by Andrew Gates
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!
The buzzer rang loudly as Tracey Saljov opened his dreary eyes. He looked to the side as the glowing numbers shined in his face, taunting him like a restless child. Another day, he told himself, another day of the same, only this time I’m fucked.
After shutting off the buzzer, Tracey made his best effort to get out of bed. It took him a few tries. Each time he would rise, pause to relax for a mere second and suddenly find himself shrouded in the comfort of his bed sheets. On the fourth time, or maybe the fifth (he was not quite sure), Tracey finally managed to pull himself out of bed, stumble to the light switch and flip it on.
His head still rang from the night before. Tracey held his left hand to his forehead and pressed down, but that didn’t help. It was as if he had been hit by a power scooter. Hell, maybe I did get hit by a power scooter for all I know. With all those lights from the clubs, it was hard to stay sane even when sober. Tracey could swear President Ortega painted the district multicolored just to fuck everyone who went there. Of course the colors were around before Ortega, but fuck it, I don’t know who else to blame.
Two shots of whopski and a green milk bomb were not enough to send him over the edge. Tracey switched to beer from that point on. It was that damn SLI, he told himself. Once he let that white vapor enter his lungs, his body and mind belonged to the Lord Beyond Both Seas. Two shots of whopski could have turned into 10 for all he knew. His memory became as black as the sea floor by that point. Dammit.
This had been happening a lot more lately. Ever since his younger brother outranked him, nothing had been the same. Weekly visits to the colored zone became daily ones. But the pain was still there. Damien was younger after all. Tracey was supposed to protect him, look after him. Now he’s looking after me. It was not long after his brother’s promotion that Tracey quit the Navy. He decided the life was not for him. If Damien can rise in the ranks and I can’t, there is nothing I can do for them. His brother had not been any more talented that he was, but rather the Navy was simply out for Tracey from the beginning. They fucking hated me and I knew it.
As far as Tracey was concerned, there was nothing good about the government. Ortega was bad, of course, but the problem did not start with him. It had been bad from the start, even down to the motto.
Progress through obedience.
The words made Tracey snicker. Yeah, but who’s progress? They claimed it was the progress of all humanity, but he was never quite so certain. Humanity was already dead. Humanity died the second the bombs fell. The Lord Beyond Both Seas must have had mercy on the few who got away; either that or we’re the ones who foiled his plan.
This was Ortega’s world now. Humanity was out of the equation.
“Dad!” the voice could be heard through the plastic white door. Tracey knew the voice. Ophelia was already up.
Tracey grabbed a pair of brown pants, pulled on a white shirt and opened the door without even checking himself in the mirror. He had to cover his eyes as he entered the living room. It was as white as a rich man’s teeth and as bright as the Lord himself.
“Ophelia, what are you doing up? You don’t have school,” he asked as he walked in. He wondered if she could tell how sick he felt. She probably can. She’s a smart girl.
His daughter stood in the center of the room wearing a white dress decorated in elaborate designs of various colors. He seemed to recall the word to be flowers but it had been a long time since he learned his surface facts. He liked the colors though. It almost reminded him of the entertainment district.
“Why are you all dressed up?” he asked, before allowing her to answer.
Ophelia smiled before saying anything. Clearly she wanted to show off what she was wearing. It was about that time she grew interested in fashion. Already 12 years old, she would be starting middle school in only a few more days.
“You like it?” she asked. “I got it last night.”
Last night? What happened last night? Oh that’s right, the bar.
“Oh?” Tracey asked. He walked past her and fell into the couch nearby. It felt good to sit down. Unbelievably good. “And where did you get the money for a dress like that?”
Ophelia smiled again. She loved toying with her father.
“A boy bought it for me,” she answered. She blushed as she said it.
Tracey rolled his eyes. Now we’re at this phase too, he realized. Shit. Not only was it too early to deal with this, but his mental state made the situation even more complicated. Tracey wondered if Ophelia had planned it out that way on purpose. She probably did, he thought. She’s a smart girl.
“Alright, who’s this boy? Someone at school?”
Ophelia shook her head amusingly.
“I don’t know anyone at school yet. It was Cedric,” she answered.
Cedric, as if that makes it okay. Cedric was the neighbor boy, a few years older than Ophelia. The two of them spent a lot of time with each other, wandering through the green and yellow areas, playing digital games at each other’s homes. They had been friends for a long time, but that did not make it okay for him to buy her nice dresses.
“Why did he buy you this dress?” he asked.
“Cedric’s dad got a promotion, he said. He got more allowance from his parents, but he never buys anything.”
Tracey leaned forward, although he loved the feel of the couch against his back.
“So you asked him to buy the dress for you?” he asked.
Ophelia shook her head. Her neat blonde hair whooshed from side to side across her face.
“He bought it on his own. He said he never buys anything so he doesn’t need the money,” she explained again.
“Ophelia, you know sometimes boys buy things for girls because they want something from you,” he said, hoping to get the message across without needing to go into further detail. He wondered if she would understand.
“I know, but he’s not like that. He was just being nice.”
“How do you know?”
She started to look visibly frustrated by her father’s questions. She stared at him motionlessly as her smile faded away like a puddle of water flowing down the drain. Tracey never wanted to make her mad, but he always looked out for her best interests. He was a parent after all and this was a natural parental response.
“I just know, dad. Can’t I have a friend who’s a boy?” she asked.
Tracey sighed and leaned back into the couch again. Bad day for a hangover.
“Yes, of course you can, but just watch out is all I’m saying. Just be careful. He’s older than you and he lives next door. I’m just worried is all,” he answered.
Ophelia wasted no time responding to that.
“You told me you had a neighbor friend when you were a kid,” she said.
Dammit, she has me there.
Tracey could not think of a way out of this one. When he was her age, he was very close friends with a girl named Iris, a soft spoken blonde-haired girl down the hall. She was a few years younger than him, but her mind was just as sharp, if not sharper. They would run through the yellow zones, chase each other through the white halls and ride around on unpowered scooters. She would tell him all about books and history while he would tell her all about submarines and loaders. They were an odd match, one studious and shy, the other adventurous and outgoing, but a match nonetheless. She used to call him Trace, he remembered. Tracey is a girl’s name, he used to tell himself. But that name died away when they moved apart. He never found out what happened to her. He had not seen or heard from her since they were kids. He wondered if she even remembered him.
“Iris,” Tracey said aloud.
“Yes, Iris! That’s the one,” Ophelia responded excitedly. She knew she had him.
“Alright, you got me there. But look, you still should watch out, okay?” Tracey stood up as he said this. He decided he had spent enough time sitting down. Hangover or not, he still had to get to work on time.
“Okay, fine.” Ophelia’s tone was
unenthusiastic, almost sarcastic, but Tracey was not surprised. He supposed he would have responded the same way at her age. It all takes time, he thought.
He made his way to the kitchen, pretending everything was fine. He took a plate from the cupboard and found an ovular bread roll fresh from the agricultural sector, courtesy of President Ortega. Government food, he thought. Filled with drugs. Despite his distaste for the Federation, there was not really an alternative option. Black market food, though deemed healthier, was becoming increasingly risky and increasingly expensive. The government had been cracking down on illegal food production lately, not that the media had reported on it much. But that was typical. Ortega is just tightening his grip. Thank the Lord Beyond Both Seas the Saturday market still exists.
“So you never answered my first question,” Tracey said, trying to get his mind off the government for once. He turned towards Ophelia, who had followed him into the kitchen area. “Why are you up so early?”
She shrugged innocently.
“Oh, couldn’t sleep,” she said.
“Couldn’t sleep?” This was unusual. Ophelia was usually a very heavy sleeper. Within 10 minutes she could fall asleep anywhere at any time. Four years ago they travelled to see Tracey’s aunt at work in the production sector. On the way, little Ophelia had fallen asleep during the elevator ride. Tracey had never seen someone fall asleep in an elevator before, nor any time since.
“I was just excited,” she replied. “You know, with school starting up.”
Tracey nodded and smiled. For a second he forgot about his headache. Perhaps the conversation was providing a good distraction.
“Middle school,” he said as he took a bite of the bread. He had not even realized how hungry he was until he took that first bite.
“Is middle school hard?” she asked.
Tracey did not expect this question. Ophelia was usually prepared for everything.
“Middle school? No, middle school is easy. And fun too,” Tracey replied. “You have different classes, you will make new friends and you start off with a field trip to the mining sector! I wish I had a cool field trip like that when I was your age.” Though in truth, he had snuck into the mining sector at her age and secretly watched the rocks come in and out of the large docking doors. Tracey never needed field trips to see the restricted zones, just sneakiness and a bit of courage.
“You didn’t have a field trip like that?” she asked.
“Nope. We never saw the mining sector, or anything like that. We were in school the whole time. We didn’t do much but read,” he replied honestly.
“Sounds boring.”
Tracey chuckled. Damn fucking right.
“What if it’s too much work though?” she asked.
Tracey shook his head as he stuffed another piece of processed bread into his mouth.
“You’ll be fine,” he replied after chewing enough bites to be intelligible.
Ophelia walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a red flavored probar. Tracey did not like her eating that kind of stuff, but she was a picky girl and he was not in the mood to argue. He watched as she unwrapped it from the foil, wondering how much of it came from the agricultural sector.
“But I’m going to have more homework, right? Will I have to go to homeroom each morning, sit quietly and recite the pledge like I did before?” she asked.
Tracey nodded.
“Unfortunately, yes. You will have more homework. But you’re good at homework and it’s not that bad. You’ll still have a lot of time. And you’ll probably have to go to homeroom, but if they make you recite that pledge again, you tell them what I said before,” he replied. Tracey was not fond of the pledge, not since the Navy made it their goal to spite him. Funny how joining the Navy destroyed my patriotism.
Ophelia shrugged as she bit into the red colored bar of chemistry.
“I don’t want more homework, but I don’t mind the pledge. I like the pledge,” she said.
I was afraid you’d say that. But Tracey did not anticipate what Ophelia would do next. She put the bar down onto the counter and stood straight as support beam.
“I pledge myself, both body and mind, to the ideals of the Atlantic Federation,” she started. Tracey shook his head and pointed his finger towards her.
“Don’t you say that!” he said to her. But she would not listen. She continued to recite the pledge as if he was not even there. Suddenly Tracey felt his headache again. The pain was returning.
“- that we as humanity may survive and prosper, under the Light of the Lord Beyond Both Seas…”
Tracey placed his left hand on his head again and pressed down. The pressure did little to calm the pain. He felt dehydrated, dizzy. Damn hangover.
“Progress through obedience,” she continued. Those were the words that hit him the hardest. “Long live the Federation.”
Tracey sighed.
“Are you done now?” he asked.
Ophelia smiled like she was opening a gift on her birthday. This is all amusing to her. She was clearly in a taunting mood this morning.
“Of course, dad.”
Tracey leaned down towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders.
“Do you know what that means? Do you know what those words mean?” he asked.
Ophelia smiled again.
“Of course, dad!”
Tracey was not so convinced.
“It means you have to pledge yourself, promise yourself that you will do whatever the government tells you. That you have to be obedient, do whatever they say without questioning it. That’s not right, Ophelia. Those words aren’t right. We should never do something without questioning it. We should always question what people tell us to do. Do you understand?” he explained.
Ophelia paused for a few seconds but then the grin washed from her face and she nodded her head.
“Does this mean I can hang out with Cedric more?” she asked.
Tracey was taken by surprise. That was not the response he expected.
“Uh, what does Cedric have to do with this?”
Ophelia looked up into his eyes.
“You said question what people tell me to do. Well you told me to watch out for Cedric, so I’m going to question what you tell me to do,” she responded.
Of course she would, he thought. She’s a smart girl.
“Ha, not me, just everyone else,” he explained, knowing this answer would not satisfy her either. She’s too smart for me, he realized.
“But you said-”
“I know what I said,” Tracey interrupted, “but look, just listen. I’m your father. You should always listen to your father. Okay?”
Ophelia nodded without saying a word. She doesn’t get it, Tracey realized, but she will eventually. She always does eventually. She’s a smart girl after all.
Bang, bang, bang!
The booming knocks erupted from the front door. Tracey and Ophelia both turned towards the noise immediately.
“Who is that?” Ophelia asked.
Tracey reached for his pod but quickly realized it was not in his pocket. Perhaps he had left it in his room. Either that or the bar has it now. He did not know exactly what time it was but he knew it was early, too early for visitors, especially unexpected ones.
The father walked towards the noise and reached for the door. As the white slab slid open, Tracey could feel the cold handle against his palm. At least I can still feel the normal things. I’m not that fucked up… yet.
A man stood at attention on the other side, wearing a white uniform as clean as a real estate agent’s showroom. Two guards stood behind him like statues trapped in photographs. The goddamn whitecoats, thought Tracey, though in reality he supposed he should not have been too surprised. Ortega’s hunters, coming to pull me back in. That’s what they do to quitters.
“Ophelia, go back into your room,” he said, turning back towards his daughter.
To his relief, she did not fight. Perhaps the expression of his face or the ton
e of his voice made her do it, but she turned and simply walked away. Thank the Lord Beyond Both Seas she didn’t try anything. That was the last thing he needed right now, that and a raging headache. Goddam whopski.
“Mr. Saljov,” the whitecoat said. Tracey turned back to face him, still holding the door open with one hand. He didn’t address me by my military rank, Tracey realized. Maybe they’re not here to bring me back. He hoped that were true. Or maybe this is all some game.
“Yes, that’s me,” he replied.
“It’s about your brother,” the whitecoat replied without any hesitation. “We’ve been trying to reach you all night. When we couldn’t get a hold of you, we decided to try you first thing in the morning. I hope you can excuse the odd timing.”
My brother. This was not what Tracey expected. Damien was a pilot for the Navy, the one who decided to stay. He was a good man, clean cut and rule abiding. He was not the type to get into trouble.
Tracey debated for a moment whether to invite these men into his home. He decided to wait and see what they had to say first before letting them through the door.
“What about Damien?” he asked, getting right to the point.
The man in front looked towards the two guards on either side of him and subtly nodded his head. He turned forward again and they all three removed their caps at the same time like machines on the production line. Suddenly Tracey felt his heartbeat pick up. Oh no, Damien. Not Damien.
“We’re sorry to tell you sir, but your brother is currently M.I.A.” he replied.
M.I.A. or missing in action. Anyone in the Navy could tell you those words were trogshit. There was no action, just routine scouting runs and patrols. If Damien was missing, it was undoubtedly the Navy’s fault. Despite Ortega’s paranoia, the enemy was nothing more than the high water pressure pushing down on them. The Pacific and Indian Stations abandoned communication long ago. Rumor had it their latest messages were confusing, illogical and impossible to interpret. Those were just government secrets of course, like everything else here in the station. But the fact remained, there was no enemy. M.I.A. my ass. Just another cover up for Ortega’s missions gone wrong.
“What are the details?” he asked, not believing a word.
