Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
About The Author
Other Authors Under The Shield Of Phalanx Press
Available Now
New Reality 2:
Justice
By
Michael Robertson
Website and Newsletter:
http://michaelrobertson.co.uk
Email: [email protected]
Edited by:
RJ Blain
Terri King - http://terri-king.wix.com/editing
And
Sara Jones - www.torchbeareredits.com
Cover Design by James at GoOnWrite.com
New Reality 2: Justice
Michael Robertson
© 2015 Michael Robertson
New Reality 2: Justice is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, situations, and all dialogue are entirely a product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously and are not in any way representative of real people, places or things.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Chapter One
Marie walked over to the kitchen window and pressed the frosting button. As the glass turned cloudy in front of her, she undid her corset. It was front lacing, so no problem there, but when she pulled it off, it was sticky against her clammy skin. If she'd wanted to preserve the garment, she would have worn something beneath it. At some point, she'd be too pregnant to wear it any longer. Once she'd passed that point, she never wanted to see the damn thing again.
She stared down at her potbelly and wondered how much longer she could she do this for. At present, the corset was doing a good job at hiding her ever-increasing bump from her boss. Whenever they spoke, his eyes dropped to her tits. She could probably be on fire from the waist down and he wouldn't notice. At seventeen weeks pregnant, it was relatively easy to cover up, but she had no idea what she would do when her stomach got too big.
The cold hand on her bare back made her jump.
"Evening, darling."
Melting into his touch, she moved backwards, craving his embrace and the feel of his skin against hers. But hugs weren't Frankie's thing. Sex had been off the menu for quite some time too. In the last six months, they'd done it once—seventeen weeks ago. When he pulled his hand away, a cold space was left where it had been.
After he'd walked around in front of her, his eyes lingered on her breasts before moving down to her stomach. "How's the baby?"
Every time he asked, it made their plight more real and a lump rose in her throat. She took a deep breath, swallowed it back down and nodded. Despite fear eating away at her, she wasn't going to have an abortion, especially not in some backstreet butcher's. They'd find a way to make it work.
Frankie looked up, regarding her with his warm stare as he rubbed her upper arm. "And how are you?"
A slight burn stung her eyes and the world in front of her blurred. "Not good. We had to terminate someone today."
Frankie's eyebrows rose in the middle and he scratched his unshaven chin. "Jake? Was that the guy's name?"
Marie nodded again.
"How often do they terminate people?"
"Whenever they need to; if someone gets lost in a negative projection for too long, we have to end it for them. Once they go down that rabbit hole, there's no chance of them coming back. But you know what? Doug was laughing as he did it. He said it had been a while since it had happened and that I'd popped my cherry." She cleared her throat as she stared into space. "He said it'd get easier, and that the first is always the hardest."
"Maybe he's right?"
"You're agreeing with him?"
"The guy's a prick, we both know that, but he's been working in that company for years. Maybe he's right, I mean, terminating—"
"Killing, Frankie; it's killing." Heat flushed Marie's face as she looked at her lover. "Let's not dress it up so it makes it easier to end someone's life when New Reality doesn't work out for them. We have more humanity than that."
The only reply Frankie offered her was a frown.
Marie dropped her eyes to the floor and rubbed her face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose it. It's just… I don't know how long I can stay there. I can't pretend I'm okay with killing people." She looked down at her belly. "I don't know how long I can hide my pregnancy for. What if the stress I'm going through now permanently damages her?"
"Her?"
"I don't know. I'm just not comfortable saying it. It sounds so cold. I have a person in my womb; a person I'm trying to grow. I want this baby to be healthy."
He grabbed both of her hands and his eyes stared deeply into hers. "So do I, darling, more than anything."
Was he telling her the truth? Terminating this pregnancy wasn't an option for her, but she'd never given Frankie a choice. "But you keep telling me I have to go to work."
A flicker of hurt shimmered across his face. "What else can we do? We can't afford to get married and we need all the money we can get. There's no point in you trying to get another job while you're pregnant. What's a couple more months? We need to stretch this out as long as we can."
While grinding her jaw, Marie balled her hands into fists and stared at him. "That's easy for you to say." She let the tension go with a sigh. Arguing wasn't going to help the situation. "In a few months' time, I'll have to strap myself up as tight as a drum to make sure I don't show. That could…" The lump that rose in her throat choked her words off.
When Frankie pulled out a kitchen chair, the legs of i
t screeched over the laminate flooring. He nodded at it. "Sit down."
Marie dropped into the seat and shivered, despite the July heat.
Frankie darted into the living room and returned with a blanket for her. He then pulled out another chair and sat opposite her. "We've been through this so many times, Marie. With everyone on zero hours contracts, employers can cut our work any time they like."
Hot tears ran down her face. "Maybe if I explained the situation to Doug, he'd let me stay on but give me a job somewhere else in the building."
"They won't give you a job anywhere else, Marie. Not now that you've seen someone terminated. When you took this job a few months back, they told you it was the last one you'd have for Rixon. They told you about the Secrecy Act and how you'd end up in court if you said anything. Hell, they'd probably hit us with thousands of credits' worth of legal bills just for having this conversation. The only way out of the control room is out of the front door with a letter from their solicitors, reminding you of your legally binding contract to keep your fucking mouth shut. Besides, Doug doesn't give a fuck about you. He's only showing you an interest because he wants to fuck you."
Everything Frankie was telling her was true, but Marie hated him for saying it. The reality of their situation hung over her like a dark cloud. She got it; she didn't need to hear it told so plainly. "I could leave? I could keep the control room a secret?"
Frankie turned away from her and stared at the frosted window in the kitchen. Crow's feet spread away from the corners of his eyes as if his thoughts were causing him pain. "We have a good life here." His words were slow as if he were deliberately trying to hold his anger back. "I can't go back to living on the estate. You don't know what it's like there. If you leave work now, there's no way we'll have enough money to stay in this apartment. It'll be hard enough to keep this property if we have a child out of wedlock, let alone not having the money to afford the rent. We'll be living on the estate in a flash."
The dam holding her heart back collapsed and she started sobbing. With her shoulders bouncing, she stared past her modest bump at her lap as tears landed on her dark trousers. "I hate this traditional family law. What's the point of it anyway?"
"Statistics! They looked at statistics and saw that kids from broken homes commit more crime. Rather than looking at the bigger social issues, they decided to do everything they could to discourage having bastard children."
"But all they've done now is ensure that every bast—" She paused and looked up. That wasn't a word she was prepared to use. "—that every child born out of wedlock will become a criminal by placing them in a breeding ground for criminals."
Frankie raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "And that was the policy of a moderate right wing government. Imagine what it'll be like in ten years' time with the fascists we have now. They'll probably start sterilising the poor."
"They won't do that," Marie said.
"Why not?"
"The poor take all the shitty jobs for little pay. They need workers to keep the city running."
"They could encourage immigration."
"And I think they will, Frankie, but only when they have to. To make Nirvana an appealing city to work in, they'll have to offer a reasonable wage to get people over here. Why would they do that before it was necessary? They currently have their pick of all the desperate souls on the estate."
When Frankie didn't reply, Marie shook her head and returned her gaze to her lap. "There must be a way for us to avoid the estate."
Frankie gritted his teeth and spoke slowly. "Marriage is the only other way." He looked up at the ceiling and drew a long sigh. "I can't keep having this conversation, Marie."
"Don't get cross with me."
He softened his tone and grabbed her hands. "I'm not cross with you, darling; I'm frustrated with the life we're forced to live by the ruling elite. They haven't got a fucking clue how things are. If we were married, we'd get all the help we needed. We could continue to live this cushy life. It wouldn't matter if your contract were terminated because the state would pay you a wage. But where will we get the twenty-five thousand credits we need to get married? We have three thousand. That's our rent for three months. For people like us, getting pregnant results in either a termination or a one-way ticket to the estate, and if we end up there, our child will have either killed someone or have been gang raped by the time they're fourteen."
"You managed to avoid all of that."
"I'm the exception. You can't base a plan on an outlier. Besides, my childhood was hardly good. I can't go back to that. I can't go back to drowning in poverty like I did before. I can't put our unborn child through it."
All of the strength had left Marie's body. If she tried now, she doubted she'd be able to stand. "What if our landlord kicks us out when he finds out anyway?"
"At least we'll have some more money. The longer you work, the more likely it is that we can afford our medical bills. I don't want to try and deliver the baby on the sofa."
Although she took deep breaths, it did nothing for Marie's tightening chest and galloping heart. "So I have no choice?"
"We've had this conversation so many times in the last eight weeks. I can't force you to go to work, Marie. It kills me to see you struggling like this. But what can I do? The last time I worked in the corporate world, my anxiety got so bad I was scared to leave the house. I'm sorry, Marie, but I just can't do it. I need to stay employable on some level, and going back into corporate Nirvana will ruin me."
It wasn't fair; he got to do a job he loved while she went to hell every day. It was hard to force the words out. "I'm not asking you to do that. I just want to find another way."
The laugh wasn't condescending; it was devoid of hope. "There aren't any other ways with this government. If we're not married, we're scum. A traditional family and board meetings are the two things they value most. They set the rules, and if you don't fit into them, you end up on the estate." A distant stare washed over his face. "Those places are like quicksand. As soon as we step into them, we'll be up to our necks before we know it."
If only she had more answers. There must be some solution they haven't come across yet.
Frankie put his arms around her and they touched foreheads. They were so close, she could smell garlic on his breath—she could smell everything with her pregnant nose.
"I love you and our unborn child," Frankie said. "I don't know what the answer is at the moment, but if you leave it with me, I'll find a way. I'll be more positive about it. There's always a way, right?"
Marie let her weight rest against him. There was always a way. Whatever happened, they'd damn well find it.
Chapter Two
With shaking hands, Marie opened her locker. It was a large one and had far more storage space than she needed. Laying her bag down, she started shifting it around the empty space, purposely slow to avoid going to the control room.
Marie focused on her slow breaths. Anxiety was a familiar feeling before work, but having killed Jake yesterday, the panic that usually only sat in her abdomen had lifted up into her throat and felt like it was choking the life out of her. How long would it be before she had to terminate someone again? How did the others cope with it?
When Marie closed her locker door, she jumped when she saw one of her colleagues standing next to her. A tall man at over six feet, he had a shaved head and dark features. The dry smell of his aftershave complimented his broad shoulders and thick arms. It was like he sweated testosterone. Conforming to Rixon's strict policy, he stared straight ahead as if Marie wasn't there.
Other than Doug, she didn't know the names of any of her co-workers in the control room. All she was allowed to call this man was 'brother'—and that was only in an emergency.
The silence was one of the hardest things for Marie. Every day, she would sit in the control room with five other people and she wasn't allowed to say a word. By the time she got home to Frankie, she had so much backed up that she talked until they went to b
ed each night.
Cameras were mounted in each corner of the small locker room. After a quick glance at them, Marie looked at the floor and her colleague's shiny shoes. Did he enjoy his job? He was certainly turned out like he took it seriously. Had he had to terminate anyone yet? Of course, he had; that was life in the control room. How did he deal with it?
Then she saw him tap the foot closest to her—his left one—three times before pausing and then tapping it again. A flutter ran through her chest. It was a sign. Marie copied the pattern with her right foot in response.
After a few seconds, he did it again. Surely, he wanted to talk to her. It was his way of saying she wasn't alone. That he knew how she felt.
She entered the pass code that would secure her belongings, drew a deep breath, and looked across at his locker. As she stood there, she could almost feel the penetrative glare of the cameras’ lenses. It was like they knew she was about to commit a sin against the company, but she had to talk to someone.
One, two, three, she glanced across at him.
When he stared back, a frown crushing his brow, Marie's face dropped and she looked away. Shit! How could she be so stupid? He wasn't sending her a message; he was just tapping his foot.
Tension snapped through Marie's body when he slammed his locker door. This guy really wasn't interested in a conversation.
After he'd left the room, Marie looked at the cameras. The cold lenses stared back at her.
She faced her locker again as her vision blurred. The coldness of this place was too much. She needed to talk to someone about Jake. There must be someone in the control room prepared to break Rixon's rules.
Marie stared at her locker for a few minutes; surely, her colleague would be at his desk and set up already.
After wiping her eyes, she walked over to the locker room door. She pressed her face into the retina scanner; the smell of the man’s aftershave was still hanging around it. What had previously smelled like hope now bore the heavy kick of rejection.
New Reality 2: Justice Page 1
