But then, I’ve always been sensitive to light.
The doctors called it Optic Nerve Hypoplasia and said I was “photosensitive.” I just knew I got a lot of headaches. In fact, I got so many headaches I was held back a grade for missing so much school.
My parents tried everything they could — expensive medicines, weird glasses, even some strange guy called a “psychotherapist.” None of it worked.
But one thing did work. Something all the doctors and experts and “psychotherapists” in the world couldn’t provide — a trip to stay with my grandmother and an evening basking in the warm, cozy glow of her modest home.
So when my parents told me that policemen had been to grandma’s house, and that we all had to travel downtown to see her, I knew immediately why they had come.
They had come for the light.
I remember very little from that day. I remember a large room, filled with people sitting in rows. I remember my grandmother, face ablaze, bellowing to a man in black robes about the “Damn fool, one-size-fits-all hogwash!” It was the only time I’d seen my grandmother angry. I remembered hearing the words “Energy Independence and Security Act” and “multiple transgressions.”
And I remember the end, being maneuvered out the big wooden doors of the imposing stone building by my parents and finally, painfully, wresting my wrists free from their grip to run, breathless and weepy, into the arms of my grandmother as she stood flanked by tall men wearing blue.
She looked right at me, inside that courthouse, her dry eyes a counterpoint to my wet ones. She only told me one thing that day, and it was the last thing I ever heard her speak, because later, when we tried to see her at the correctional nursing home facility, my parents were informed that she was refusing all visitors.
In a deeply solemn voice she said, “Keep the lights on, child.”
I could only nod and say one thing in response, “Of course I will.”
And I intend to.
* * *
J.P. Medved writes fun adventure stories and thoughtful thrillers, from Steampunk works like To Rescue General Gordon, Queen Victoria’s Ball and In the Shade of the Ishtar Trees to political thrillers like Granite Republic. You can preview his other works and download free stories at JPMedved.com.
When not writing, J.P. can be found frying anything he can get his hands on in his deep fat fryer, shooting tons of guns, and losing himself in a good book at the most inopportune times — around the dinner table, at baseball games, during heartfelt emotional conversations.
10
Death Shop
George Donnelly
“This damned thing won’t connect!” Ailsa rapped the palm-sized device on the sidewalk. Her shoulder-length, dirty blond hair spiked out in multiple directions. She brushed it back.
Texa stared at the giant viewscreen across the street. An advertisement for Xemura Pharma flashed across it. The small girl’s rheumy eyes blanked out. She sat cross-legged on the pockmarked sidewalk next to her mother. Beyond the viewscreen sat the wall. Guardians patrolled its heights with weapons ready.
“Did you hear me?” Ailsa whispered. She glanced down the street towards the feed line. “Do you have any other ideas? You are a bright little girl. I believe in—”
“With hope, you can do anything!” Texa whispered the words in unison with the mouth movements of a character onscreen. “Mommy!” She turned to Ailsa. “The audio subscription?”
Ailsa firmed her mouth. Her eyes tightened. “You know the answer, baby girl.”
“Why don’t you get us some money?” Texa furrowed her brow at her mother.
Ailsa looked away. A heaviness grew in her chest and her face burned with shame. She let the handheld device fall to the ground and opened her mouth to take a deep, calming breath. I can fix it. There is still time.
A little boy with a silver visor over his eyes ran around the corner and palmed the device. Ailsa grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards her.
“Don’t you dare!” she yelled. “I just put it down, that’s all!” She pulled the device from his hand and buried it in her gut pocket.
The boy’s visor slipped down his nose. She ripped it off of his face and he screamed.
“Didn’t your mother teach you not to steal?” Ailsa yelled.
His face seized up. His eyes were all white. “I didn’t have a mother, lady. Please, put it back. I just got it this morning and I still got a debt. I can see for the first time in seven months. I can’t live without it!”
She looked at Texa and grinned. Texa shifted her eyes towards her mother but did not look away from the viewscreen across the street.
She slipped the visor back on the boy’s face and arranged his bangs. He cocked his head to one side and smiled at her. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. It’s worth something.”
Ailsa shrugged. She turned and stared at her daughter.
The boy took a seat in front of her. “What’s your name?”
“What right do you have to my name?” Ailsa asked. “Private information.”
To her right, the end of the feed line crawled in their direction. Guardians flew in and parked their scooters in the street in front of them.
Texa growled. She got on all fours and crawled up the block past her mother so she could see the viewscreen again.
“Are you in the feed line?” asked the boy. “My name’s Henry, by the way.”
Ailsa stared at him. There was the current again, like a low hum in her brain. She shook it off. “Henry? That’s an old-fashioned one. How did you get a name like that?” She looked up the block at Texa.
“If you want to eat today, you better get in line,” said Henry. “The Gards are here to close it off, you know.” He stood up and walked towards the end of the line.
She pursed her lips. “I know how these things work.” She stood up and walked to Texa. She grabbed her arm. “It’s time to go little girl. I have a bad feeling about this.”
Down the street, Guardians blocked access to the feed line with their bodies. A shriek sounded in her ear and she crashed to one knee.
“This Xemura Feed Line is now closed. Do not attempt to join the queue. Do not move out of line. Everyone currently in line will receive a five-hundred-calorie ration courtesy of Xemura Pharma. Violators are subject to a three-day sustenance suspension. Stay in line. Remain calm. The Republic will care for us.”
The viewscreen in front of them went all-white. Ailsa noticed out of the corner of her eye that the other viewscreens on the block changed, too. Black letters appeared. “The Republic Trust is our protector!” they said. The Guardians on the wall looked down on them.
Texa turned to her mother and slapped the sidewalk. “Mom!” she whined. “The viewscreen!”
Ailsa felt the rage rise in her, too. She exhaled purposefully then smiled at her daughter. “There’s nothing—”
“Five-hundred calories a day ain’t enough for no man!” The deep, throaty yell came from behind her.
Ailsa pulled Texa to her feet. Texa refused to put her feet down and run. Ailsa held her against her chest. She ran around the corner. Texa scratched her face.
“My show’s not over! Take me back! Take me back!” Texa screamed. There was blood under her fingernails.
Ailsa grabbed Texa’s hands and squeezed them together. Blood trickled from the gashes on the young mother’s face.
“I’m sorry, baby, but things are about—”
A rising chorus came from the street behind them. “Our fair share! Our fair share! Our fair share!”
Ailsa’s neck muscles tensed. Her head arched backwards and a desperate ache spread throughout her back. “Don’t worry, baby girl. We’re almost there. Try to calm down. Do the breathing—”
“Warning,” said a genderless voice in her ear, “this is now an illegal assembly. Disperse or be terminated.”
A Guardian scooter zipped past them and stopped in their path. Henry stuck his head out of the front window. “Get on. I can save you!
”
Ailsa stopped dead and scowled at him. What more do I have to lose? Better to try than to die like an animal in the street. She climbed into the backseat and sat Texa next to her. Texa’s tiny body collapsed and her head bounced against the car door.
“Go!” yelled Ailsa. “Go!” The inside of the scooter stank of sweat and rotten food. There was a small plaque on the rear of the front passenger seat. “Sponsored by Xemura Pharma,” it said.
Henry jammed his feet into the accelerator pedal and they took off into the sky.
“We beat it! We got—” started Henry.
The termination registered in her ear as a piercing but low scream. She grimaced for a brief second then smiled at Texa and caressed her soft, blond hair. “We made it, little one. Just out of range,” she whispered. She let herself feel the exhaustion that tugged at every bone in her body. Now what?
The scooter dived forward. Ailsa’s chest slammed into the bench wall in front of her. She caught Texa and struggled to expand her lungs.
“Henry!” she yelled.
A shiny cobalt skyscraper grew in front of them. She reached forward and pulled Henry’s limp body to one side. His feet came off the pedals. The car leveled off. The building was still in front of them.
She grabbed the wheel and turned right but the inertia carried them sideways into a deep blue window. A nasty crunch sounded followed by a long screech. Their bodies were thrown hard against the crumpled driver’s side of the vehicle. They began to fall.
Ailsa fought raw panic to grab the wheel but the rest of her body would not come. The windshield screamed as air fought to pass through its broken lines. The approaching city below beckoned them on. Ahead and below, she spied the next protectorate over and the high wall that separated them. The other protectorate was a crater-filled wasteland of rock, dirt and rusting machines.
Ailsa looked back at her daughter. Texa was lodged against the back window. Her eyes were closed and her shoulders were rotated inwards. She was silent.
But we’ve come so far. “With hope, anything is possible.” Texa mouthed the words in Ailsa’s mind’s eye.
She tensed her arms and pulled her body closer to the oncoming cement. She stiffened her abdomen but her feet fought her.
Ailsa felt the weakness. This is better. She won’t feel a thing. Ailsa relaxed.
The scooter slowed and leveled off. Ailsa rolled over into the front seat.
A shrill siren sounded in her ear. “You have highjacked a Guardian vehicle. Ailsa Santamaria and Texaco Santamaria, you are hereby sentenced to thirty hours of correction. Do not attempt to exit the vehicle. Place your hands on the back of your neck and close your eyes.”
Ailsa limped out of Protectorate 13477. It was a thick, gray stone building that sprawled across the block. The windows were blackened and the street was empty. Ailsa cradled Texa in her arms. She was still asleep from the post-correction satiators.
A lone delivery truck carried a light load down the potholed street. Ailsa trundled down the hard steps. She found a viewscreen and sat down across from it on the cold cement.
“With hope, anything is possible,” she whispered. She sneered. What if there is no hope?
She jiggled her baby girl. Texa’s eyes were open but there was no spark in them. “Come on, baby, wake up.” She started to sing. “My little girl, oh, my little girl. She is so happy and sweet. I so love her, I so love—”
Ailsa’s voice choked off. She lost herself in the viewscreen soap opera but held tight onto her little girl. No one can take her from me. Never. The thought echoed in her subconscious.
Ailsa looked away from the viewscreen. It was dark. Damnit! I lost all day here. She pulled the device from her gut pocket. The Gards hadn’t thought to look for it. Still no signal. That pirate ripped me off.
The thought of Texa protruded into her mind. Ailsa didn’t want to look down at her but she forced herself. Texa’s eyes blinked. Ailsa caressed her face. “Don’t worry, little one. I will figure a way out of this for us. With hope, anything is possible, right?” I’m hoping, but I don’t know why.
The corners of Texa’s mouth creased and she licked her lips.
Ailsa walked blocks to reach their favorite spot near the feed line. Hoverbots scooped up the last of the dead bodies into shiny green dumpsters. Her ear buzzed with the warning to stay back. Hungry men, that’s all they were. And now they were dead, killed like dogs in the street without dignity.
Ailsa made her way to the short feed line and within an hour found a picnic bench in the cavernous basement of the feeding facility. She sat Texa on the edge of the bench between her legs and stuffed bite-sized chunks of bologna on white bread into the drugged-up child’s mouth.
A viewscreen came on and Texa popped awake. “Mommy!” she said in a slow, faraway voice, “You paid for the audio. It’s working.”
A Guardianship spokesperson came onscreen. “Welcome to this Guardian feeding station, brought to you by Xemura Pharma,” the white-helmeted woman said. ”You will find this food nourishing and tasty. Even the little ones love it!” she added in a sing-song voice. Her image morphed into smiling children frolicking on a grassy knoll next to a stream. “This feeding station is made possible—”
The viewscreen froze. It turned black. White words scrolled across it. “Wait until the end of this message for the keyword,” it said. The sounds echoed in her mind as she both read and heard them.
“Guardian protectorate number 13477 is hiring three Guardian trainees,” it continued. No one moved. All eyes focused on the viewscreen. There was complete silence.
“You must be a full citizen in good standing without debt and able-bodied between the ages of fourteen and forty-five. Childcare, education, occupational training for you, a full two-thousand calorie daily feed allowance, clothing and accommodations are included with the position as well as an honorary stipend.”
The viewscreen showed a map. “To apply, proceed to grid 115, street 4, entry 7. The keyword is elixtography. Remember, the Republic will care for us.” The screen went dark and the lights came on.
Ailsa grabbed Texa and ran for the door.
“But, Mommy, my sandwich!” yelled Texa. The sandwich hit the floor and was gone under a dozen pair of feet.
Ailsa grabbed Texa’s head, laid it down on her shoulder and pointed the face inwards. She covered Texa’s eyes with one hand and held the other tight under her buttocks.
She pushed and she ran.
There was already a long line at the protectorate. Ailsa grabbed a spot and kept her toes always directly behind the heels of the person in front of her. No one is line-jumping on me.
Ailsa moved to put Texa down.
“No!” Texa screamed. “I want up!”
Please don’t start. Not now. Not when we have this chance. Sure, it’s a slim chance. If you look at it too closely, it’s no chance. But it’s still a chance. And any chance, even no chance, is better than the alternative. She picked Texa back up. “Happy now, little girl?” Please be happy. If we can’t catch this chance, I don’t know what we’ll do.
Texa nodded, her eyes far away.
Ailsa’s heart melted. A doubt entered her mind. She tapped the shoulder of the man in front of her. “Is this the line for the trainee position?”
The man looked back at her, his eyes wide open. “How dare you touch me! How dare you touch me!” He pushed her and she fell back into the people behind her. Several of them fell to the floor like dominoes. Ailsa struggled to get off of them without hurting Texa.
A helmeted Guardian approached them. “You two, out! Now!” He grabbed the man and Ailsa and dragged them towards the narrow front door.
“I only asked him if I was in the right line!” yelled Ailsa. She glimpsed the hard, stubbled face and blank eyes of the Guardian through his helmet. He had a growing double-chin and his abdomen stretched the white fabric of his suit.
“We don’t have time for troublemakers or line-jumpers at this protectorate.” He k
icked the front door open and pushed them out into the night.
Ailsa and the wild-eyed man collided. He kicked her and she fell down the steps, back first. In mid-air, she grabbed tight onto Texa and nestled the girl’s head into her soft chest.
Ailsa’s back hit the sharp concrete steps and she gasped for breath. Texa screamed.
“Stay away from my mommy!” Texa yelled. She got up and walked over to the man. She shook a finger in his face and curled her upper lip. “Don’t you touch her again.”
Ailsa fought her own body as she lowered herself down to the sidewalk just a few feet down from their usual spot. Where they normally sat lay a body covered in dirty white rags next to a mix of tan feces and pale green vomit. A fat, black rat fed on the brew.
“Mommy, are you going to be okay?” Texa asked. The girl fixed her eyes on the viewscreen across the street. They went blank and her face relaxed. “With hope, anything is possible,” she whispered with rising intonation.
“Don’t worry, baby, I will—” She let out a tiny whimper as she stretched her back. “I will be okay.” She turned and smiled at Texa. A stench of graphite and bologna mixed with a deep sewer musk reached her nose. She started to move, then remembered Texa and gave up hope.
Texa giggled. The darkness in her eyes lifted for a moment as her cheeks curved upward.
Ailsa sighed. I can’t blame her for wanting to escape into the screen. But what future is there for a child addicted to it and without any education? She closed her eyes.
A man tapped her on the shoulder. “How about a meal, angel?”
She looked up at him out of the haze of her dream. He looked like a god to her.
“A meal, what meal?” she asked.
“Five clients, five tickets. Come on.” He snatched her hand and pulled her up. He was portly, with short, dark hair that sat tousled above his lined face.
She groaned as her back reorganized itself.
Defiant, She Advanced: Legends of Future Resistance Page 16
