New Reality 2: Justice

by Michael Robertson

  Click. The light turned green and the door slid open, revealing the long sterile walkway leading to the control room.

  No matter how many times she walked these corridors, the whiteness of the space dazzled her. The sharp bite of the air conditioning ran gooseflesh up her naked arms. The smell of bleach assaulted her sinuses and she screwed her face up. At least it banished the reek of him. With her body held tight by the corset, she continued walking.

  The image of Jake lying on the floor of the bus ran through Marie's mind. It was clearly his lowest point during the time she'd been watching him. How long would it be before she had to do it all over again? Could she hide the next person for longer? Could she have given Jake more of a chance?

  The booming laugh of her boss—Doug Rixon—cannoned down the corridor, disrupting her thoughts. Marie's hand shot to her beating heart and she paused for a moment to try and settle it. That man! If she never saw him again… she shook her head. What did it matter? He was just another part of this shitty existence.

  With her shoulders clamped to her neck, she winced as she stepped around the next corner.

  The smile on Doug's face was as wide as his fat head. He rubbed his hands together and then nudged the man he was with. "Ah, there she is, the woman of the moment."

  The vulgar man stood with one of the company's directors. There were so many, and they showed their faces so infrequently, Marie couldn't remember who he was. All she could do was force a smile and remain mute.

  "I was just telling Monty here about your eventful day yesterday." Doug grinned like a maniac as he threw her a heavy wink. It made Marie's skin crawl.

  Monty nodded. "Well done…"

  "Marie."

  "Thank you. Well done, Marie." He looked at her cleavage and continued in a whisper, "I'm told the first is always the hardest, but it gets much easier after that."

  Like he's ever had to kill anyone that didn't deserve it; what the fuck would he know?

  "Don't worry about being overheard down here, Monty." Doug slapped him on the back and laughed again. "As you know, we don't allow any unauthorised personnel in this area. Any ears that hear our conversation are tied tightly into our secrecy contract and they can be trusted. Hell, even if they can't be trusted, they still won't talk because our lawyers will destroy their lives in an instant."

  That little routine was for Marie, not Monty. A sharp reminder that they needed to shut the fuck up, or else.

  "Of course, Dougie."

  With a gentle shake running through her, Marie's throat tightened as she looked from one of the men to the other until Doug waved his hand at her in a shooing motion. "You can go now."

  Marie dropped her eyes to the floor and pulled her shirt away from her stomach as if her bump was visible. When the men didn't move out of her way, she slipped sideways through the tight gap created by the pair and headed for the control room.

  Every step away from Doug and Monty helped her breathe more easily. By the time she reached the control room door, her heart rate had settled and she was breathing freely again.

  Chapter Three

  It was hard not to blink when the green bar of light ran across her eyes. No matter how many times she entered the control room, she'd still not mastered the retina scanner, and it often took her several attempts to get in. The light above the door remained red. "Fuck it!"

  When she felt a hand on her back, Marie jumped and spun around. It was one of her colleagues. She was just coming off her lunch break too.

  After beaming a warm smile at her, the petite, blonde woman pushed her face into the scanner, pressed the fingerprint pad, and let them both in.

  It would have been so much easier to thank her, but Marie smiled instead. There were three cameras in the hallway watching them; even a smile was risky.

  The air-conditioned room threw a frigid shawl around Marie. It was even colder in here than in the corridor. She shivered as she watched the door slide shut.

  Of the six seats in the room, her sister's and her own were the only ones unoccupied.

  Marie glanced at the man she'd reached out to that morning, and although he didn't look back, her cheeks flushed. Why had she even tried to talk to him? She had to be more careful in the future.

  The chair creaked as she sat down on it, and she stared into space momentarily. After that, the only sound in the room was an occasional sneeze and fingers dancing over keyboards.

  When she looked down at her desk, Marie lingered on her corset-enhanced cleavage. Before the pregnancy, she was a B cup; now she was already at a C. Whenever she put the corset on, it felt like it was lifting her tits to her neck, but Frankie assured her that wasn't the case. Whatever; all that mattered was that it hid her bump and prevented Doug from noticing her weight gain in other places.

  There was a small fridge by Marie's workstation, which she removed a can of soda from. It had been weeks since she'd had any. The baby didn't seem to like it, but the cravings for the sweet and cold liquid were too great to resist. She placed the can on her desk, her mouth watering as she watched the condensation run down its sides.

  With one hand, Marie opened the can, the sharp hiss piercing the silence. When she raised it to her lips and took a sip, the saccharine liquid seeped into her mouth, the sugar hit stretching all the way to her toes.

  After several gulps, she'd drained the can. The bloating in her stomach was almost instant, pushing it against her corset. The drink was a bad idea.

  She stared at the screens in front of her. One hundred and fifty tiny monitors. It was the same for her brothers and sisters. Six pairs of stinging eyes watched nine hundred tiny screens—nine hundred felons.

  Despite the shifting chaos on the wall in front of her, she watched the black screen. Her heart sank. Jake… the poor man had been so lost by the end. What other choice did she have? She'd had to tell Doug.

  Marie covered her mouth when she burped, but the release of air did nothing to ease her gassy stomach. She straightened her back and breathed deeply, the soda churning in her guts.

  Once the nausea had passed, Marie rubbed her face and stared at her monitors. For her, it was a systematic process where she started in the top left and worked her way down to the bottom right. Ten screens on each of the fifteen rows. She checked them over and over, looking for something that might need her attention.

  Once she'd checked the first row, Marie glanced across at the blonde woman on her left. What process did she use? How did she decide if something was a negative projection? Did she ever ignore any? Should Marie have ignored Jake?

  She looked back at her screens. If she stared at her for too long, the cameras would see it.

  The first screen on the second row made her pause. What the hell? She put her headphones on and tapped the larger monitor in front of her. Marie jumped when the projection brought a heavy metal soundtrack with it. The screaming guitar shredded her eardrums. Marie fumbled for the volume control with shaking hands.

  Once she'd lowered it, she checked to either side. No one else had heard it. Then the blonde woman turned slightly. Maybe she had.

  Marie faced her monitor again, but she could feel the woman looking at her as though she was reaching out to Marie. Why else would she be looking over? Maybe she needed to talk about her experiences too.

  The urge to look back at the woman pulled on Marie's neck, but she stayed strong and watched the chaotic images flashing in front of her.

  Blood—lots of blood and a wink of shining metal followed by screams as the blade came down. Slash! Slash! Slash!

  The caffeine from her drink kicked in, her hands shaking to the point where it was hard to type. After several attempts and plenty of use of the backspace button, Marie brought up the profile photo of the prisoner whose projection it was. The blood covering his face made it hard, but after a few seconds of staring at him, Marie was sure it was a match. It wasn't a negative projection; this was his fantasy. He must be a lifer.

  A two-finger swipe across the monitor
banished the image, replacing it with a couple having sex. There was no reason to think this was a negative projection, but Marie needed to let her stomach settle.

  To keep herself busy, she pulled up the profile picture of the ladies' man and compared it to the love maker on the screen. As was often the case, the man taking his partner to orgasmic heaven was a better-looking, taller, and slightly more buff version of the real person. Marie smiled and shook her head before looking to the left. Did Blondie find these losers funny too?

  Her colleague was staring at her screen again.

  Marie watched the two bodies writhe together, bashing into one another, the woman screaming his name, him pounding hard into her. Male fantasies were so unimaginative. One hundred and fifty monitors—all of them men and they all wanted to have sex with the same woman. Bigger than Marie expected, bigger than the media would have every woman believe, but huge boobs and big arses all the same.

  When Marie looked to her left this time, her heart jumped. The blonde woman was staring straight back at her. Marie spun around and pressed two fingers against the screen. Swipe.

  The headphones stopped her from hearing the door, but the change of light in the room and the smell of fried food announced the arrival of Doug. Marie kept her eyes in front of her and swiped the next projection across.

  The headphones weren't enough to mute Doug's voice though.

  "Morning, my minions."

  His vulgar laugh tore through her.

  When would the stupid prick stop calling them ‘minions’? Marie pulled the headphones half off her head and listened to the vile man, but she didn't look at him.

  "Another day, another credit, eh? Well, I'm here if you need me for anything; maybe another termination?" The very mention of it made Marie's blood run cold.

  The Cuban heels on Doug's boots clicked against the linoleum floor as he paced around the small room. At five feet seven, he needed every extra inch he could get.

  There was a rustling sound and the fried smell increased tenfold. The greasy bacon's scent was so rich that Marie could taste the old fat that it was surely fried in. The soda in her stomach fizzed.

  Marie wiped her sweating palms on her trousers before swiping the next image across in front of her. Since finding out she was pregnant, it didn't take much to make her feel ill.

  "I've just been speaking to Monty. He's really happy with what we're doing here. He asked me to say well done to you all."

  When Marie heard the sound of Doug biting into the crusty bread and then breathing heavily through his nose as he chewed, she burped a small amount of sick into her throat. It tasted mostly of soda, but it had a slightly bitter kick that pulled at the muscles in her neck as she swallowed it back down. This baby clearly hadn't changed its mind on sugary drinks.

  The slapping of his fat lips and his breathing got heavier. It was like listening to a pig diving into swill.

  Another heave ran through Marie and she stood up, her guts churning.

  The usual predatory grin sat on Doug's fat face as he stared at her tits and chewed with his mouth open. "You okay, darling?"

  "I need to get something," was all she managed, the vomit screaming to leave her body as she pushed past him.

  Marie forced her eyes wide as she shoved her face into the retina scanner. She focused on her breath. In, out. In, out.

  Another wipe of her clammy hand on her trouser leg and she pressed the fingerprint pad.

  Ding! The light turned green and the door slid open.

  Chapter Four

  Marie bent over at the waist and inhaled the toilet's reek of bleach. With sweat beading on her brow and nausea boiling in her stomach, she took deep breaths, her corset holding her upper body firm.

  A sharp buck from her midriff and the soda she'd just drank exploded from her mouth in a sweet and bitter rush. Another deep heave and she brought up more of the sugary liquid, painting the bowl black.

  She inhaled at the same time as her breakfast filled her throat and it clogged her windpipe. Several attempts at breathing did nothing to clear it. It was like trying to chug glue.

  When another burning rush surged forwards, it freed the blockage and sprayed the white porcelain bowl with chunks of bread and egg. Marie panted, her struggle echoing off the hard surfaces in the communal bathroom.

  Shallow breaths did little to settle her rampaging pulse and a few seconds later, her stomach flipped and she vomited again.

  Marie shook as she clung onto the cold porcelain with both hands and started to sob.

  A loud thud suddenly snapped her from her sorrow as the bathroom door was kicked open. Fuck! She closed her eyes and focused on her breath, pulling air into her stormy stomach.

  There was another thud as a boot connected with the door of the cubicle next to her. It swung open so fast, it clattered against the stall wall that separated her and the other person.

  Snap! The lock slid home.

  Chink! A belt buckle was undone and then hit the floor.

  Marie listened to whoever it was sit down with a deep and satisfied groan. It was Doug. Oh, fuck! Whose stupid idea was it to have unisex toilets anyway?

  The thick nasal breathing of the man was accompanied by a click at the back of his throat between inhale and exhale. It sounded like his fat body was on its last legs. Marie shook as she huddled next to the toilet.

  Another groan was followed by a heavy splash.

  Clapping her hand to her mouth, Marie pinched her nose and silenced another heave that rolled through her body.

  Despite clamping her nostrils closed, the smell that hit her two seconds later was so potent, it stung her eyeballs. It was like something had died inside of him and was coming out a month later.

  The stench hung so thick in the air, Marie's vision blurred. The chemical burn of bleach coming from the toilet was suddenly more appealing, so she leaned in close and breathed it in. It did little to combat the sharp tang that had turned the air thick.

  The next groan lasted longer and was tinged with the strain of him pushing. Another deep sigh was followed by another heavy splash. It was like he was dropping rocks down the bowl.

  Doug started to whistle. It was an old-time song called The Gangster of Love and was accompanied by the spinning of the toilet roll. Thank god!

  Seconds later, he flushed the toilet.

  The chink of his belt buckle was followed by the sliding latch on the cubicle door. Cuban heels clicked against the tile floor.

  Creaking hinges were followed by fading footsteps as she listened to him walk down the corridor.

  The filthy bastard; he didn't even wash his hands.

  Another wave of heat hit, and she vomited into the toilet again.

  Chapter Five

  The whoosh of the opening train doors cut through Marie's daydream and brought her back into the moment. They were at her stop. The relief forced her to let out a heavy sigh. It released some of the day's accumulated tension that sat like a rock in her stomach. It wouldn't be long before she was home.

  Although her current situation seemed hopeless, Marie had to have faith that something would work out. The opportunity to change her lot in life would come up, and when it did, she'd be ready to grab it with both hands. Besides, they were far from rock bottom. Work may be shit, but there was so much to be thankful for. She wasn't on the estate yet, her home life was comfortable, and life in the city was good. As long as they found a way to get married, everything would be okay. Twenty-five thousand credits was a lot of money, but between her and Frankie they'd get it. They had to.

  Marie boarded the train with the shuffling throng. In front of her was an old man with a walking stick. The crowd around him was oblivious to his needs, bumping and shoving him, sending him teetering one way and then the other.

  Tension gripped Marie's shoulders and she ground her jaw. How could they be so ignorant? When a woman in a power suit nearly knocked him over, Marie pointed at her. "Hey, you!"

  The woman turned around.

/>   "Can't you see this man's struggling? Show some bloody consideration, yeah? Jesus!"

  The commuters stopped as one and turned to Marie. When they saw the old man with his stick, they parted for him.

  A wrinkly smile lit up his face. He then leaned across and squeezed Marie's forearm in a weak grip. "Thank you, dear."

  After nodding at him and returning his warm smile, Marie watched two commuters help him onto the platform. Maybe people weren't all bad, just a bit too caught up in their day.

  Marie stepped off the train, leaving the comfort of the air-conditioned carriage. The late July heat pushed in against her, wrapping her tighter than her corset and making her itch as she started to sweat beneath the fitted garment.

  The crowd quickly turned into a beehive of activity again. There were hundreds of voices, the reek of coffee and perfume, people knocking into her… her head spun and palpitations unsettled her heart. All of this was without the people from the estate being on the trains. If equality ever won out in Nirvana, the commute would be insane.

  After a deep breath, Marie looked up at the sky and exhaled. It loosened some of the tension in her chest.

  As Marie neared the exit gate, a shrill scream behind her ran a chill down her spine. What the fuck? A rush of panic spread through the crowd like a naked flame to petrol. When it hit Marie, it sent her pulse into overdrive. What was happening?

  On second thought, it didn't matter what was happening; she could find that out later. All that mattered now was getting the fuck away from the station. Marie turned back to the exit, dropped her head, and marched towards it.

  With the exit closer and the screams behind nipping at her heels, Marie remained focused on the gate. Then a guard stepped across it and blocked her way and Marie's stomach dropped to her knees. Shit!

  The guard raised his palm and shook his head. Regret stared out of his sad eyes. "Hold it there please, madam."

  There was space next to him. She could get through with force. Marie gritted her teeth, but the fight suddenly left her when a woman appeared behind the train guard. Her skin had the clay-red hue of someone from the estate. Her jaw was set tight and her eyes narrowed. There was no shoving past her.