by Stuart Keane
Kieran understood why. The looks they were receiving carried even more threat, they were freaking him out. He dared taking a look behind him. The clones had swarmed in from behind and now had surrounded them, so that they had nowhere to go. He estimated there must have been about seventy of them in total.
Then Kieran realised something: they looked as if they were waiting for something.
What could it be?
Heather looked across at him with her eyebrows arched, as if she had reached the same conclusion.
A door opened. The sound was nearly lost, drowned out by the incongruent tiny sounds made by the throng of clones. Kieran heard the door and tapped Heather on the shoulder to alert her. The noise’s origin remained a mystery.
Then there was movement. The clones at the back started to move. At first, Kieran wasn’t sure why. Then Heather realised that they were making way for someone, parting to allow access. For tedious, long moments they waited for the clones to step aside, still feeling the scrutiny of all the eyes in the room.
How eerie it felt, thought Kieran.
Finally, the front line of clones parted as a man stepped through the crowd. He was about six foot, similar in height to his silent companions, although one or two of the clones were slightly taller. His hair was kept short and styled immaculately, as if it was regularly groomed. Streaks of grey were noticeable in the hair, giving the man a distinguished look. His face was deeply tanned, indicating regular use of a tanning bed or regular vacations. He was clean shaven, with perfectly trimmed sideburns, while his teeth were a stunning white, evident as he smiled on his arrival. He wore a crisp black suit with a black shirt and a black tie. Kieran noticed that his shoes were brand new and gleaming, and altogether, the man radiated wealth and a pampered, but healthy lifestyle. As he walked, he rubbed his neck, displaying a golden Rolex watch on his tanned, muscular wrist. His stride exuded confidence.
He stopped walking. As the stranger looked down, the clones closed in around him. They were still once more. The enigmatic stranger lifted his chin and a smile touched his lips as the white teeth almost blinded Kieran.
“Hello,” the man addressed them.
Kieran and Heather looked at one another in confusion. They said nothing.
“Let me guess. Now, you must be Kieran.” The stranger pointed at him. “And you must be Heather?” His well-manicured finger aimed at Heather.
The looks on their faces displayed their total perplexity. For a moment, they said nothing.
Kieran spoke first. “Who are you?”
Mr Sparkling Teeth smiled. He loosened his Rolex on his wrist and then let it grip tightly again. “My name is Delta. Unknown to you, I have been watching your little show here. I have to say, I am impressed.”
Heather swallowed. “Show? What show?”
Delta smiled. “This – all of this – is a show.” He pointed to the ceiling and sketched out a half circle to indicate the bigger picture. The confusion was clear on their faces.
“Get to the point, fella,” Kieran pressed him. “What the hell do you mean, a show?”
Delta sighed. “I thought you were smart, Kieran, and you’ve showed remarkable guts during this run. I’ve seen a few games played like this, but yours was almost perfect.”
The younger man stepped forward, annoyed by the man’s obtuse talk. As he did, seven clones stepped up behind Delta. Kieran stopped, one foot in mid-air before retracing his steps. The clones returned too.
It was a stalemate.
“Ah, Kieran, I said almost perfect. Personally, I hate violence. Such a coward’s way out. It’s a way of life though, without violence we have no food chain, no chaos theory. Without violence, no one evolves. Without violence, everyone sees eye to eye. Society is boring without it. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Shall we start from the beginning?”
Kieran and Heather exchanged a look. They nodded, silent
“Good, let’s keep this civil.” Delta turned to the clones. “Gentlemen? If you please?”
The clones moved away from Kieran and Heather, revealing the benches on the station platform.
“Please, sit.” Delta held a hand out to indicate the benches. After a little hesitation, Heather sat down. Kieran remained standing. Delta fixed him with a stare. “Fine, don’t sit then. No skin off my nose.”
Kieran felt a knot form in his jaw muscles. He noticed the clones stepping off the platform, onto the rails below. Heather saw it too and gripped him by the forearm.
“Let the man speak,” the woman urged Kieran. “It’s obvious we’re here for that reason.”
Kieran calmed down a bit. He shrugged off Heather’s hand.
“Now, where were we?” Delta resumed. “Oh yes. Right, Heather, Kieran. Just imagine a world where the only stakes are the highest possible. When I say high, I mean, if you win, you’re a champion. If you lose, your life isn’t worth living. Imagine a society where this pace of life is king. No balance, no halfway measures. Can you imagine it?”
There was no response. Delta smiled again. “You’re a tough crowd to convince. Anyway, your response says it all. It couldn’t happen, could it? Society would crumble within a week. People, weak as they are, wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure. Suicides would be at an all-time high. After a while, the idea of society would be moot. In a life where it is all or nothing, the weak wouldn’t survive and there wouldn’t be enough of the strong for society to function.”
Kieran nodded. “Okay, I can see that.”
Delta unbuttoned his jacket and took it off. He folded it neatly and placed it into the arms of a waiting clone. He moved closer to the young couple. “So, obviously, for this kind of existence to occur, we needed a trial period. A probationary period, a ‘pilot’ so to speak. Like a new ground-breaking TV show. You get a test audience and see if it’s a viable commodity. And when I say ‘we’, I mean an elite group of people, including myself and some influential upstanding pillars in certain communities.”
Heather laughed. “No way. Look, I’m not being funny, Mr.—”
“—Delta.” He finished her sentence. Delta rubbed his chin, listening.
“Mr. Delta, as I say, I’m not being funny, but no one in their right mind would sanction such nonsense. It couldn’t possibly work. Society isn’t that controlled.”
Delta gave a patronising grin. “You’re right, Heather, it isn’t. Society is a mess. Did you know that the average IQ has dropped within a range of twenty to thirty over the past decade? That’s the average. When polled, people in society openly admit to not being able to read and write. Schools are still teaching these essential tools to people, but in a world dominated by social media, the internet and technology that spell-checks everything for you, people are having their hands held every day. What’s the point in teaching people to read and write when their second language is gibberish? I mean, have you seen the way some people speak to each other? LOL this, YOLO that. It’s bollocks.”
Kieran chose to disagree: “No. The youth of today are just finding an identity for themselves, it’s the natural progression of things.”
Delta shook his head. “No, it’s not. I know a guy who doesn’t even know where Scotland is. I had a person question the legitimacy of a place called Teesside, which is one of the biggest localities in the United Kingdom. An identity is something that personalises you, tells people who you are. When you don’t know where Scotland is, that’s not an identity, it’s a problem. It’s not listening at school or flunking out or not paying attention because you live in a lazy, idealistic society where everything is decided for you. Want a job? Don’t worry, our benefits system will relieve you of the need to get one. Want to run for President? Google it and in a week you can learn everything you need. Want to hold a conversation in public? No need, we can do it on Facebook. Society is lazy. People don’t do anything for themselves nowadays. That’s why we decided to do something about it.”
Heather stood up. “Fair enough, society has, shall we say, deteri
orated over the last few years. It’s evident it would happen at some point. But no one can change that. Society is free and people can choose to do what they want. They listen to their own music, choose their path in life and certainly don’t look to others to guide them. It’s freedom in its purest form.”
“That’s true, of course. But isn’t it also true that people have been blindly following false prophets for centuries? You say people don’t want to be guided. Let’s take religion, for example. If you want an example of lazy guidance, the blind being led by the imaginary, religion is a prime example of this. A highly irrational belief in something that may or may not exist. Society is always screaming for guidance. Whether it is obviously done in a church or secretly coveted by all humans, it is a core part of the human existence. A sizeable majority of people always look to others to lead them. No one wants to be the first person to try the newest fad. It’s a lemming complex.”
Kieran laughed. “You can’t say that about religion. People have been following their particular faith for hundreds of years. People sometimes need faith. The human race, sometimes, isn’t a nice thing to belong to. Some people need faith to get them through the tough times—”
“— And that is where the weak come into it again,” Delta cut him off. “Surely, if you can’t live your own life, on your terms, then it can’t be called a life? You might as well be a puppet. Ever heard of peer pressure? But I digress.”
The sophisticated stranger took a small flask from his pocket. He held it out to Kieran and Heather. Both declined. Delta sipped it and sluiced the liquid around his mouth. He placed the flask back in his pocket. He looked at the clones around him, who hadn’t moved at all. They were all still focused on Heather and Kieran.
“As I was saying, we decided to do something about it. Now, I’m free to speak about this to you because at the moment, you are still in my show – I will come back to that – so I have complete control. The Company is a secret organisation. When I say secret, I mean they don’t exist. To the outside world they don’t exist, anyway. The Company is made up of a select number of people from around the world. Some are presidents, some are prime ministers. There are priests, teachers, business owners, bankers, celebrities, musicians, you name it, if they have enough money, they are probably involved in it. However, you have to pass a test to get in – which is where the show comes in.”
Kieran and Heather stared at Delta in bemused silence.
“The Game is the job interview of a lifetime. Every five years, four selected people from around the world participate in the ultimate online show. Their prize? A position in The Company. If they lose, well, that’s best not thought about. The Company can ruin your life, choose ways of destroying you. So basically, losing is not an option. It’s all or nothing. A Chronicle – that’s me in this case – has complete control over his unsuspecting Choice, in this case, you. In The Game, anything can happen. For example, you can kill, you can torture and you can place two unknowing people into a facility full of human clones and let them run the gauntlet.”
Delta watched their faces. It took ten seconds for both of them to realise what he’d said, but Heather reacted first. “You…you mean, this is some kind of a fucking game?”
“Bingo, sweet cheeks. Yes, it’s a game. The ultimate game.”
Silence filled the room. Kieran stood up. “I should fucking kill you.”
Delta didn’t flinch. “Now, now, I would say you’re seriously outmanned, so keep that temper in check. Besides, I’m sure you have some questions, don’t you? I would, if I were you. After all, this is pretty impressive.”
Heather felt her face flush hot with rage. She tried to compose the words, but nothing came out. Kieran flexed his arms, but stared down at the ground.
Delta laughed. “Are you really surprised? It has been happening for years. What do you think these reality shows are all about? Sticking people in a jungle, or in a house full of morons? It paved the way for The Game. Our version is just much classier, more expensive and dangerous and much more fulfilling. No one wants to see celebrities put into a house and just sit there. People want to see normal humans tested. Tested to their limit. Normal people, under extreme stress, evolve and develop. That catharsis on screen is stuff money can’t buy. It brings in the big bucks. Do you know, a thirty-second advert for a non-specific whisky company, aired during the debut of The Game, brought in more revenue than the last four Super Bowls combined? Now, that’s power.”
The older man took his flask out again. Kieran looked up and met his eyes. “This can’t be happening. You mean to tell us that there’s a secret organisation, financed by the government and the wealthy, and they hold a contest, The Game, as you call it, for their own sick entertainment?”
Delta swigged from his flask. “Yep. Every five years. No Pay-Per-View in the world can match it.”
Heather shook her head. “That’s disgusting. It’s sick.”
Delta shook his head. “It’s no worse than your average reality show.”
The younger man looked at him in shock. “You can’t be serious. Did you just say that you kill people?”
“Just as the military does. People volunteer for that, go to war and come back in a fucking box. There isn’t anything going on in The Game that doesn’t happen in the real world. It’s just more, how shall I put it, controlled.”
“No, it’s a fucking travesty. You can’t do this to… Hang on…” Kieran considered things for a moment.
“Yes?” Delta sneered.
“How is this a secret? You said it is online? Well everyone has access to the internet.”
“Have you not been listening? It’s pay per view. Like boxing or wrestling. Just much more expensive. The show costs just shy of twenty grand to view it. And only the wealthy need apply.”
“But surely anyone can pay for it? What’s to stop someone poor from saving their hard earned cash for five years and watching?”
Heather looked at Delta, awaiting his response.
Delta laughed. “We have protocols and codes. Anyone who pays must have a minimum amount of money in their bank account. Name one person you know that always has a hundred thousand bucks in their account at one time? The Company is secret, they have guidelines. They wouldn’t remain secret if just anyone could join in. They also wouldn’t make much of a profit. This is for high earners only. Richest of the rich.”
Kieran couldn’t take it in. “So, basically you all get together and mock the poor, and in doing so, make them do the dirty work in The Game for you? That’s demented.”
“But essential,” replied Delta. “You see, slowly, we are purging the world of violence.”
“How can you be, by using only four people at a time? It would take you a lifetime to make progress.” Kieran could hardly contain his anger.
“It’s baby steps. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
There was silence while everyone tried to understand what was going on. Heather looked up, realisation dawning on her features. “How did you choose us? I mean, why us? I’m not wealthy, why were we exceptional people?”
Delta licked his lips. “That’s a good question. In theory, everyone is eligible to take part. Taking part, as in being in The Game. Only the wealthiest get to be a Chronicle. You know the electoral roll? That database that holds everyone’s details? Yeah, if you are on it, you’re eligible. Obviously we remove any cripples, old people, and celebrities. Yes, famous people are exempt. One year, The Game tried that and it didn’t work out so well. Let’s just say, that famous person never resurfaced. It was the closest anyone had come to exposing The Company. I remember watching that year. It was intense.”
Heather was looking on, stunned.
“So, anyway, this is how it works,” Delta continued. “Everyone is put into a database. They’re run through a schematic and the people who come out, at random, get selected. Obviously, certain personality traits, detailed through surveillance and research, are beneficial. I mean, The Company wouldn’t w
ant to put a psycho in the game, it wouldn’t be much fun. Same applies to a mentally ill person, only the healthy will do.”
Heather gulped. For a moment, she said nothing. Then she asked quietly, “So how did you choose us?”
“Well, you were an exceptional case. Kieran, for the record, you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Heather. When she was chosen, we had to take you because you were, well, connected. You were on the shortlist, but timing was everything.”
Kieran shook his head. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you might not remember because of the drugs we gave you. But before we picked up Heather, you two were drinking in a bar. All friendly and getting to know each other.”
Heather froze. She looked into space, running the events through her head. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“I shit you not. And that leads me to the other selection process.”
Kieran felt the knot in his jaw again. “Which is?”
“A Chronicle, well he can select someone of his own choosing if he doesn’t find a candidate in the database. He can pick someone personal to him. Chronicles are mostly men. Women can apply, but only a select few make it through.”
Heather felt her stomach tighten. She swallowed. Kieran spoke before she did: “Tell me, then. I mean, which category was Heather?” Kieran looked at Heather resentfully… Heather picked up on it. It was as if he was saying: what did you get me into?
Delta patted his perfectly coiffed hair. “Well, that’s the fun part. Heather, you were personal to me, very personal to me. The funny thing is, Kieran is too, just not in the way you think.”
Heather narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
Delta held his arms out. “Heather, I want to introduce you to your father.”
Heather’s mouth dropped open and then closed. “No! No! This isn’t true. My father is dead.”
The smile vanished from Delta’s face. “I suppose your whore mother told you that? No, I didn’t die. I left you, as a kid. I didn’t want kids, your mother forced me into it. Sorry, but I’m telling you the truth.”
