped you?"
"Didn't get one in the first place."
"You haven't been listening to those hard rock music songs, have you?"
"No I haven't; you asked me not to."
"What is it then?"
Jerry thought for a moment, then decided to tell his problem in a way that could be believed, "I still dream of Russia."
His father was stunned, "You still do?"
"Yes, I just simply stopped talking about it."
"So that's it?"
"More specifically," he paused for a moment to think of the words to say, "I dreamed, you, my parents and I, we were taken by the authorites."
"You dreamed that?"
"Yes, it was horrifying."
"Do you still dream that?"
"After that, I dreamed I wound up in prison."
His father thought for a moment, then, "You worry too much about the Russians. Find something else to do before you drive yourself crazy; go play with your friends; go play some games; do something."
"Well, okay. I'll go walk over to the arcade." Jerry had decided to go along with his father's advice; he didn't want to end up in two mental institutes. Before he walked out of the front doorway, something caught his mind's attention, "Hey Dad?"
"Yes?"
"What did you mean about hard rock music; why did you say it was bad for you?"
"That junk has subliminal messages in the lyrics. I heard about a guy who fell asleep listening to it, and then went out on a rampage."
"Okay Dad, thanks." He then walked out the door and started walking to the arcade he mentioned, two blocks away down the suburban neighborhood. As he walked, what his father had told him about the rock music stuck to his mind. What was so significant about subliminal messages? He thought hard about it for a few minutes, then the answer came to him. The Russian officer had asked him if he went to bed before his parents did. If they believed his "dreams" were the result of hearing his parents discuss America and the Soviet Union, he as Anton was in danger of being stuck in the institute for the rest of his life. His Russian parents were in danger of losing their lives.
Jerry never went to the arcade. He just walked around the neighborhood, thinking about what to do. When he came back to his house, his parents did not ask where he was.
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