-15-
“Where are we going?” Cora asked as she and Remmy walked through the Emo camp. Cora was surrounded with new, overwhelming sights, things she had never known to exist. Deceptively simple actions were alien and incredible. A mother cradled a tiny baby, gently rocking and singing to it as it cooed. A group of dirt speckled children played an intense game that appeared to involve little more than tagging another person and remaining still until someone else tagged them. People smiled and laughed. Life, one that Cora had never known to be possible, seemed to unfold around her and she liked it.
“This is amazing,” Cora grinned as she watched the children play.
“Amazing? That’s tag,” Remmy snorted. “Don’t you get to play games inside the cities?”
“Games?” Cora repeated. “Um, well, I guess so, but not like this. We practice with virtual simulators that train us to be better citizens.”
“Train you?” Remmy asked. “To do what?”
“Boring things, nothing really,” Cora answered quickly. This was the first lie that Cora had ever told. The lie formed easily. She knew what she had just said was untrue, but somehow, she knew that telling Remmy the truth would have been worse. The simulators were really little more than virtual realms created by the ERC to desensitize the young citizens and train them to hate Emos. Cora must have killed hundreds, if not thousands, of digital Emos and thought nothing of it, but now she saw each one with Remmy’s face and wanted to vomit.
“Sounds fun,” Remmy quipped. “Anyway, you think Xander is going to be okay? He seems pretty angry for someone with an Em-Pak. I thought those things were supposed to make you zombies or something.” He saw the look flash across Cora’s face and quickly added, “No offense, of course.”
“None taken,” Cora smiled. “I think I was probably told some things about you that weren’t true either.”
“Sure seems like Xander believes them,” Remmy added, looking back towards the tent.
“Xander believes whatever our father told him,” Cora answered. “He wants nothing more than to join the ERC and become a politician, but can’t stand the fact that our father wanted that for me.”
“You didn’t want it?” Remmy asked. “I mean, did you really have a choice? Couldn’t they just make you?”
“No, it wasn’t something that I wanted. That’s for sure,” Cora laughed. “And no, they couldn’t make me. A lot of citizens are pretty brainwashed and they might like to blame their Em-Paks and the ERC, but the truth is that the Em-Paks only erase emotions once they show up. Most of the time you don’t feel anything, then once in a while it’ll beep, and then you go back to feeling nothing again. But in the end, we still make our own decisions. I just think that most citizens are too scared to make any decision that the ERC hasn’t already made for them.”
“You don’t feel anything?” Remmy asked wide-eyed. “Nothing?”
“Pretty much,” Cora admitted. “You can still feel, just not really anything more than okay though. At school, we’d whisper about emotions. You know, just rumors and stuff that we’d heard from older people who still remembered not having an Em-Pak.”
“So you’ve never felt happy or sad or anything?” Remmy pressed on.
“No, I guess not,” Cora answered. “But if you never did, then I guess you don’t know what you’re missing out on, right? Besides, none of us thought it was safe. We’ve all been told since birth that emotions lead to infection.”
“But that’s not true,” Remmy protested, “why would they lie to you?”
“I can see that now,” Cora nodded. “A lot of the stuff we were taught feels like lies now.” Cora looked around the camp. Everything she had been taught felt like a lie.
“You shouldn’t be afraid to feel things,” Remmy said calmly. “Don’t worry about not having the Em-Pak. Try not to get angry like you did back there with Xander, but other than that, you’re safe to feel whatever you want.”
“Really?” Cora asked hesitantly. “But what will I do if I feel that way again? Does that mean I’ll turn into a Red?”
“No, not if you learn to control it,” Remmy answered.
“That seems,” Cora paused, she wanted to impossible, “difficult.”
“Yeah, it can be,” Remmy said honestly. “But you’ll learn. I’ll help you.”
With those simple words, Remmy calmed the turbulent waters that battered against Cora’s mind. Things would be okay. Remmy would help her.
“Now, um, about those lies the ERC taught you,” Remmy said slowly.
“Yes?” Cora asked. Her face scrunched with concern.
“Well, there’s a pretty big one that we need to clear up,” Remmy continued. “One that we kind of fed to the ERC, but we had to. You’ll see.”
“Um, okay?” Cora shrugged.
“It’s the doctor,” Remmy added, “the one who saved you and removed your Em-Pak.”
“What about?” Cora asked.
Remmy stopped outside a large green canvas tent that was used as the hospital. He grabbed the large flap and pulled it aside for Cora to step inside. Bright lights were strung along the center support, illuminating the interior.
“See for yourself,” Remmy motioned for Cora to go inside.
Cora hesitated and stepped in. Three rows of cots ran along each side and the strong tang of antiseptic filled the air. Various glass containers lined a small shelf, each filled with assorted medical supplies.
Cora cast a troubled look to Remmy, who stood behind her.
“It’s okay,” Remmy smiled, “really.”
“Hello?” Cora asked as she stepped further into the tent.
“Cora?” a voice called from the back. It was gentle and tinged with wisdom. “Cora, wait right there. I’ll be right out.”
Cora’s eyes went wide as the doctor emerged from around the back of a white screen.
“My lord, Cora, how you’ve grown,” an old man smiled, his eyes wet with tears. “I never thought that I’d get to see you like this.”
Samuel Eldritch, the first Samuel Eldritch, Cora’s grandfather stood before her, but looked nothing like the imposing images of him produced by the ERC. This man seemed loving and gentle, nothing like her father and nothing like the shadow that she had been forced to live in.
“You’re Samuel Eldritch?” Cora said hesitantly. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Yes,” Samuel nodded, “it’s me Cora. Please come in and sit. I’ll explain everything. There is so much to tell you. So much for you to learn. I’ve missed you, Cora, missed you all dearly. I know it’s all difficult for you to understand, but all will be made clear.”
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Cora repeated and before she could stop herself, tears dotted her eyes as well.
-16-
Riots sprang up throughout the cities like mushrooms after the rain. The ERC demanded to know why Eldritch was allowing things to degenerate to their current levels, but he assured them that it was all part of the plan. Even though the ERC ultimately agreed, Eldritch could feel the noose tightening ever so slightly around his neck.
Eldritch looked over the program and codes created by his father. Each Em-Pak was individually coded for the implanted citizen. This made it easy for the ERC to track a malfunctioned or removed Em-Pak, but it also meant that Eldritch could zero in on individual Em-Paks, possibly amplifying their effects or completely turning them off. All he would need to do is gain access to the main server located inside the central ERC building in the Stele. This feat though, was far easier said than done.
The main server was located behind fourteen inch steel doors, security checkpoints and a myriad of other precautions that would prevent Eldritch from entering. The ERC Council themselves, hardly ever went into the main server room. So much careful planning and plotting had come down to this and all that separated Eldritch from realizing his aspirations were a few inches of steel.
The phone vibrated and danced across the papers scattered on Eldritch’s desk,
knocking a pen loose to roll to the floor. Eldritch momentarily reached for the pen, deeming it more important, but seeing that it was Captain Ortiz calling, stopped and snatched up the phone.
“Yes?” Eldritch answered, his Em-Pak beeping with each heartbeat.
“Sir?” Ortiz asked, “Are we on a secure line?” Ortiz was all business and Eldritch admired that. He had known that Ortiz was the right man for the job.
Eldritch paused and checked the small jamming unit sitting on the edge of his desk. The row of five small lights flashed bright green, signaling their fulfillment of purpose.
“Yes,” Eldritch responded, “we’re on a secure line. What is there to report, Captain?”
“Following riots, the Reds are continuing to crop up in small pockets throughout the outer cities,” Ortiz began. “There have been some reports of minor outbreaks in some of the more secure cities. I don’t think it will be long before there are Reds in the Stele. Perhaps, we need to expedite our plans, sir? The situation may become unmanageable soon.”
“Agreed,” Eldritch said. “The only remaining component to the realization of our plan is to gain access to the main server.”
“The one within the central ERC building, sir?” Ortiz said slowly. His Em-Pak chirped a few times before the tension in his voice eased. Ortiz was a soldier, knew how to calculate battle risk and what Eldritch was asking seemed impossible. “I’m not exactly sure how that could be accomplished, sir.”
“Just continue with the Emo insurgency,” Eldritch barked. “As the Reds get closer to the Stele, make sure that you’re not far behind. By my estimation, the infection and Reds should be within the walls by the end of the week. I want that building under siege.”
“Under siege?” Ortiz questioned. “But sir, if the building is under attack, won’t they lock it down and implement emergency protocol? Won’t that make things more difficult?”
“Yes, they will, Captain, and that is exactly what I’m counting on. When the Council activates emergency procedures, the first action they will take is to address the citizens,” Eldritch answered.
“Still sir, with all due respect, I don’t see this adding up,” Ortiz protested. The math of this plan was not balanced. Ortiz was a man that relied upon cold logic and statistics with or without an Em-Pak. “The employment of emergency protocols will make things incredibly difficult, sir.”
“Not, if I’m inside when it happens,” Eldritch said, his voice smooth and confident. “Like I said, you worry about playing up the Emo threat and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Understood sir,” Ortiz snapped.
“Good man,” Eldritch responded and hung up.
Eldritch paused for a moment to consider what he had just ordered Captain Ortiz to do, but without an emotional frame of reference, all that could be understood was that each dead citizen would help pave the way to a better future. Surely, they would willingly offer up their lives, secure in the knowledge that their deaths were insignificant compared to the greater good. Beyond that, it really was nothing more than simple math, basic numbers and computation. Some citizens needed to die so that Eldritch could save the rest. The majority’s needs out weighed the minority’s rights. That was nature and there was no need to look beyond that explanation. He would save them from the ERC and their antiquated plan. The citizens deserved better leadership. They deserved Eldritch and had from the beginning, but the ERC Council had denied him his rightful place, his birthright. Soon they would learn the price for this slight.
Pressing a few keys on his computer, Eldritch called up the Em-Pak database. Countless, randomly sequenced numbers filled the spreadsheet on his screen. Regular citizens would never have had access to these numbers, would never have known the true identities of the ERC Council, but Eldritch was far from a regular citizen.
-17-
The funeral for Cora’s mother was brief, but left an indelible mark upon her. She had been to other funerals, ones sanctioned and organized by the ERC to commemorate some supposed hero in the war against the Reds and Emos. But these had all been one dimensional, filled with no sense of loss or permanence. The politicians and ERC were simply cogs spinning in a massive machine. When one died, it was just replaced with another and things continued as if nothing had happened at all.
Unsanctioned funerals for family and friends had been outlawed by the ERC. These ceremonies, once a source of catharsis and comfort, were now deemed dangerous and unnecessary. Citizens were taught to forget the dead. Only those that had contributed to the cause were worth remembering. Besides, with the assistance and influence of an Em-Pak, Cora had never found the means, let alone the need to mourn anyone.
Now as Cora gazed in the narrow rectangular hole crudely scratched into the earth, she was overwhelmed by the surge of emotions. A crushing sense of loss weighed upon her. Numerous questions that could never be answered demanded to be voiced, but Cora kept her mouth closed, her teeth grinding together as silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
“So much sentimentality,” Xander said, a note of disgust briefly flavoring his words. “It’s just life, just science. If you’re born, you’re going to have to die. You’re such a child sometimes, Cora. But I guess I should expect that from an Emo.” Xander’s Em-Pak chirped and he stopped talking, but his words had already cut Cora.
“She was our mother, Xander,” Cora growled through gritted teeth. “That means something.”
“If you say so,” Xander shrugged as he kicked a clod of dirt into the open grave.
“Stop that!” Cora cried.
“What? This?” Xander asked as he kicked more dirt. “It’s going to have to get filled in at some point. Otherwise the animals will come and –”
Cora’s hand moved in a flash, leaving a bright red imprint of itself on Xander’s cheek. The boy looked shocked for a moment and then seemed simply to absorb the pain.
“You done?” Xander smiled sickly as he gently touched his cheek.
“Yeah,” Cora snapped. Her stomach felt like it was doing back flips and her head swam with anger as she glared at her brother. “Leave, Xander.”
“I thought this was supposed to mean something, Cora?” Xander mocked. “Aren’t I supposed to sit beside this hole in the dirt and think longingly of all of the wonderful times we never had with our mother. To fondly remember all of those times that never existed?”
“Xander,” Cora said, a note of danger in her voice, “leave. Now.” Her brother shrugged once more, kicked some more dirt, and turned to leave.
Cora collapsed to the ground, a sob erupting from her lips. Xander was an awful person, probably even without his Em-Pak, but he was right about one thing – there really were no good times to mourn. Cora had lived her entire life with a mother who was harnessed to an Em-Pak, so developing an emotional attachment to the woman had been nearly impossible. Some part of Cora though, knew that Xander was wrong.
The role of mother was something important, sacred even, and the loss of one was an event to mourn. Cora had never been given the chance to love her mother or to feel her mother’s love, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it was really there, buried deep underneath her Em-Pak. What if her mother never had an Em-Pak or had it removed? Would things have been different? Would she have been different? Cora believed that she would have been. She had to believe that the woman who had given her life would have loved her and silently hated her brother for mocking such a sacrosanct role.
“You okay?” Remmy’s voice asked gently as he knelt down beside Cora. The other Emos allowed Cora alone time to mourn as she saw fit, but Remmy remained on the edge of the clearing just in case Cora needed him. “Kind of a stupid question to ask at times like these, but I mean are you as okay as you can be considering everything?”
“I guess,” Cora sniffed. “Xander is such a jerk.”
“I’d probably use a different word,” Remmy grinned, “but he’s your brother, so we’ll stick with jerk for now.”
“I wish Samuel could be he
re,” Cora admitted. Her grandfather had wanted to be there, had even helped Remmy and his father dig the grave during the night, but couldn’t be there with Cora, not with Xander around. It was simply too risky. Xander would surely recognize Samuel as his grandfather and no one could predict how he would react.
“I know,” Remmy said as he placed a hand on Cora’s shoulder. “I’m sure that he wishes that he could too, but with Xander, it would be too dangerous.”
“Yeah,” Cora mumbled, “I know.” Her eyes traveled over to where Remmy’s hand rested on her shoulder. It was a simple gesture, just the placement of a hand, really nothing more, but it somehow meant the world to Cora in that moment. It anchored her to the people that were still here, those that she could still care for and who could still care for her. “Thanks, Remmy.”
“For what?” Remmy asked.
“I don’t know,” Cora shrugged, “everything, I guess.”
“Already told you that you don’t have to thank me,” Remmy smiled.
He was so kind, so gentle. Why couldn’t Xander be more like him, Cora wondered? Maybe no one could? Maybe there was only one person like Remmy in the entire world? And right now that person, that singularly amazing special person was right there with her.
Cora leaned into Remmy. He slowly wrapped his arm around her and tucked her head under his chin. No more words needed to be spoken. Nothing was left to say. Cora, feeling Remmy’s support and strength, finally let go, and allowed herself to cry.
What she felt was terrible, like someone ripping her heart into shreds. She momentarily wondered if her pain and sadness were actually causing some sort of unseen physical harm.
“It’s okay,” Remmy said softly, “let it go. It’s the only way to feel better.”
Cora hated her Em-Pak. Hated that it had robbed her of her mother’s love and of so much more, but these feelings were almost unbearable. How could a person survive them, let alone ever feel happy again? It seemed impossible. But with no other point of reference, Cora listened to Remmy’s strong, steady voice. Just let go…
Love Bug Page 6
