Vacation by Jeremy C. Shipp

have an uncanny ability to deny and to forget ideas that don’t coincide with their own viewpoint. To impart unwelcome knowledge is the same as forcing a revolution in a country that isn’t your own. It doesn’t work, unless the process starts from the inside. Therefore, my position will be to act as a guide. To point you in the right direction if and when you find yourself lost. Everything else concerning this indoctrination will be your own doing.” Her dirty fingernails trace along a flower etching on the photo album. “In order to succeed in the indoctrination process, you must answer one question. The question being, what is the true purpose of the Vacation? This is one of those simple-sounding inquiries like that of a child. However, such questions as ‘Why is the sky blue?’ are often times the most difficult to answer. So take your time.” She folds her hands on the album and stares at me. “Begin when you’re ready.”
    The more time passes, the more uncomfortable she looks, and the more uncomfortable I feel.
    I wonder how many people convert to another religion or change political parties or restructure their ideologies simply because of pity or because they want to be polite.
    “I don’t know what to say,” I say.
    “Start with the knowledge you already have. What do you know about the Vacation? What is the Vacation?”
    “The Vacation is an all-expense paid, one year tour around the world for every citizen.” Somehow, I want to say more. I want to impress her. “All-expense paid is a misnomer. By and large this is tax-money we’re talking about. And we do have to wear these stupid ad shirts almost every day.”
    “And why is it, Mr. Johnson, that the citizens are only allowed one year to travel globally?”
    “Taking turns and limiting our time in various countries is the only way to manage international travel in a world as overpopulated as ours.”
    “I see. Now, you’ve already mentioned the ad-wear. It may be pertinent to consider who else might be benefiting from the Vacation system.”
    “Well, the most obvious beneficiaries are the vacationers themselves.”
    “How do they benefit?”
    “That’s not something I’d care to generalize. Everyone has their own reason for leaving.”
    “An interesting choice of words. If you can’t generalize, then perhaps you can specify your own reason or reasons for leaving. What did you hope to accomplish on this trip?”
    This is a simple enough question, and therefore requires a very complex answer.
    If I open myself up, and tell her my feelings, then I’d be connecting this reality to my old real reality.
    I tell myself the insanity of this situation is the reason I don’t want to tell her why I went on Vacation.
    I tell myself that, because I don’t know why I went on Vacation.
    And maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to know why.
    She looks at me like the teacher I always wanted to become.
    Should I speak, like Marvin would?
    “I wasn’t happy with my life,” I say, feeling both defeated and victorious. And this combination is surprisingly calming. “I went on Vacation because I wanted to find myself.”
    “What exactly does that mean, find yourself?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Perhaps the more telling question would be, have you accomplished your goal? Have you found yourself?”
    I shrug, and I’m not lying.
    “What kind of person would you like to be when you return home?” she says.
    “I want to know that I’m capable of more than I assumed.”
    “And you don’t know this yet?”
    “No.”
    “But, Mr. Johnson, you went to New Zealand. You had adventure after adventure. You’ve proven your courage on more than one occasion. And yet now, you don’t feel capable?”
    I almost laugh. “Jumping out of a plane doesn’t make you a courageous person.”
    “It doesn’t?”
    “My girlfriend back home, she’s an adrenaline junkie. She’s been that way ever since she went on her Vacation. But believe me when I tell you this,