Dreamland

Join the Club

I'm in a brightly lit hall , it looks like it could be a school cafeteria or a gymnasium, the type of place used as a temporary voting station. There are folding chairs and tables set up, and people are enlisting in a patriotic organization of some sort. I decide to join. Their recruiter hands me an enrollment card, which I quickly fill out. At the bottom is a space for my thumbprint. When I ask the recruiter about it, he says the print must be made with my blood. I pick up a push pin from a table. Before pricking my thumb with it, I ask if there is any alcohol available to sterilize the pin. The recruiter says "Oh, you won't need to use that pin, John here will take care of that for you."

The recruiter's assistant pulls out a cordless Makita with a bloody 1/8" drill bit on it, and before I have time to react he quickly drills a hole through my jeans into my right thigh. Blood comes spurting out, and I quickly cover the wound with my thumb. The recruiter pulls my bloody thumb away and presses it on the enrollment card to get my print, then hands me my membership card. "Let the blood flow a little before you bandage it to wash out any germs." he says.

I take his advice, then pull my jeans halfway down and sit on a wooden folding chair to wrap a bandage around my thigh. I stand up and pull my pants back up. The blood oozes through the bandage and soaks the denim, but it appears to be slowing to the point where I'm not too concerned about blood loss. I walk away from the hall with my membership card.