New Reality 2: Justice

by Michael Robertson

  Lethargy sat in Marie's bones, so she leaned back and let her body sink into the cushioned seat. Life became slightly more challenging with every passing day. The slow change of her body as it prepared for the baby was an exhausting experience. How was she going to cope as she got close to full term?

  The previous night had been long and fitful. When she and Frankie went to bed, she turned her back on him and remained that way. It was made worse by the fact that he went out like a light so she had to listen to him snore. That was his way; the more stressed he got, the better he slept. Was she over-reacting? Was accepting an invitation to Kitty's meal that bad? Maybe she'd have fun when she got there.

  It was easier to rationalise without Frankie there, because she didn't have a face in front of her that she wanted to punch. Kitty was one of the few people who knew of his past; maybe she deserved the benefit of the doubt. After all, it had been several years since she and Frankie had split up, and she still hadn't told anyone his secret. Marie wondered if it would be a problem if Kitty wasn't his ex. Sure, she'd still be a bitch, but bitches are easier to tolerate when they haven't had sex with the man you love.

  The sight of the estate broke through Marie's thoughts and twisted her guts. No matter how many times she passed it, her reaction was always the same—that was where they were headed.

  Was she being selfish keeping the kid? It didn't matter how much she wanted to be married, they had no solid plan to make it happen. There was nothing to build a future on.

  Abortion would solve a lot of problems. If she went down that route, however, she'd have to visit a backstreet butcher. The state wouldn't help. Maybe it was just a rumour, but the thought of a rusty power drill shoved up her… Marie's stomach tightened.

  The estate was no more than an ugly collection of raggedy tower blocks. They all reached for the sky as if the desperation of the residents was forcing them higher—as if they were seeking salvation in the clouds.

  "Ain't it 'orrible?"

  Marie jumped and spun around to see an old man staring at her. His skin was dark, and a mess of wrinkles ran over his face. Bushy, white eyebrows stood in stark contrast to his complexion. He raised them and flashed a toothless grin at her, crow's feet speeding half way around the back of his bald head.

  Conscious of the cameras she couldn't see, Marie looked around the quiet carriage before looking back at the man. "The estate, you mean?"

  "No, the golden fields of wheat swaying in the breeze."

  It took a few seconds before he revealed his sarcasm with a smile, his bright eyes lighting up. "Of course, I mean the estate. It's bloody 'orrible. Poor bastards whoever it is that 'as to live down there."

  The corset restricted Marie's deep inhalation and it did little to settle her heart. Poor bastards indeed. As if feeling her stress, the baby shifted in her womb.

  The man sat down next to Marie and dug his bony elbow into her ribcage.

  When she squealed, a woman peered at her over the tablet she was reading.

  "What's your name, love?" the old man asked.

  Marie kept her eyes on the woman who had just looked up. She replied to the man, "There are spare seats if you want to take one of them."

  The old man's laugh was so loud it was the only thing that could be heard in the carriage. "But if I sit over there, I'll 'ave to shout for you to 'ear me."

  Like he wasn't shouting already. Marie stared at him for a moment. Who was this funny old man? She smiled, despite herself. "Yeah, I suppose you will." She held her hand out. "Marie. My name's Marie."

  A conversation with the old geezer wasn't going to do her any harm. Hell, maybe it would take her mind off things; God knew she needed it.

  The man's grip, although dry and twisted, was surprisingly strong for someone who must have been in his eighties. "Oscar."

  A loose lock of hair fell in front of Marie's eyes, so she tucked it behind her ear and smiled at the man again. "Pleased to meet you, Oscar."

  After a glance out of the window at the estate, Oscar said, "I know most people don't talk to one another nowadays, but I'm from a different time, love—a time where everyone 'ad something but no one 'ad lots. Now it seems that only a few 'ave lots and everyone else 'as nothing. You're one of the lucky ones, you know."

  Even from this distance, Marie could see the multi-coloured stacks of rubbish around the base of the buildings on the estate. It clearly hadn't been removed for years. Rot and decay seeped into the very foundations of the grim place. It was impossible to see from here, but it looked like there was no way the children could avoid the dirt. How many of the poor little sods got ill from the lack of sanitation? She was one of the lucky ones, but for how long?

  "I am too," Oscar said. "When things started to change some years ago, I made a few good investments that saved me. Many people I know ended up down there."

  "Do you ever see the people you used to know?"

  Oscar paused for a moment as he frowned at her. "Are you new?"

  "What?"

  "Are you new to this city, love? We don't mix with them. They live on the estate and we live in the city. That's the way it is and that's the way it's gonna stay."

  As the estate disappeared from view, the shiny office buildings of the city filled the skyline. Two different cultures—two different worlds—sitting side by side like sharks and minnows.

  "And you don't ever miss the people you used to know?"

  "Sure I do, but what's the point in dwelling on it? I ain't going down there to see them; probably all dead now anyway. You're lucky if you make it to fifty down there.

  "The way I see it, Marie, is that we're the lucky ones. We're the ones who are privileged enough to live this life, so we should make the most of it. We can't do anything to stop the government treating those on the estate like shit, so we may as well enjoy what we 'ave. Life's fleeting. It seems like only yesterday when I was your age and 'ad a bright future. Before long, I'll be gone and I'll be able to say I enjoyed my turn. You can't select the ride, love, but you can choose 'ow loud you laugh."

  Another booming guffaw followed his comment. The old boy opened his mouth so wide, Marie could see his tonsils.

  Before Marie could reply, Oscar put a gnarled hand on her shoulder. Arthritis had twisted his digits so his fingers looked like old rope. "We're in a position to take exactly what we want from this life. We're one of the few who can, so you should make sure you follow your 'eart while you 'ave the chance. You can shape your destiny. There ain't many that can say that in this world."

  When the train stopped, Oscar pulled himself to his feet with a groan. "Take care of yourself, girl, and make sure you choose the life you live." His green eyes glowed. "That's the power you 'ave in this world. You drive the bus, not anyone else."

  As Oscar picked a wobbly path off the train, Marie held her stomach. The old man was right; she did have a choice. All she wanted was to be a mother and wife. Between her and Frankie, they could make it work. They had to.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was the first time Marie had walked to work with a smile on her face since she could remember. There was something special about Oscar; the briefest contact with him had warmed her heart. The old boy was right; this was their moment, their time to take advantage of their privileged standing in this world. There would be a way for them to have this baby, and she'd be a great mother. Frankie would be an amazing dad too, and the stress of life would get easier to manage. They'd make it work.

  When she rounded the next corner and looked up, the warmth turned instantly frigid as all her hope vanished. At the end of the long street, massive and resolute, was Rixon's headquarters. The building was an imposing fortress of brick and steel that stared down at her as if she was its victim. It was so large, it blocked out the sun. A buzz of anxiety shimmered through her.

  No matter how many times she walked up to it since taking a job in the control room, her heart galloped, her throat dried, and her stomach did backflips. It had been worse since they'
d terminated Jake.

  Reluctance made her legs heavy and not even the birds sang as she walked up the silent street. She was alone and her slow trudge was the march of a slave in manacles. If only she could turn around, walk in the other direction, and sack work off forever. If only she could embrace motherhood wholeheartedly. But motherhood was the reason she kept going. This baby needed to enter the world with as much money behind it as possible.

  ***

  Whoosh!

  The automatic door to the locker room opened and Marie turned around. After making eye contact with one of her 'sisters', she quickly looked at the floor. What was she doing? She wasn't supposed to look at anyone, but it was the colleague that had let her into the control room the other day—the one that had smiled at her. Would there be a better opportunity to see if she wanted to be friends?

  Marie regarded the camera hanging from the ceiling, her cheeks burning, then turned back to her locker and opened her handbag.

  When her sister moved next to her, Marie's body tingled. They were so close to one another, Marie could smell her flowery perfume. There must be a way she could communicate with her. But how would she get away with it in here?

  In an attempt to stall for time, Marie put her phone into her bag and zipped it up. Would they notice it on the cameras? She never put her phone in her bag; she always left it next to it. She then opened a pocket on the side and rearranged the three different packets of mints in there. She needed just a little more time to think; how could she communicate with this woman?

  After clipping the popper on her bag shut, she quickly glanced at the blonde woman. Her heart lifted when she returned her smile. She does want to talk!

  While staring ahead, Marie cleared her throat. She spoke only slightly louder than the sound of her breath. "Hello."

  With her own pulse throbbing in her ears, it was hard to hear if her colleague replied or not. Marie tried to steady herself, but she still didn't hear anything. Was she too quiet? She was just about to say something else when she felt her colleague's warm hand touch the back of hers. It was fleeting, almost as though an accident. Almost an accident.

  Goosebumps ran up her arm and Marie had to fight the urge to hug her. They'd pushed it too far already.

  The woman next to her then closed her locker and walked off in the direction of the control room. That was enough for today—too much and they'd get rumbled.

  Still smiling, Marie turned around to see the camera looking straight at her. Her face fell. After closing her locker door, she looked back up at the lens and saw darkness shift behind it. Were they focusing on her?

  When she heard a loud voice outside, panic flapped in her chest like trapped birds.

  "You what?!"

  It was Doug. Frowning, Marie looked at the camera again. Had they told him already?

  Cuban heels clicked loudly over the hard floor as they marched towards the locker room.

  Click!

  Click!

  Click!

  "They've done what?!" It sounded like he was talking into a phone. He was pissed, whoever he was talking to.

  Click!

  Click!

  Click!

  How could she be so stupid? How could she fuck everything up just from wanting to make a friend? Why did she say hello to her?

  Click!

  Click!

  Click!

  Jesus, Marie, what have you done?

  Chapter Twelve

  The clicking of Doug's heels halted outside the locker room door.

  With tension gripping her stomach, Marie shook as she looked at the floor and waited for it to slide open. Why did she try to talk to another colleague? Any kind of interaction was strictly forbidden. She knew that, so why was she so stupid? If she lost her job now, it would push Frankie over the edge. What was she playing at?

  Doug's angry voice outside made her jump.

  "They can't come here, Monty. No way!"

  The panic in Marie's chest eased slightly. Who couldn't come here? What the hell was he talking about?

  "I don't care if we're obliged to show them around. I'm not going to do it."

  Maybe she hadn't been rumbled. She looked up at the camera. What would they be thinking of her strange behaviour? It was a bit weird to stand still and stare at the floor.

  Marie pulled her right leg up like a dog that had a thorn in its paw. There was a bench next to the door, so she hobbled over to it and sat down. As she pulled both of her shoes off, she continued listening to Doug, his voice now reedy with panic.

  "Can they just turn up without any warning? Surely, they have to give us some notice?"

  It was so quiet that Marie could hear Monty on the other end of the phone. It was impossible to make any sense of what he was saying though; she was too far away from the speaker.

  The first sock she removed was slightly damp with sweat because of the summer heat. She turned it inside out and pretended to look for the foreign item that was irritating her. All the while, she made sure the camera could see what she was doing.

  "I don't have any time to prepare. What am I supposed to do?"

  After a pause, Doug tutted and said, "What do you mean, make it look convincing? Do you realise how hard that is?"

  Marie put her sock back on and removed the next one. Although, how the irritant could jump from one sock to the next… Hopefully, whoever was watching wasn't thinking about that.

  "Okay," Doug said with a sigh.

  Another pause as Monty replied.

  Doug then offered a petulant, "It's not like I have a choice, is it?"

  Monty spoke.

  "Yep."

  Monty spoke again.

  "Yep." Doug was clearly sulking.

  There was a pause where neither man spoke. Doug's attitude must have been irking Monty. It was hardly surprising; Marie felt like swinging for the spoiled brat and she didn't even know what they were talking about.

  Another loud tut and Doug finally said, "Fine. I'll get one of the girls from the control room to come with me. A couple of them are pretty enough to distract them. Hopefully, that'll stop them working out what's going on. But I'm not taking responsibility for this if it goes to shit. There's only so much I can do."

  The white camera was still trained on Marie when she started on her left shoe. After shaking it, she then up-ended the thing, screwing her nose up at the slight funk coming from it. After looking inside, she slipped it back on her foot and wafted the air with her hand. The smell wasn't terrible, but it was enough to make her self-conscious should anyone else walk in.

  "Yes, Monty, they know about us terminating prisoners. We pretend they don't to the employees, but what the fuck do they know? The government don't care about a few casualties."

  If Marie were any further away, she wouldn't have heard what Doug said next, his voice dropping to a whisper.

  "But they can't find out about this. We're taking money from them. Fraud is much more serious than the death of a few estate rats."

  Fraud! It was hard to hide her reaction with the camera watching on, but Marie did her best as she listened to Doug walk away down the corridor.

  A quick check of her other shoe and she then slipped it back on. She had Doug over a barrel now. Fraud was a serious crime. If he had to take one of the girls with him, wherever it was, she was going to make sure she was that girl. Since wearing the corset, Doug saw her as a pair of tits and nothing else. He was blinded by his lust for her and she was going to use that to her advantage. Frankie may have some other work in the pipeline, but if this was as serious as it sounded… well, twenty-five thousand credits for a marriage certificate would be a price worth paying Marie to keep quiet.

  The very start of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but Marie kept it suppressed. She got to her feet and glanced up at the watchful camera. It continued to stare back. She then turned to the door and pressed her finger against the scanner next to it. The light above it turned green.

  She fucking had him.<
br />
  Chapter Thirteen

  The high-pitched screams sent shooting pains through Marie's ears, driving her shoulders up to her neck. Disorientated by the sound, she flapped around at her console to lower the volume of her headphones.

  The sharp acceleration of her pulse had stolen her breath. Pulling it back, she stared at the muted images. The child in front of her was no more than six years old. She was covered in blood and crying for her mummy.

  Why did she ever take the 'promotion' to the control room? The wage increase seemed pitiful once she saw what she had to endure. A few hundred extra credits a month didn't compensate for the nightmares.

  It was hard to control the shake running through her limbs as she tapped away at the keyboard. All she needed to do was pull up the lunatic's identity, confirm it was him, and move on. But to do that, she had to look at the screen.

  The shot panned out. The little girl was crouched over a decapitated lady. The woman was naked save for a scarf of her own entrails.

  Hot saliva ran down the back of Marie's throat and she gulped several times. Would she ever desensitise to the violence?

  All she needed was one image of the guy to cross-reference and then she could get rid of the projection.

  Before she brought his details up, the shot panned out farther to show the door to the room being kicked in. Seconds later, a man burst through, bare-chested and as covered in claret as the little girl. The head of what must have been the girl's mother was hanging from his grip, his bloody fingers entangled in her dark hair. Beneath his shirt of blood was a shirt of ink. The man was heavily tattooed.

  When the girl turned to look at him, she covered her mouth and the man's face opened in what Marie could only assume was a laugh. She wasn't curious enough to turn the volume back up. When she finally got a clear shot of the man's face—a spiderweb tattooed across it—she identified him.