The young and curious American by thadeusz

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This story is of course full fiction.
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My parents are, or were I don’t know, Robert and Mary Carlson. When I was born, they named me Peter. 18 months later, they got a girl they named Carla. We lived then in Fairbanks and my father was a doctor in Fairbanks Memorial Hospital. I was a US citizen and I was proud of my country.

I had relatively long brown hair falling down to my shoulders. I was also very proud of my new "hidden hair" covering my chest. I was even more proud of my recent pubic hair proving, according to my friends, that I was now a real "man".

At school, I was a good student and my parents liked that. When I turned 13 there was a great feast and my parents decided to offer me a great trip to a small republic, an island in the Pacific ocean. It was decided that we would go, the four of us, for one month to that island. Since I had excellent school results, they bought me a new and modern camera. I immediately started to take numerous digital pictures.

We went to this island by boat, which was already a great trip. Once we arrived there, we were greeted by the local population. I know now that it was a special arrangement for good guests, but I did not know that on our arrival day and I really liked it. After that we went to our hotel and I started to take pictures.

On my first day on this island, I walked through some streets and I went to the beach: the weather was great, neither too hot nor too cold. The locals told me that it very seldom rained and that it was never very cold.

The next day, I started walking alone … with my new and modern camera. I took pictures wherever I could go. One day, at the corner of a small street, I saw men wearing what looked like burlap robes, without hoods, who were cleaning the trash left in front of some houses. These men had a plain leather belt and leather sandals but no socks. I was looking at these men from a distance and I noticed that they had some sort of bracelet on each wrist and a sort of collar on their neck. I could not see clearly the details of their strange clothing since I was too far. I tried to get closer to these people, all of them being men, and I took a picture. I also asked them what they were doing. A tall man in an elegant blue uniform with elegant copper buttons was standing nearby. He stopped me and told me:
"My boy, these men are slaves and you are not supposed to speak with them, nor to take pictures."
"Why are they slaves ?" was my question.
"Because they behaved badly and were sentenced by a court to serve the state as slaves", was the answer. This man added:
"It is strictly forbidden to take pictures of these slaves, in order to respect what is left of their dignity."

I went further away, not asking more questions, but well decided to get information about these "slaves" in a world where, according to my parents and my teachers, slavery had been abolished. I had meanwhile noticed an interesting place for the following "excursion".

The next day, I left our hotel very early and alone. I had my camera with me and I went to a place I had noticed on my previous "excursion". The entrance was barred by a huge inscription: "Slave domain, NO ENTRY. Forbidden to take pictures." I decided to enter anyway !

I immediately saw men wearing the same uniform as the men I had seen the day before. They were working hard to clean the streets or to make new road pavements. I could see now that they were wearing chains and were supervised by guards wearing neat blue uniforms with shiny brass buttons. Each guard had a big whip attached to his wide leather belt. The guards had solid leather boots but the men in red had only leather sandals and no socks. These men, which I supposed were the slaves announced by the inscription, did not seem unhappy and some were even smiling while working.

I decided to take as many pictures as I could to show them to my schoolmates.

Suddenly a guard came towards me and said:
"My boy, you didn’t read what is written on the board placed at the entrance of this street ?"
"Yes Sir, I did read it and I understand what is written on it."
"But you took pictures, which is forbidden."
"Yes Sir, but that was only to show them to my schoolmates outside this island."
"That too is forbidden. You will follow me to the Police office. Now I confiscate your camera."
"But Sir, it is my birthday present."
"How old are you, my boy ?"
"I am thirteen Sir."
"On this Island at 13 you are an adult. Follow me without any form of protest, otherwise I will have to put my handcuffs on you."
"You won’t do that, Sir. I am a tourist."
That’s exactly what this guard did : he got hold of me, forced me to place my hands on my back and handcuffed me. He also got hold of my new camera and forced me to march towards the Police office. There, he pushed me, as I was, in a cell where he left me for a long time, with my hands on my back.

In the cell, there was only a stool fixed to the ground and a horizontal plank fixed to the wall by chains. There was a small opening towards the outside. This small opening was blocked by strong bars.

The policeman came back much later and took off the handcuffs, but he left me in this cell. He simply warned me that I would have to appear soon in front of a Judge because of my "crime". He then gave me bread and water for my supper.

In fact, I was left in this cell for three days with nothing else than bread and water, without any explanation. I asked to see my parents but I was told:
"Your parents have been warned and they are doing what they can for you. Keep calm and quiet."
That did not help me and I was very anxious.

Finally, very early on my fourth day in this cell, the policeman came back and told me:
"Today, you are going to be sent to court. The judge is very severe and he does not like foreigners. He does not like men with long hair, so I suggest that I cut your hair here."
"But I am not yet a man, only a boy," was my reply.
"How old are you, young man ?"
"Sir, I just turned 13."
"On this island, at your age, you are considered as an adult fully responsible. Accept my kind offer."

I was anxious and afraid by the words uttered by this policeman, or guard I don’t really know. I accepted his offer. He told me to sit on the stool but he did not cape me. Once again, he placed my hands on my back and handcuffed me. He then started to cut my long and beloved hair. He used scissors and started to define a horizontal line above my ears. In order to do that he used a comb and organized my hair in what he called "a neat way". He cut along this line, turning around me and shouting regularly: "Boy, don’t move". When he was satisfied with his cutting business, he took off the handcuffs and he gave me a broom. He told me then to clean the cell floor, pushing all the hair bits in the toilet.

The first thing I did was to touch my hair and I cried when I realized how short and well organized my beloved and carefully disorganized hair had become. I then took the broom and obeyed this policeman’s (or guard) order: I pushed all the hair bits in a corner, near the vertical opening serving as a toilet.

About an hour later, the same guard came and fetched me. He handcuffed me once again, placing my hands on my back. But this time he added something: he placed shackles on my ankles and advised me to keep silent during my trial.

This trial took place in a small room. My parents were present, but I could not speak with them. A young man came near me and told me: "Your parents have chosen me as lawyer for your case, which is quite serious. Keep quiet unless questioned by the judge and let me try to save you. Try to show that you are an obedient and ignorant young man."

I automatically pushed my head down to show the Judge that I was an obedient kid … and all my newly "ball cut" hair fell over my eyes, hiding my face !

Suddenly the Judge entered the room dressed in a black robe. He sat in the middle of the forefront, facing me. Next to him was his clerk. My lawyer made me a sign showing that I had to remain standing, keeping my hands carefully behind my back, handcuffed.

The Judge asked his clerk: "What is the problem today ?"
"A foreigner who wanted to take pictures of our slaves, Your Honor."
The Judge turned towards me and asked:
"Why did you do that ? It is clearly written that it is forbidden !"
"Yes, your Honor, but I wanted to take pictures because we don’t have slaves where I live."
"But you knew that it was forbidden ?"
"Yes your Honor."
"So why did you do it ?"
"To show the pictures to my schoolmates, your Honor."
"And showing forbidden pictures to your schoolmates was worth a very serious punishment ?"
"Well, your Honor, we are only boys."
"How old are you ?"
"I turned 13 a few months ago, your Honor."
"At your age you are considered an adult in this country. I assume you like this country ?"
"Oh, yes your Honor."
"Good. I decide that you will stay here forever as a slave serving this country you like."

My lawyer interfered and said that I was not really conscious of what I had done. The Judge replied that transforming me into a slave would teach me to think before acting. The lawyer pleaded that I should only get a suspended sentence:
"Your Honor, you could decide that this young man should be a slave in our state but that he should be immediately expelled from our land. Should he dare to come back, he would then definitely become a slave of our Republic."

The Judge thought for a few minutes and then gave his final sentence:
"This man will be treated as a slave, but I will impose on him a special condition which I will formulate at a later moment. Should this condition be satisfied within 3 months, this individual will be expelled as you asked, but otherwise, he will serve forever as one of our slaves."

Having said that, the Judge retired to his chambers and my guard took me back, with handcuffs and shackles, to my little cell. My parents tried to speak with me but they were told that "a free person is not allowed to speak with a slave he or she does not own."

I spent the rest of the day locked in my little cell. Early, the next morning and before I got my daily grub, two guards came to "transport" me to my place of detention. I was hungry and afraid. I was led to a camp, inside the compound reserved for slaves. There a big man with a nice gray uniform with many golden stripes told me that he was the Captain and told me that I would immediately be transformed into a real slave.

The first step was an order to abandon all my clothes, shoes included. I was then led, naked, to the center of a big square formed by men wearing the special uniform I had observed for the slaves. I was shivering, more by fear than by cold since it was a very hot day.

The difference between the slave uniforms I had seen before from far away and the uniforms I was seeing now, was the fact that now I was seeing them from very near, knowing that this uniform would be mine in a few minutes.

In the center of this big square, there was a sort of big metallic table with chains in several places. The Captain gave then his first order:
"Let this slave be circled."
At first, this did not make sense for me! But I soon realized that I was pushed towards the central table and forced to lie on it. Four men in slave uniform started to place metallic circles on my ankles and on my wrists. These circles were carefully adjusted so that I could not get rid of them. Each circle had a smaller circle attached to it and I wondered what purpose this could have. Finally the Captain came and adjusted a fifth metal circle to my neck, again with an additional little ring attached to it.

The Captain adjusted chains linking the corners of the table to each of my 5 metal circles. He then said:
"This is the first step into your enslavement. The second step is getting a new identification. Your identification number is as of now 2.147.983, but inside this camp we are going to call you ‘TOM’. Understood ?"
I replied in a weak voice : "Yes, sir"
The Captain hit me with a stick he was carrying and said: "From now on you will say ‘YES, CAPTAIN’ and you will call ‘MASTER’ each of your guards. Understood ?"
"YES, CAPTAIN" was my reply … still lying on that table.

The Captain added something I disliked:
"Now, we are going to clean you and let you get rid of all this stupid hair."
He made a sign and four other slaves came towards the table where I was still lying. One got hold of my hair and shaved all of it with an old fashioned shaver and some water. This guy took his time and finally left me bald … at the age of 13. A second started to clean my chest, leaving no hair on it. The third one "cleaned" my pubic hair and the fourth one took care of my armpits, my legs and other untreated parts of my body. At the end of this process I was left completely bald, exactly like the baby I was at birth.

Finally another slave came forward. He was young and the Captain called him "Sam". I was unshackled and told to stand up "like a man" and to look at the table. "Sam" took my place on this torture table and was treated as I had been treated. The Captain simply said:
"Sam will be your brother during your first days here. He will show you what you must do and what you cannot even think to do."
And Sam ended by being completely cleaned as I was now.
The only difference was that Sam had clothes at hand and that in two minutes he was again dressed like all the other slaves. I still hoped to have a better future but I started to doubt more and more.

That’s the moment when the Captain gave me sandals, without socks. He also gave me my new clothes : in fact the clothes were only a sort of sack in burlap with a hole for the head and two tiny openings with small tubes for the arms. The whole thing was rather ugly and looked uncomfortable. I passed it over my head and realized that, strangely enough, it was not as uncomfortable as I thought and even that it would be practical for work, since I now felt that I would have to work at least a little bit.

The Captain fixed a label on my robe with my number and name. He also attached a chain around my waist where "Sam" had a leather belt. Finally, he gave me sandals with the order: "Put these immediately on your feet."
Of course, as a slave, I had no undies and that made me feel diminished !!!

The Captain then gave me his instructions: "Tom, as a new slave you must remain silent for three months. Slave Sam, here present, is placed in the same situation for 8 days. He will show you how you must behave as of now if you want to avoid my whip. He is not allowed to speak now, so he will show you how to behave. Follow his example."

The Captain added: "Tom, you have nothing to eat your daily grub. Sam will give you his bowl and spoon as a sign of friendship."
Solemnly Sam then gave me the bowl attached to his belt and the spoon fixed to it. The Captain concluded:
"You are now brothers in slavehood. Go and work together but remain silent for the time imposed by the law."

Sam made me a sign showing that I had to follow him. He led me silently to my place in the ranks, next to him. On the way he intelligently showed me how to march and how to salute the guards. Marching was easy: I simply had to march "in step", like our US soldiers. The salute was strange: Sam showed me that I now had to place my right hand on the top of my bare head to salute a guard or the Captain. He told me later, when he was again allowed to speak, that this a sign used to show that we, the slaves, are conscious of the fact that as slaves we are only obedient subhumans.

It was already noon and the Captain gave the order "to dismantle the quadrangle for grub". All the slaves formed into a line and got the bowl attached to their belt. Sam showed me, by signs, that I had to do the same and to share my meal with him. Food was astonishingly abundant, seconds were available and most important, food was good.

Sam led me then to our room. It was a big hall with 2 groups of 15 planks placed on pegs and facing each other, slightly above the ground. There were no covers, but the weather was permanently hot. Sam showed me an empty plank facing what he showed me as his plank. That was thus from now on my own bed. This "bed" was provided with small chains "in case we had to be punished" showed Sam with very explicit gestures. Finally, Sam showed me a little shelf on top of our "plank": that was the place were we could keep some personal objects. Sam’s "bed" was just opposite mine and he took me there to show me his treasure: pictures of a small boy looking like him. Using gestures only, Sam made me understand that this little boy was his son. This astonished me: Sam seemed to be the same age as me, or at most one year older.

That was the end of the introductory visit. Sam took me then to a guard, saluted him by placing his slave hand horizontally on top of his head (and I did the same) and showed that we were at his disposal. The guard told us (verbally, he had no restriction) to arrange a pile of wood. That was my first work as a slave.

At sundown, a bugle sounded signaling the end of the day’s work. I followed Sam in a queue in order to get our evening meal. We shared this meal as the previous one and we ate it together in silence. After that, we went to our barrack where I tried to sleep on my plank, my new bed. The other slaves of this room discussed for a certain time, but Sam went to his bunk and slept nearly immediately. I tried to sleep, but I wept for my lost freedom, my lost new camera … and my uncomfortable bed.

The next day, after the bugle call, we got our morning soup and all the slaves of our group, Sam included, left for work. I remained lonely in the camp, because I had to appear in front of the Captain.

When I finally arrived in front of the man who was now my chief and master, I chose to march as Sam had shown me to do. As soon as I was in front of "my" Captain, I saluted him as Sam had shown me I should do. My chief smiled in silence. The Captain had an important message for me:
"Your Judge has decided that, since you were ignorant, you might be freed upon one condition. He ordered me to get pictures, with your camera, of all phases of your enslavement procedure. These pictures have been sent to your former school. There was also a message with the pictures: ‘If you publish all these pictures in your school journal within 3 months, the new slave will be set free and sent back to your country. Otherwise he will remain a slave.’ Now, slave Tom, you get a copy of these pictures and you must go and clean the kitchen."

There was thus a possibility for me to rejoin my family as a free man ! Strangely enough, I was not sure that I still wanted to be with my parents: here I was a slave, but also I was considered as a Man, an adult. I got my pictures and placed them on my little shelf and immediately after I went, obediently, to the kitchen where I started to clean all the pots, pans and floor. It was a lot of work since there were many slaves in this camp, but I did not mind: cleaning was my "adult" responsibility.

My life as a slave continued for a certain time. I was completely shaved every week and I remained silent as ordered. I also remained in chains which was uncomfortable, but it was something I accepted without restriction because it made me enter the group of adult slaves.

I soon stopped cleaning the kitchen and started cleaning the streets of the town. Then I had other chores to do and I liked that because I was again with Sam. After a week, Sam was again allowed to speak and he explained all kinds of tricks to survive comfortably as a slave. He also told me that the picture of the baby he had shown me was indeed a picture of his son. His problem was that an adult had tried to steel the baby and to rape his girlfriend: he had killed this naughty person without asking for the help of the police. That’s why he had been sentenced to slavehood. But he had the possibility to see his girlfriend and his son once a month. He invited me to come and see them next time they came to our compound.

After a certain time, I had not counted the days, the Captain called me again to his office. I was now used to marching according to regulations and to saluting my superiors according to the "flat hand" rule.

The Captain told me that he liked my way of behaving. He considered that my integration in the slave universe was very positive for my future life here. He personally thought that I should be set free, but my school had refused to publish what they called "degrading pictures". This was the only condition imposed by the Judge to set me free. But my school chose to let me be a slave rather than to humiliate my parents and me. In any case, they considered that if I had been sentenced by a local Judge, it was probably because I deserved it. Therefore they did not want to hear about me.

The Captain seemed really sorry for me. He added that since I was now forever a slave, he saw no point in keeping me in an even more humiliating status by imposing me to remain in chains and by forbidding me to speak with the other slaves and with guards. I made the adequate salute for my Captain and went to a department where I was freed of all my chains. I now received a real leather waist belt. I felt much more comfortable in my uniform immediately after that.

Despite the Captain attitude and apparent opinion, I was not at all unhappy. Before becoming a slave, I was a little boy aged 13 and I had to remain under the close scrutiny of my parents. Now that I was a full slave, I felt really like an adult. Moreover, I had my daily task and I had come to respect and even like that routine. This included the way I had to sleep and work with others. Best of all, this included Sam who was now a real friend. Better, since I was now allowed to speak and walk without chains, Sam was now my equal and I secretly admired him for being a father.

One day, Sam and I had a few rest hours. Sam took me to a place where his girlfriend could come and meet him. The object of that encounter was to let me meet Radisla, his girlfriend and, more importantly, Terno, his one year son. Terno was a beautiful baby and I started dreaming of having one myself. My problem was that I was a slave and could not go out to meet girls the way Sam had done before being sentenced for life.

I kept working according to the same routine, doing all kinds of chores and helping to keep the city clean. I was usually with Sam. One day, when I was slightly older than 14, the Captain called me into his office. The Captain told me that a free member of the community, Madam Radina, had recently lost her husband. She wanted a helper to keep her house clean. She had required the help of a male slave and the Captain had chosen me to go and help that young widow.

Radina came to our camp and told me to follow her with my small belongings. I started, under her authority, a life of house slave. I did my best to keep the house clean, but my Mistress wanted me to get a shower every evening. She added to that a new haircut every week. She cut my hair in a new way: no longer reducing it to zero as the camp Barber had done, but on the contrary letting it grow nearly as it was before I was sentenced to slavehood.

Soon after I arrived at her house, she explained that she needed massages every evening in her bed. She pushed me in her bed and she made me discover the joys of non solitary manhood. I really liked that and we did it several days in a row. I should say, we did it very often.

One day, Radina told me: "Tom, you will soon be a father and your child will help me save my heritage because that child will inherit the fortune of my deceased husband. Your mission is accomplished, but you can stay here as a house slave until after the birth of my child. You will then go back to the slave camp."

I stayed in Radina’s house until her baby was three months old and then I had to leave my son, a future free man, and go back to the slave camp. There, I was chained once again. It was not a punishment, but the Captain told me: "Tom, you did well but now you must be reacquainted with full slave discipline. So for three months you will remain in chains and you are not allowed to speak."

It was not funny, but it was the rule. I had always been a disciplined slave, so I accepted this additional restriction. The good thing was that I was again working with Sam.

I had been far from my camp for nearly one year and now that I think about it, this brutal restriction to chains was a good thing. It enabled me to keep working hard as a good slave without thinking too much about my son … and Radina.

I kept working as a slave for about three years. I had just turned 18 when I was called, once again, in the Captain office. My chief told me the following:
"Tom, you are a good slave and a good worker. You don’t seem unhappy here with your friends, especially with slave Sam. But the US government has insisted on regaining full property of you. So our government has decided, since you are our slave, to sell you to the US Marines. You are thus as of now a slave of the US Marines. You will be chained for a last time in order to leave this camp immediately."

The Captain did not seem pleased that he had to surrender one of his men to the US Marines, but I understood later that there had been pressures and threats from the US government if the Island government did not accept to set me free. In order to do so without losing their right to be the only judges on their soil, the government chose the fiction of "selling" me as a real slave.

I was led, in chains, to a ship where I met a US Marine officer. He told me that my chains would be taken away immediately, provided I accepted their deal: enlist immediately in the US Marines. This officer barked as follows:
"My boy, you will again be a free man. But in order to obtain that, we had to pay a lot to this Island stupid government. You are thus going to enlist for 4 years plus 2 years. During your first 4 years, your pay will be reduced to nearly zero. This will enable you to reimburse the amount of money we had to give to these stupid islanders in order to free you. Sign here and now."
And he showed me a paper where I simply had to sign.
I did not like what he was saying about my masters: they were severe but fair and after all they treated me well. So before signing I asked:
"And what are you doing about my son?"
"You have never been married, so you have no son. Sign now or …"
"What will happen if I refuse to enlist ?"
"In that case you are going to be judged for high treason and sent to a very strict prison for life, without any activity."

I had heard that this was a possibility with the US Marines, so I signed this document enslaving me once more.

I went to boot camp, and then to a Marine regiment. I did not rapidly have the promotions I could have had because I did not have the required minimal diplomas. But I was a good soldier, obedient and performing well. After 3 years I was promoted to PFC and two years later to Lance Corporal and then to Corporal. I don’t like being a US Marine, but I cannot avoid it.

I have never been reunited with my parents: I was given a new name and a new birth certificate as an "immigrant". I was told that, as a soldier now, I was not allowed to communicate with my parents. My Colonel likes me. He suggested that I try to study alone in order to become a qualified Marine. He considers that I have been dreadfully treated and that my life as a US Marine has to be better. I don’t agree, but I keep quiet.

I tried to have news from my former slave colleagues, and especially from Sam and also from my son and his mother. But none of them replied to my letters.

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