“I don’t know, Leonard.” Zack sat up and swung his feet off the edge of the bed. The third double bell rang, signalling that it was time to go back to work. Zack worked his feet into the old trainers that he had been wearing every day since his Delta incarceration began. He reached down, his head dizzy with hunger, nausea creeping over him from the emptiness of his stomach. He swallowed hard and tied up the laces. “But if you say it’s there, I’ll take your word for it.” Zack stood up and picked up his water container, and pulled his ration card out of the wall-mounted card reader box. There was about an inch of water left. It would be enough to see him through the shift. The Guardians were rigorous in checking the water supplies of those who worked in the Water Distribution Centre. Trades were allowed. Stealing was punishable by denunciation under the rule of the First Creed: No citizen of New Omega shall steal from another. Nobody really knew what denunciation meant, but when it was threatened by the hyped-up Guardians, it never sounded like something anybody wanted to experience. “Anyway, what’s with the scratching?”
“You’re only saying you believe me, because you want me to believe your crazy stories,” Leonard said as he continued to grate his fingernails over his ribcage. “I think I’ve only gone and got the damn scabies.” Zack was sniggering, but Leonard didn’t see the funny side. Leonard broke the scratching for a second and reached down to pick up the small bag that Zack had taken to carrying with him over the last few days. “You want this?”
“Yeah, thanks,” he said taking the satchel and throwing it over his shoulder.
“I don’t understand why you have started carrying that with you. It'll make the Guardians suspicious. What do you need so much that you'll lug it around all day?” Zack was cautious, eyeing his open door. He walked towards it and pushed it shut.
“Listen,” he said, hoisting the bag onto a propped up knee. “I’m searching. I have been down to the basement every day since. I have been looking at each floor, trying to see where she could have exited from.” He opened the bag and offered it up for Leonard to rummage inside; the iPod, an old magazine, a book called Super Structures, and one ration of water that he had risked denunciation for.
“But why are you carrying these things with you?” Leonard asked, pointing at the bag.
“If I find out how she got in,” Zack said, shaking the items back down into the dirty satchel, “then I can get out that way too.” Leonard was shaking his head, unimpressed by the plan. He looked back at the windows to made one final check for sunlight. There was none.
“I think you’re mad,” he whispered as they closed the door behind them, their conversation concealed by the sounds of New Omega Television. “I've said before that to go out in that is suicide. Dawn is coming, but it's a slow process, Zachary. Omega will tell us when it is safe.”
“But you believe that the clouds are breaking enough for sunlight to come through. The atmosphere might have changed. It must have changed.” They stopped talking as they arrived at the entrance to the lift, several other men and women, a small crowd of familiar faces all waiting for it to arrive. Two Guardians were standing at the side, both with their hands on their Assisters. Zack leant into Leonard’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. “She got in somehow.”
Leonard exited the lift on level twenty one and walked towards the laundry where he worked. Zack saw him punch his card into the check-in slot, and before the lift doors closed Leonard turned around and flashed Zack a wink. He also shook his head left to right with a smile, demonstrating the freedom of movement. The pillow really had helped him. He never complained anymore. It made Zack feel good.
That shift for Zack, just like the rest of his shifts since he had seen Emily's tattoo, passed by in a daze. He was unfocussed and distracted, and desperate for the bell so that he could just get out, eat, and get himself down to the basement to continue his search. There was no way that she had made it up to the lobby and got out that way. It had to be the basement. He had searched level one, and two. Tonight was level three.
As soon as the triple bell sounded he was out of the water treatment plant. He waited for the lift, and as expected, Leonard joined him on level twenty one. They rode in the claustrophobic space packed with people, several of which Zack noticed to be preoccupied by scratching their limbs and fingers. They queued for their long-term antibiotics and continued into the Food Hall.
Beyond the doors they found chaos. There were people jostling for seats, people running, actually running with their food to get a place at the tables. It was true, there were more people in here than usual, but what was the hurry? Zack looked over at the serving hatch to see mineral-enriched porridge being heaped onto a tray, and he turned to Leonard and said, “Well, the rush isn't about the food, that's for sure.”
They got in line and more people filtered in behind them. They reached the serving hatch and as Leonard handed over his tray, Zack asked the server, “What did you put in the food tonight? Everyone has gone crazy.” The server handed the tray back to Leonard and held out her hand for Zack's. She was a small woman, pretty face, or perhaps might have had at some point. She had bright blue eyes that always seemed to shine, and Zack often found that he looked forward to seeing her because she looked so alive, even when she didn't smile. Which was every day.
“You haven't heard, have you?” she said, as she dolloped a lump of porridge into his tray. Zack looked to Leonard who was already staring back at him, both of them wondering what they had missed. Zack took the tray and the steam from the porridge wafted up and caressed his chin. Maybe this was why he liked the server. It was one of the few times he felt the comfort of warmth.
“Heard what?” they both asked in unison.
“They announced the lottery. It's starting any time now.”
They found an empty couple of seats next to each other, the best they could find with a view to at least two televisions. They had only just sat down as the music cut in, a mix of trumpets and electronic piano like a fanfare mixed with 1980s electric pop.
Tonight, began the voice over. The Republic of New Omega is bringing you your lottery, live from Omega Tower. The lottery of the people is coming to your tower. Tonight, somebody will leave their old life behind and join us to begin a new life here in Omega Tower. Tonight, somebody will be sleeping in a new bed, wearing new clothes. Tonight, it might be your world that is set to change. One of you becomes the future. You become your neighbour’s future. Tonight one of you becomes The New Omega Lottery Winner.
This same spiel was playing every third advert, which meant it was getting close. Every time it started it brought the hungry crowd to its knees. The silence would descend, catch every breath and pull all eyes to the screen as the same enthusiastic voice repeated the same words.
One hundred and twenty credits for a blood transfusion. Thirty credits for scabies treatment. The crowd went quiet and the ecstatic voice played again. Next, fifty credits for a dental check. Regulation clothing for all towers coming soon. A great time to peddle lies. Tonight you become your neighbour’s future......
Zack had to zone out. He couldn't take the crescendo. The butterflies were fluttering around his chest, dipping and diving into his stomach so that the porridge couldn't settle. Leonard was scratching himself, concentrating on his armpits. He had definitely caught scabies. Zack’s head began itching and he hoped that it was just psychosomatic. He turned to see that Leonard had already finished his porridge and was eating his cracker bread like popcorn, one arm wrapped around the tray, the other mindlessly shovelling shards of cracker past his badly fitting false teeth, occasionally stopping to wriggle them back into place when chewing was troubled. There was a gnawing in Zack's stomach that might or might not have been hunger related, but there was no hope of him getting another mouthful of porridge down. He pushed his tray aside. Leonard turned to look at him, temporarily distracted by the insanity of wasting food.
“Take it,” Zack said, and without a second thought Leonard pulled the plate towards
him and finished it off in four gigantic mouthfuls. Leonard held up the small water ration out of courtesy to enquire if Zack wanted it or not. Zack waved his hand to surrender it and Leonard knocked it back like a Russian would vodka. Zack could see that Leonard kept checking his wrist, rubbing at the number with his left hand, clearing any debris or dust that might somehow impair his chances. Zack was sure that his number was worthless, nothing more than an out of date ticket. He guessed that sometimes in ignorance, hope could live on as brightly as a rainbow after the early spring rains.
There were people still filing in, some just realising that the lottery was starting. The queue for food had become madness because even the servers were distracted. Zack turned around in time to see somebody land a fist in the cheek of another citizen. It took only a second for two Guardians to step in, and with the help of their Assisters they brought the situation under control for the benefit of all citizens. The Second Creed. All citizens of New Omega have the right to live safely without fear or threat. Threats from the Guardians didn't count.
“That's his chances shot,” said Leonard as both he and Zack turned away just as the Guardians dragged away the assailant. Zack wondered if he could really be held responsible for his crime. Surely the crime was attributable to Omega. For a moment he felt the hatred rise up and push the butterflies of excitement aside as he remembered how much he despised Omega for being everything he craved and everything he didn't have. But being on their team was better than being their opponent, and the hopes soon resurfaced along with the same tingling in his fingers as his heart started to gallop.
The television screens went black as the final advert was cut short. There was no time left. Within minutes there would be another New Omega Lottery Winner. Zack tucked his hands into his lap, pushing up his right sleeve with the stained thumb of his left hand. Eight. Six. Five. Two.
In the final moments before the programme began he imagined the smell of ice cream as it melted on a summer’s day, the sensation of grass crumpled beneath the bare sole of his foot. The warmth of a bed, the embrace of a partner, of Samantha, and of the child that they should have been raising. He would have done it. He wouldn't have failed her. He would have put things right, right? In the vision of his mind he saw his son, somewhere between six and ten years old blowing out the candles on an oversized birthday cake. There were presents at his feet and Samantha was crying happy tears with her forehead nuzzled into his jaw line, her lips kissing him and whispering thank you for a wonderful life.
Just before he heard the music begin, he allowed himself to dream that he deserved another chance.
Chapter Eleven
Hello and good evening to each and every one of you out there. We are only moments away from revealing the lucky winner of tonight's New Omega Lottery. Tonight, one of you will trade your life and become the future of our world. Tonight, you will be sleeping in Omega. Yes, that’s right people, tonight it could be you!
The crowds of Omega citizens sat in organised rows watching Daley Cartwell. He was wearing a green suit, his hair shinier than a black diamond. His smile was wider and whiter than a Himalayan crevasse. There were no Guardians that Zack could see, although it could be hard to spot them because everybody was wearing white. Only the children were wearing colour, the bright dresses and shirts interwoven through the crowds like a ribbon in a braid of hair. An audience waiting to see the latest recruit. Each time Daley Cartwell stopped talking, they began applauding. Rows and rows of clean white uniforms, freshly laundered and pressed, like the smell of grass after rain.
We have been preparing all week and the whole community is waiting to welcome you. The machine is ready. The numbers are ready. Your room is ready. We, your fellow citizens, are ready.
Daley Cartwell cast his eyes down, the microphone pressed against his chin underneath his lip.
We are ready to welcome you, he said as the cameras zoomed in for a close up. Together we will help you become a citizen of Omega Tower, to live once again with freedom, to play your part in rebuilding our world so that all, and each, and every one of you will once again live as free men and women!
Daley Cartwell flung a triumphant hand in the air which initiated rapturous applause from the crowd. The cameras panned across the rows of spectators who were nodding and celebrating the arrival of a stranger as if their own freedoms would somehow be that much sweeter by welcoming a new resident into Omega Tower. Zack could see the important faces sitting high up above the crowds. The camera zoomed in for a close up of President Grayson dressed in his official uniform, issued by The Republic. He was a president for which nobody Zack knew had voted. He nodded his head as if to confirm the value of this moment, the months and years of work that had gone into opening this one place in Omega. It seemed that in Omega they too might be watching the large screens, because when the president's face came into view the cheering intensified in Omega Tower. A few people in Delta also applauded. A couple cheered. Leonard reached over and squeezed Zack’s arm and they both felt the tension. A woman close to the largest television jumped up from the crowd and threw a chunk of unleavened bread at the screen. The Guardians inched in but another two Delta residents wrestled her down into the crowd. People tutted at the inconvenience and the Guardians were kept back. Outbursts would not be tolerated tonight. Not by anybody.
Daley Cartwell was standing at the side of another large screen towards the back of his stage. The stage was lit by concentric rings of lights on the floor as if he was literally walking across the stars. The screen was playing images of Omega citizens walking with a purpose but without a destination. Next they were sitting in libraries reading books as if they had cause to learn. Images of thinking and working and hardship that were nothing more than a pathetic facade of real life. Zack knew this because he knew that every other tower was responsible for providing what they needed. Omega didn't work for anything. Zack could imagine the next generations of Omega citizens born into a life of privilege. It would be even worse then.
Here in Omega we are rebuilding. Every day is a challenge to reconstruct our society as we once knew it. To build a life again for us all to enjoy. Here in Omega we do not seek exclusivity. We are not working for ourselves. We do not sit here in an ivory tower on our laurels whilst you toil in less than perfect conditions.
Daley Cartwell said this with one eyebrow raised and with his tongue sticking into his cheek as if he was in on the joke of what the other towers thought about Omega residents. As if he was saying, we know what you think about us, but it doesn't matter. We understand. We forgive you. The camera cut to the crowd and some of them were laughing. We are working, as one, for you, he continued.
More applause. Cheering on Delta level twenty five.
We are here tonight not to celebrate what we have achieved to date. We are here, one and all, to celebrate our ability to welcome another citizen, to open our doors and say that this place is your new home. Tonight we celebrate our opportunity to grow in strength, to accept another member into our arms and build our team so that we can fight even harder to rebuild the world for us all. So let’s not delay, let us begin. Let us begin the search for a new citizen of Omega Tower. Let us grow in strength. Let us build a better future. Your future.
Quiet. So quiet that Zack could hear breathing all around him. Maybe it was just his own.
Daley Cartwell held up a finger, pointed it in the direction of every set of eyes on Delta level twenty five, and Zack imagined, every set of eyes in New Omega outside the ivory tower. He was looking at each and every one of them.
Let us find you.
The numbers on Zack's wrist felt hot with excitement, so much so that they were pulsating. There were deep breaths coming from left and right as if the whole room had been gripped in a meditative state, broken only as the next set of adverts kicked in. Blood transfusions. Special offer, now only eighty credits. Scabies treatment, fifteen credits, also reduced. They know there will be disappointments. People had to fall back into reality bu
t Omega knew how to cushion the blow.
Can you tell us what this lottery meant to you? Daley Cartwell was talking again, leaning in close to a healthy looking woman, his forehead almost resting against the side of her temple in sympathy for the horror that he was asking her to recall. In your own words.
Everybody focussed again. The commercials were over.
Yes, Daley. Before, life was very hard in Alpha Tower. Some days there was no food. When my number was drawn out, I knew I was being given an opportunity to help my people, to help them grow, and to provide for their future. I have worked to help improve the food supplies for all towers. My Tower is still my responsibility.
Controlled applause in Omega. Silence in Delta, save the occasional late comer still shuffling into the room at the back. A few people were confused, trying to remember if the food had ever been worse. More music. Most of the Omega crowd looked on with smug half smiles. Zack saw one of them wipe away a tear. The camera paid her particular attention.
And you, fellow citizen. Daley Cartwell worked his way along the five previous winners on the stage. A man, big and strong, healthy looking in a way that didn't seem normal to Zack anymore. Can you tell us what being selected means to you?
“I wish they would just get on and announce it,” Leonard said as he stuffed the last chunk of bread into his mouth. “I can’t take this much longer.” He scratched at his armpits, and Zack inched away.
Yes, Daley. Gamma isn't able to produce much for themselves that benefits the residents directly, and we were a small tower with little space for comfort. There was almost no privacy. This made rationing a complicated matter. Because of Omega I have been able to play my part in resolving this issue. My Tower is still my responsibility.
The Dawn: Omnibus edition (box set books 1-5) Page 11
