The Dawn: Omnibus edition (box set books 1-5)

by Michelle Muckley

  President Grayson stepped from his podium and assumed his place at Emily’s side, one hand resting on her shoulder with unnatural weight. The cameramen took his time before he moved his attentions to Daley Cartwell. As soon as he did, President Grayson took the opportunity to whisper to Emily.

  “Take this all in, Emily. Learn what this ceremony is about. And know that the only reason you’re not in it is because one day you will be the one conducting it.” Emily couldn’t find the words to say anything. She swallowed hard and tried not to cry.

  Daley Cartwell scanned the crowd as he took up his position. He looked at the blank faces but got nothing back. Only the children stared at him with hopeful eyes. Somebody, probably Margareta, had noticed his discomfort because after only a moment of dithering a Guardian arrived at his side. Daley nodded and brought the microphone up to his mouth, wondering what he was supposed to say. He was paying the price of being the consummate professional, never before needing a script. He wished for the first time in his life that Omega had given him an autocue.

  “Wonderful words from our good President,” he stammered as his face filled the oversized television screens erected above the stage. The words caught in the back of his throat. He forced a smile and nodded again to the Guardian at his side to reassure him that everything was fine, and to reinforce that, offered up a light round of applause. A few dedicated members of the crowd joined in with gusto, but most of them were silent. The children continued to hold hands. Some were still crying. How many people had cried before this ceremony? How many people disagreed with what would occur? They had all merrily voted for Proposition Protect, judging their own lives to be more valuable than those outside, but to see that same judgement of those you call your own was something else entirely. “Let’s meet the first of our candidates,” Daley continued with unconvincing false cheer.

  Daley moved to the ten o’clock position and spoke in soft, yet cheerful tones to the first female candidate. He mumbled out, “So tell me, which creed did you renounce to end up on my stage today?”

  He paid no attention as she told of her crime; renouncing the fourth creed. It was unusual. Sarah knew that the fourth creed was broken all the time in the other towers, but in Omega there was no need. How in Omega Tower could she have ever believed she would die of thirst or hunger?

  “Hmm, I see,” said Daley, without really seeing or hearing anything at all. “Tell us more.”

  “I was sick and couldn’t leave my room. I asked my husband to bring me food but the dining room had closed. So he broke the lock on the dining room door and brought me the leftover scraps.”

  “Hmm,” muttered Daley.

  “Daley, focus. Focus in the name of our good President,” screamed Margareta in his ear. He fiddled the earpiece loose, dropping it over his shoulder. It didn’t help though. He could still hear her whining on in the distance. “Otherwise you’ll be next. Get it together.”

  “Hmm,” said Daley, more convincingly this time, as if he actually cared and was thinking about something other than Simon only metres away from him. “So you pushed him to do it.” The woman dipped her head and Daley’s eyes trailed a tear as it fell from her eye onto one of the twinkling stars set in the stage. “I think it’s time to take a vote, good citizens. Your Control Panels have been unified. Cast your votes now.”

  A rumble of activity spread through the crowd as each person of age pulled their Control Panels from a loop on their belt. The children’s crying had stopped as their fear was masked by the excitement of a vote. Even those against the system of denunciation couldn’t help but appreciate the democracy of the system. The apathy of the old world when people didn’t exercise their right to vote seemed quaint, ridiculous somehow in comparison to the Republic of New Omega. Here, every vote counted. Each Control Panel lit up with numbers one to ten. Heads were scratched, help from the nearest neighbours sought. Which other creeds could have been broken by such an act?

  The television screens faded to black, before ten coloured bars growing at different rates and to different heights took over the screen. A brief jingle of encouraging music played out while the citizens of Omega Tower made their choices.

  “That’s all the votes in, our good President,” Daley announced as the bars gradually settled and the music faded. Under each bar there was a number, corresponding to each creed, but from the height of the bars the result was obvious. The most votes had been cast for the first creed. “Fifty three percent of you voted that she also renounced the first creed. My personal choice would have been the second, but good on you all for getting in the spirit.”

  Daley moved on to the next candidate, the man who turned out to be the husband of candidate number one, and who Sarah got the impression were both here to make up the numbers like she was. Then Daley made his way to her, and she explained how she had broken the seventh creed. The citizens voted, and decreed that she had also broken the second. Daley agreed that the second creed had most definitely been broken, his tone suggesting that perhaps she was lucky to be here on only one charge. But Sarah knew that his attentions were already on his next task. His breathing was harder, his smile more forced. His fingers worked against each other, his voice shaky as he spoke. Two Guardians moved in close and hurried him along.

  “And you, good citizen. Which creed did you break?” Daley looked up at Simon, his eyes welling with tears, his cheeks flushed through shame and anger. Simon’s head had barely stopped shaking the whole time he had been on the stage. He had either zoned out, or the week in solitary confinement had rendered him delirious. His face filled the screens, reddened and grey as it was, his pink teary eyes out of focus and frantic. Most people knew Simon from the last lottery. Some even knew of his forbidden relationship with Daley. “Please, good citizen. Don’t make it harder for yourself,” Daley begged. “Give me an answer.”

  “Make him talk,” Margareta said, her voice still coming through the earpiece as clear as if it was still in his ear. “You should be good at getting him to do the things you want.”

  Daley dropped his microphone to his side and reached up to Simon’s arm. His touch elicited a weak response. “Please, Simon. I can’t stand to see you like this.”

  Only those closest to that section of the stage heard what Daley said, but the rumour of what was spoken spread through the crowd. President Grayson was soon back at his podium trying to get the situation back under control.

  “Thank you, Daley. We will move on.” Daley was removed by the Guardians and Simon was left shaking on the podium. “The fourth candidate renounced the seventh creed; and now you have heard the charges raised against these individuals who renounced the lives provided to them by the Republic of New Omega. You, the people of our society, must now decide. Emily, please.”

  Emily was escorted by a Guardian to the first denunciation candidate. The crowd was still unsettled by what had just happened. The Guardian was carrying four white hoods in his arms. Emily approached the first candidate, climbed the steps at the rear of the podium and draped one hood over her head. Emily whispered, “I’m sorry,” as she loosely tied the back of the hood to secure it in place. She moved to the next man and did the same. When she climbed the steps at the back of Simon’s podium she draped the hood across his head and squeezed his arm. “Be brave,” she whispered in his ear. She let her hand linger on Daley’s arm as she moved past him towards the final podium.

  She climbed the steps and took the final hood from the Guardian. She pulled the hood tight across Sarah’s head, and as she drew the ties together, pulling more than necessary on the straps she said, “Now you’ll see just how sweet revenge tastes.”

  “Good citizens of the Republic,” began President Grayson. “I must call upon your good nature to once again make a choice for the greater benefit of our society. We have stood here before as one and we did what was necessary. Today we must once again do the same. Citizens of New Omega, it is time.”

  The numbers one to four appeared on the Control Pa
nels of every citizen, corresponding to the numbered podiums upon which the candidates stood. The outer ring of the stage began to revolve so that all citizens could get a good look at each candidate. The earliest voters had made up their minds before President Grayson made his final speech. These citizens were waiting to cast their vote, sure that their actions were credible and just. Others dallied, looking to their neighbour and then to the denunciation candidates coming in and out of view as the stage revolved. Some looked at their children, and the residents nearest the back covered their Control Panels for the fear that a Guardian could report their vote. After several minutes only forty percent of the votes had been cast, despite many a resounding word from the President. Usually they would have relied on Daley to spur the crowd, but everybody knew that he would play no further role today.

  In fact, Daley had retired to a seat near the centre of the stage. People would no doubt be wondering if he was ill. Some, those who were still attuned to human feeling, would realise that it was what they were doing that had caused him so much grief. Daley could still hear the mumblings of Margareta in the loose earpiece hanging by his shoulder, but his sight was fixed on Simon as he passed by on his podium. Emily joined her father, brushing the fringe of the wig from her eyes. She placed her hand on his wrist and smiled at him. Their eyes met and for a moment he lost all concentration on the Denunciation Ceremony, and it took Margareta’s voice to bring him back to reality. He patted Emily’s hand and addressed the crowd.

  “Good citizens, those of you who have not yet cast your vote must do so now.”

  He raised his hand and the outer ring of the stage came to a gentle halt. As the final votes trickled in the bars on the screen began to take shape. Most votes wins. President Grayson watched the screen, and when he saw that the final votes had been cast screen he instructed the Guardian standing at his side to carry out his duty.

  The Guardian walked to the candidate who had received the most votes. On the chest of the white denunciation suit he painted a red D. DENOUNCED. Three other Guardians performed a similar task, all painting Ds on the chests of the other candidates. But for the others the D was painted in orange, the colour of rebirth, of innocence, and of the dawn. DISCHARGED. Two further Guardians arrived with steps which they placed alongside the podium of the denounced. That was when the screaming began. That’s when the denounced understood the choice that had been made.

  “You have been chosen,” began President Grayson as he tried to control his surprise. This wasn’t supposed to end like this. He swallowed hard and focussed on the autocue. “By your people you were selected to set an example to this generation and to future generations. Renunciation is paramount and you were given your chance. The people have decided that you must pay for the sins you have committed, and thereby relieve us of your burden on the Republic.” The children were crying again, the fun of the vote long forgotten. The noose was roughhoused into place, helped by a couple of blows of the Assisters. Nobody would contest it. Even if one struck the head it was, by this point, the merciful thing to do.

  “I denounce your life and give your memory to our future whereby you will be held up as an example of what must truly be given in order for us to achieve peace.” President Grayson stepped back from the podium and headed towards the control room. The Conservators remained in their seats watching the spectacle.

  Two Guardians heaved on the end of the rope, pulling the body higher. Another Guardian turned a wheel, swinging Sarah’s body out on the noose until she was positioned above the entrance doors. The other candidates knew by now that they were free. Daley was up on his feet, but fell to his knees when he arrived at Simon’s podium. He clung to Simon who collapsed to the floor. Simon’s wife arrived not long afterwards from somewhere within the crowd, throwing her arms around Daley and Simon as their bodies shook with relief.

  “You are safe. You are safe. You have been saved,” Daley cried. Members of the audience cried too, but they tried to hide it.

  Sarah’s body swung out, hitting the windows. She struggled for a moment further, legs kicking and arms flailing, picking at the noose tight around her neck. But the struggle was short, and a collective sigh of relief breezed through the crowd when she became still, assuming the position in which it would remain for one week as a lesson to those who dare defy the Republic. More of the children were crying, their wailing comforted by eager parents, but most stood silently and watched in horror. Just like the adults. It didn’t matter how many denunciations occurred, it was impossible to be prepared. Only those who didn’t vote for Sarah could be absolved. But even their relief would be short-lived when they had to face the person they chose to renounce in the days to come.

  Emily followed her father into the control room until they were hidden from the crowd.

  “I’m so sorry, Sir,” Margareta was saying. “We were so sure. We were absolutely certain. There was no way he would go free.”

  President Grayson was about to answer when he saw Emily approach. She took a quick glance to her nearest Guardian, the one on her side who had helped her in and out of Delta on more than one occasion, just to make sure he was there.

  “You did this,” President Grayson shouted at Emily as she arrived behind him. “You are responsible. You and your network of idiots.” He didn’t know how, he couldn’t give an explanation. But he knew his daughter, and she hated the Denunciation Ceremony. He knew it was weird that he had seen none of her usual tears or protestations.

  “Father that is impossible. How could I possibly have influenced the whole crowd?” He thought about it. It was true. He was so sure she was responsible, but how? “I’ll return to my quarters now, Father. Unless you need me to do anything else.”

  He shook his head. The control panel workers had stopped watching the crowds on the monitors. Their eyes were fixed on their president. Margareta was clutching her chest, almost in tears. Emily walked past them, trailed by her Guardian. President Grayson eyed each of the workers, finally settling upon Margareta. He was losing control, and for the first time in ten years every person around him knew it.

  Chapter Fifty Seven

  Emily was quick to the lift. Her feet shuffled along, each step anxious and fearful that somebody other than her Guardian was following her. Twice she turned around expecting to see her father’s surly face. Each time she saw nothing but Millward. He had been with her from day one. Not day one in Omega Tower. Rather the first day that she had woken up. Before that he had been just another Guardian in the background. But when she learnt the truth about their life in the glass tower that was Omega, something woke up inside her. It was a desire for equality, and all of the other citizens that shared the same dream could feel it in one another. That day Millward looked at her differently as he rested a hand on top of hers. His hand was large, black with thick knuckles that could break a nose. But she didn’t feel unsafe. She let his hand smother hers until the point that it grew hot like fire. He said there are more of us, you know before leaving her alone in her bedroom. It was a risk on his part, but for those who dreamed of something better, it was a risk worth taking.

  She pressed the button for the lift and felt Millward’s oversized body behind her. The corridor was empty because every Omega citizen was watching Sarah’s body swing from a noose in the main lobby. Emily stepped inside and Millward followed. They rose to the thirty-third floor without a word shared between them. On several occasions she looked at Millward expecting to see a mixture of fear or excitement but instead he appeared resolute and focussed. A beep sounded and the lift doors opened. They passed from one lift straight into another and rode it until they arrived at the Presidential Suite.

  “We must be quick, Emily.” She nodded to agree as they moved past the four Guardians at the door and straight to her bedroom. The plan had been agreed upon so didn’t need any discussion. Emily pulled the tartan rucksack out from underneath her bed. Inside there were two sets of overalls and three changes of underwear. From inside the bottom drawer
of the dressing table she pulled out two water canisters and pushed them into the bag. Millward stood at the half-open door to keep watch. She reached over to her dressing table and picked up the old Photo booth pictures of her and Amanda, the girl she never tried to save. She leaned on the dressing table, accidentally knocking the Control Panel. The late summer sunrise with its pink streaks and orange haze faded to grey as the image of the old nuclear winter filled the skyline.

  “That’s better,” she said to Millward as she picked up the tartan bag. They were just about to run through the door when Millward stood firm and held her back. “What? I don’t.....”

  “Sshh,” he hissed, cutting her off. He pushed the door until it was almost closed. Somewhere in the background he could hear footsteps and then a door slammed. Now Emily heard it too. There was no doubting her father’s characteristic footsteps, followed by the click-clack of Margareta’s heels.

  “Did you get the person who rigged the vote out?” Emily whispered as she pulled off her wig.

  “No,” he said without taking his eyes from the door. When he sensed her confusion he looked back. “But she is safe. All of the work is completed under a false login. They cannot trace the vote back to her.”

  “But Millward, they will know it was somebody on that shift. They’ll take everybody on that shift and they will make sure they do everything they need to find out who did it.”

  Millward hung his head. He tried to ignore what she said. But, unable to avoid her unrelenting stare, he said, “It was the best we could do. She knew the risks.”