by T. C. Edge
Among them, I see Humphrey. I doubt the desecration of his beloved mural seems so bad now, given that the entire square lies in ruin.
As I look at the Deputy, I feel the urge to sink away into the crowd again and disappear, my head starting to throb at the sight of him. I begin pressing back, and as I do so step on someone’s foot behind me. They yelp out loudly, and push me in the back.
“Watch where you’re going will you!”
I turn to see an aggressive looking woman glaring right at me, a redness around her eyes. I immediately wonder if she knew someone who died here yesterday, a thought that quells any desire to retaliate.
The stern voice of a Con-Cop behind the barrier provides another compelling reason.
“Hold up there, what’s the problem?” he asks firmly.
“Nothing…nothing,” I say. “Just an accident.”
The woman’s eyes redden further, narrowing.
“First you barge past me, then you stamp on my foot,” she cries. “I’ve been through enough as it is…”
She begins whimpering, confirming my suspicion.
Perhaps barging to the front wasn’t such a good idea.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
The Con-Cop steps in closer, drawing out an immobiliser, a simple baton they all carry with them. Its end begins buzzing menacingly, and he points it straight at me. One little tap with that, anywhere on my body, and I’ll go completely rigid, paralysed for a good few minutes.
Depending on what setting it’s on, it could be longer.
“You’ll keep calm, or I’ll take you both in,” shouts the Con-Cop, close enough now to zap us both.
Next to me, Tess tries to act mediator. It’s not a part she usually plays.
“It’s all OK, officer. Really, we’re all OK, right ladies?”
She turns to me, and the other woman, with glaring eyes. If she doesn’t shut the hell up soon, they’ll be hell to pay for us both.
Clearly maddened by grief, however, the woman’s having none of it, her cries and accusations only growing louder.
“Shut up!” I mouth to her. “Shut up!”
She doesn’t.
“One more peep out of you, and you’re getting stung!” shouts the Con-Cop right at her.
She doesn’t seem to listen, tears starting to flow freely down her cheeks. The man doesn’t take any notice whatsoever in her distress, stepping closer now and preparing to strike.
I look to the poor woman, and feel a surge of sympathy that compels me to act. As the guard’s arm coils up, I make my move, reaching out just as he’s about to strike and clutching at his wrist to hold him back.
“Don’t,” I shout at him. “She doesn’t deserve it! She’s just grieving!”
Behind me, I can feel Tess grabbing me, trying to pull me away.
“Brie! What the hell are you doing!” she grunts.
Unfortunately, it’s too late. I’ve acted now, and there’s no taking that back.
Oh crap…what have I done.
I look into the Con-Cop’s eyes, and see a menacing but cold stare. Like the Savants, there’s a look of detachment there, one that’s led to rumours that the therapies they go through are designed to suppress their emotions and make them more compliant.
With a sudden thrust, however, he pulls his immobiliser away.
“You’ve done it now, girl,” he growls.
I can’t move, stuck in among the now chattering crowd as I am. I watch as the man lines me up, and prepares to strike. And just as he does, a call comes from behind him.
“Hold on right there.”
The voice is deep, precise and cool. It flows across from the square, and my eyes immediately rise up to see the lean figure of Deputy Burns come easing towards us, wrapped in his light grey suit and flanked by his towering guard of Brutes.
“Officer, stand down. I know these girls,” comes his voice.
The Con-Cop’s reaction is immediate. In one swift motion, the immobiliser shuts off and he swings it back to his belt, before taking a step back and standing as still as a statue.
Deputy Burns speaks again as he nears, stopping a good way away so as not to get too close to the crowd of Unenhanced.
How horrible it must be for him.
“Officer, let them through.”
The guard acts immediately, moving aside the barrier. Tess and I share a look, and step through. We’re been spared, saved by the bell.
Unfortunately, it’s not a bell I want to hear rung.
7
“Well, well,” says Deputy Burns, once more attempting to bring that odd smile to his face. “Brie Melrose and Tess Bradbury. What a surprise to find you both here.”
“Good afternoon, Deputy,” I say. “Sorry for causing a scene. It was a misunderstanding.”
“Oh, I trust that it was,” he says. “Come on over here, girls. I have something to speak with you about.”
We share a look. Tess’s eyebrows dip into a little frown, and mine do the same.
He’s not going to get in our heads again is he?
We move over towards him, and he hastily begins walking off to one side, away from the rabble of watching eyes. As always, his gigantic Brutes walk with him, holding their pace a little way behind at his order. They look alert, a constant vigilance in their narrow eyes.
“It’s funny that you came here,” continues Deputy Burns. “It saves me having to send a postal drone to Carmichael’s. I suppose you could say it’s nicer to tell you this in person too.”
Again, Tess and I glance at each other, wondering what he’s talking about. We wait for him to continue to get clarification.
“Now, you’re aware that a small number of your population performed admirably yesterday immediately after the attack, yes?” he asks, stopping and rounding on us in a quieter part of the square.
We nod.
“We just saw some footage,” says Tess.
“Footage of you?” he asks.
“Yes, Deputy. They called us heroes.”
“Ah, and I suppose you are. Your kind like to lift people up onto their shoulders during difficult times. They like to feel inspired. The Court understands this, and have decided to honour you.”
“Honour us?” I say.
“Yes. We will be holding a ceremony for those who aided us in the clean up.”
Arg. Clean up. There’s that phrase again.
“You two, along with several others, acted valiantly and bravely. These are traits that interest us, virtues that we believe are important. For an Unenhanced to act as such, with the burden of fear to deal with, is something we respect. And so we will provide you with a rare honour, the opportunity to come to Inner Haven, where the ceremony will be held.”
“Inner Haven!” squawks Tess.
Deputy Burns barely reacts to her sudden excitement. He merely stares at her with his usual bland expression, before nodding.
“Yes. Does that sound good to you both?”
“Erm, yeah!” says Tess, usually so placid herself. A visit to Inner Haven, however, is such a rarity that anyone would likely be enthused by the idea.
“And you, Brie?”
“Yes, Deputy,” I answer, maintaining my cool. “Will it take place in the High Tower?”
My thoughts turn to the mountains again. From anywhere near the summit of the High Tower, that view beyond the borders of the city must be magnificent. Something I’ve yearned to see my entire life.
The Deputy’s words, however, speedily douse my flames.
“No, Brie. The ceremony will take place at the base of the High Tower, not within it.” He inspects me for a second, and I get the sense he’s looking into my mind again, uninvited this time. “You’re disappointed,” he remarks.
“No, no,” I say quickly. “I’m honoured, sir, truly. I’ve just always wanted to see the view from up there, see the world.”
“And why is that?” he asks.
He doesn’t get it. That muc
h is clear.
“Curiosity, I guess,” I tell him. “I’ve heard you can see for miles across the mountains and forests, and even to the eastern coast from right at the top.”
“That much is true, Brie. I wonder who your source is, though, on this information. Not even I have ever been right to the summit of the High Tower. Only members of the Consortium are invited inside.”
“Just rumours,” I say. “Speculation, maybe.”
“Right. Well, it appears that you’re both excited by the idea, given your expressions and your heart-rates.”
Jesus…can he sense our heart rates?
“Yes, sir, very excited,” says Tess.
“Good,” he says, laying his eyes over our bodies, dressed in what he’d probably term ‘rags’. “I assume, given your current attire and standing here in Outer Haven, that you have no suitable clothing for a visit to Inner Haven.”
He doesn’t mince words. Being forward and rude is just another side effect of lacking emotions.
“What’s suitable clothing?” asks Tess.
“Not anything you’ll see around here,” he says. “I’ll have someone sent to you to aid you in this matter. Remember, girls, this is an opportunity. I understand you’re both currently unattached?”
“Unattached?” I ask.
“Yes. Unmarried. Unpaired. Not betrothed to anyone?”
We look at each other and can’t help but laugh. Neither of us have had much luck on that front. Living at Carmichael’s, finding a husband hasn’t exactly been top of our agenda.
“I suspect your laughter means ‘no’,” he says.
We shake our heads.
“Well then, consider this an opportunity to impress,” he says. “I will send a liaison over to you tomorrow morning to take you through things. The ceremony will be the following day. Good afternoon, girls.”
With a rather abrupt finish to the conversation, he turns on his heels and moves back towards the centre of the square, flanked once again by his gargantuan guards.
Tess looks at me, and with a light in her blue eyes says: “We’re going to Inner Haven!”
I’ve never seen her so animated. It’s oddly jarring, particularly given her occasional distaste and distrust of the Enhanced. Then again, even those who hate them would find the lure of Inner Haven a fairly attractive prospect, if only to see what life is like there.
Buoyed by the news, we spend the rest of the afternoon over in the eastern quarter, navigating there by way of the Conveyor Line and walking through the large agricultural and food packing districts that dominate the area.
Here, almost all of the food production for the city is managed. Within large warehouses, vegetables and fruits are grown and harvested, and herds of animals are bred and processed into meat. Chickens, cows, pigs, sheep, and various other types of animals are farmed, their lives short and unpleasant.
With space at a premium, they’re packed in tight, fed and fattened before being slaughtered. I’ve always considered it completely inhumane, and never like getting too close to the slaughterhouses where living, breathing animals are so cruelly treated.
Maybe I’m just soft. No one else seems to care.
Tess is among them.
“They’re just animals, Brie,” she says as I bring up the subject. “Who cares how they feel. They’re bred to be eaten.”
“If you saw it, you might agree,” I say.
I go on to tell her a story of how I had a job here once that involved cleaning out one of the slaughterhouses after a particularly busy day of killing. The amount of blood and gore was enough to put anyone off, but it was the look in the animals’ eyes that was the worst.
Kept in a separate room, I wandered in during a break and saw them all, locked up so tight together in pens they could barely move.
“When you see their eyes, you realise they’re flesh and blood creatures,” I say. “They should be treated better.”
Tess still isn’t convinced.
“People need to eat, Brie. If a few animals have to suffer, so be it. When we clean the world and make it habitable again, then they can run free. Right now, it’s us who need to survive, not them.”
Survival. That’s the key word. And when survival’s at stake, people will do terrible things. And it’s not just the Savants either, it’s all of us. Those factories are run by normal people, people with emotion. And not one of them seems to batter an eyelid.
Unfortunately, in order to reach the highest ground of Outer Haven, we need to pass through the food district. With Tess unlikely to agree with me, I give up the subject, and lead her towards the summit of an old warehouse in the northeast of the quarter.
At the back, there’s a gap in an old fence that surrounds the building. Through we go, and towards a ladder fixed to the rear of the warehouse, taking us right up to the roof.
“So this is where you go,” remarks Tess as we reach the top.
It’s only a few storeys up, but there’s no better place in Outer Haven to look upon the view. From up here, much of the city is visible, from the wall dissecting the two parts of the city, to the wall on its periphery, built to protect us and littered with outposts that keep an eye on the world outside.
Then, beyond those, the natural world comes into view. Only on clear days like this can much be seen, the woods and forests and marshlands to the east and south, and the hills and mountains that climb to the northwest.
“You picked a good day to come up here,” I tell Tess. “It’s never this clear.”
She stays silent, slowly surveying the scene. I smile as I look upon the wonder in her eyes.
“I get it now,” she whispers. “It’s kinda…beautiful, isn’t it.”
“Sure is. There’s a whole world out there. A vast, endless one.”
We sit for a little while up on the roof, talking about the world beyond. I can’t help but feel somewhat vindicated by my decision to come up here. For a while, Tess has shown little interest in seeing the world beyond our borders, knowing she’ll never get to see it.
“No point in knowing what’s outside when you live inside,” is her usual line.
I suspect, after today, her interest in such things might grow.
We stay there until the sun begins to set, drawing a gloomy blanket over the forests and mountains until they disappear entirely. As is often the case, the cooling of the sun and sky brings a mist along with it, descending from the heavens and hanging over the earth.
It’s our cue to leave, so we quickly descend from the roof and work our way back towards the nearest boarding point along the Conveyor Line. From there, the quickest way back is probably around the northern side of the city, passing through the north quarter.
Right now, before the light fades completely, it remains relatively safe. Mostly, it’s a residential part of town for the poor folk among us, with an old industrial district at its most northerly point that’s long been underutilised. When the world turns dark, however, it can be less than hospitable, and not somewhere to linger for too long.
Thankfully, the Conveyor Line passes straight through it at its southern point, and doesn’t venture north where it’s more dangerous. Moving around the circumference of Outer Haven, we’re soon back in the western quarter and navigating our way down the tighter, narrower streets where we live.
By the time we step through the doors of Carmichael’s Academy, we’re greeted with even more fanfare than yesterday. By the sounds of the chattering from the youngsters, the footage from the attack has been seen. And unlike the general public, the kids were quick to recognise our part in it.
“You were awesome!” shouts one girl, Abby, looking up at us with wonder and amazement. “I wanna be just like you when I grow up.”
Tess laughs and pats her on the head.
“Good choice, kiddo,” she says. “Who better than us to emulate!”
Abby doesn’t quite cotton onto her sarcasm, and merely beams as she’s patted like a dog.
Another boy, N
ate, usually so quiet, appears more animated than I’ve ever seen him. He bustles through to the front and grabs my hand.
“I touched the hero’s hand!” he shouts, bringing whoops and calls from his little posse of friends.
Clearly, it’s the younger ones who are most excited by it all. Those who have entered their teens aren’t quite so interested, standing back and trying to remain stoic as they watch on. Among them, the head bully, Brandon, sneers and shakes his head, apparently unimpressed.
As a few other kids begin re-enacting our role in the attack, we start pushing through towards the stairs. They hold us back, though, and put on the little show. Evidently it’s for our benefit.
For the next few minutes, we’re forced to politely endure their re-enactment, pulling all the right faces and trying to appear impressed. Only when Mrs Carmichael’s voice filters from the floors above does the show come to an end.
“Brie. Tess. Come up here please, I need to talk to you.”
Thank God for that. Saved by the bell again.
With a few disappointed boos from the crowd of ground floor dwellers, we make our way upstairs and towards our patron’s quarters. There, we find her behind her desk with her usual glass of whiskey and cigarette on the go. The look of her ashtray suggests she’s been getting through a few more than usual.
“Drink?” she asks as we sit down in front of her.
She never invites us to drink…
I decline. Tess accepts. It doesn’t surprise me.
The offer of a cigarette, meanwhile, is declined by both. Tess takes a sip of her whiskey and coughs. I look at her like the amateur she is and she retorts with a glare. Our little face-off is broken by Mrs Carmichael’s husky voice.
“I had a message today,” she begins. “I’m told you’ve both been invited to Inner Haven.”
We both look right at her and nod.
“We saw Deputy Burns again,” coughs Tess. “He says there’s a ceremony to honour us. How cool is that?”
“Yes, well…firstly, I’m going to ignore the fact that you went out without my consent. I did suggest that you stay here today. I’m not sure returning to Culture Corner was a good idea.”
We dip our heads in apology.
