by Ann Bakshis
Looper
A Novel by Ann Bakshis
Copyright © 2016 by Ann Bakshis
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living and dead, actual event, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Published by Ponahakeola Press, 2016
For Aunt Jeanne, who always encouraged me to keep writing.
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
One
Working in the grove is the only time I get to be outdoors. I’ve never been past the high concrete walls that encompass the property. I don’t even remember what the front door of the main house looks like. It’s been years since I saw it. Leaving the orphanage is highly restricted by the government. There are only two ways of leaving: when you turn twenty-one and are allowed to reenter society, or what there is of it, which is by permit only, or in a body bag. That’s happened here too many times for me to keep count. There are a few who try to escape, finding weathered holes in the wall, but they only get so far before they’re shot from someone patrolling the outside. I’ve only met one person from the outside, but that’s only when he brings in work. The only other people we see are the staff, many too old to still be alive, or too mean to reside with the regular population. The Head Master doesn’t even pay us a visit. The only time you see him is when there’s a new arrival, but no one new has shown up in the last several years.
The temperatures have been steadily falling each day as winter approaches, but that doesn’t stop the heads from making us work outside. The crops have stopped growing, but there’s more in the grove than just vegetables. Our job for the week is to work on the carriages that run along the cable line through the city. Maintenance workers enter at the back of the grove, dragging in the rusty, derelict cars, and placing them under the pavilion off to the left of the entrance. We’re tasked with scraping the rust, sealing holes, and repainting the cars black. The government is too stingy to buy new carriages, or even upgrade the ones they do have. We’re taught at an early age that surplus is bad, everything has a purpose no matter how old or trivial, and ornamentation and frivolity is only for the well-deserved. Those of us who live in the Outer Limits are subjected to these rules and regulations on a daily basis. If it’s repairable, fix it. If it’s too damaged, destroy it. No wants, no desires, and no dreams are the daily opinions fed to us.
My hands freeze as I wait by the back door for the workmen to bring in our workload for the day. The wool hat on my head is too small and my gloves have no fingertips. My clothes are thin, like me, full of holes that I don’t have time to repair, and dingy. We’re allowed to wash our clothing, and ourselves, once a month. Each person is assigned a specific day. Mine is tomorrow, but I’ll probably be stuck working and not get a chance to clean up. At the moment, I’m the only one outside, which is typical. I’m the first one out and the last one in. I’d sleep in the grove if they let me. I hate being stuck in that large house with so many people. I share a room with four people, or at least I used to. Now it’s just Brink and me. The others were moved to second-level housing when they turned twenty-one. We all came here when we were young, some as little as a few weeks old. I’ve been in the orphanage since I was three. I’m told my parents were killed in an industrial accident down at a smelting plant across town. That was sixteen years ago. I have no memory of them, which is probably beneficial since I don’t have any attachment to the life I may have once had.
Lil comes bounding down the dirt path from the house. She’s always a little too happy for my taste. I try and avoid her when I can, but it’s hard when she practically stalks me on a daily basis. Why she likes me, I don’t know. Her blonde hair is cut short, well hidden under her hat. She never misses her day to do laundry and to shower. I’ve missed three in the last four months.
“Vernon isn’t here yet?” she asks, jumping to a stop next to me.
“He’s late as usual,” I respond sharply.
“Brink’s been looking for you since breakfast.”
Great. What does he want now?
Brink and I share a room together, but I know he wants to share a bed. I’ve been avoiding him the last several weeks as much as possible now that it’s just the two of us. I’ve been hiding in the grove since early morning. I try and eat breakfast before everyone else gets up. The cook, Tilda, allows me to slip in and grab what I want. She is the only nice person on the staff, at least to me anyway. She can be rough and grouchy with the others, but somehow I’ve managed to get on her good side. Not sure how I did it, but I try to do everything I can to keep it.
The double doors covering the back entrance squeak open as Vernon begins pushing a carriage through. Lil takes one side, and I take the other, trying to keep them open. The doors are dead weight. Thick wood secured poorly by rusted bolts inside crumbling bricks. It’s amazing these doors have lasted as long as they have.
“I have two more that need repairing,” Vernon hisses. He’s missing several teeth, so it always sounds like air escaping when he speaks.
The carriages are hanging from a cable that stops under the pavilion. Normally they’re electrified by the cable, but once they’re taken off the main circuit, such as the line in the alley behind the orphanage, you have to manually push them. They’re bulky, awkward, and sharp. I pull the one Vernon is pushing, taking it from him so he can move the other two inside. I lock it down at the far end of the pavilion, Lil locks hers next to mine, with Vernon bringing up the rear.
“When do you need these by?” I ask, as I know the government won’t want them idle long.
“Three days,” Vernon replies, wiping his hands on a cloth he keeps tucked into the pocket of his filthy overalls.
“That shouldn’t be too bad,” Lil says. “If we can get the others to help.”
I stifle a laugh since I know that’ll never happen. Since the Head Master hasn’t been around, many of the others have gotten used to doing nothing. Most of them spend their time lounging around the common room watching television, or tormenting the staff. We did have a governess once, but she vanished one night. No one knows if she left voluntarily or not. Citizens do have a habit of disappearing during the night. It’s never spoken about. If someone is gone the following morning, everyone has to act as if they never existed to begin with. Those occurrences have become more legend now than fact, but the others like to speculate on who will be next.
I turn to Lil and ask her for the scraper as Vernon leaves, locking the gate behind him. The car in front of me is almost rusted through in the floor. I spend most of the morning scraping away the rust, trying to get to the clean metal below before I begin making repairs. I break for a small lunch that Brink brings down to us.
“I was wondering if you were out here,” he says, handing me a sandwich and thermos.
“Someone has to get these fixed,” I say, snatching my fo
od before he can pull it away like he usually does. “I don’t want any Aedox raiding us. Going through their torture once is enough.”
Brink smirks and retreats to the house.
The Aedox are the security forces of our ruling city, Tarsus. They closely monitor everyone in the Outer Limits, and if we’re not performing up to their high standards we’re put through a series of punishments. The easiest being locked in a room without any windows for hours, to the harshest, being burned. I, thankfully, haven’t had the worst chastisement, but I haven’t had only the easiest either. It took a couple of times for me to learn that I was not in control of my life, and my body bears the scars for that.
After I finish eating, I remove the badly damaged floor from the carriage and solder a new one in place. It takes me all afternoon to buff out the rough metal. It’s dark when I start spray painting. Lil barely made a dent on the one she was fixing, which means an early day for me tomorrow. My hands are covered in black paint when I finally stop for the night. I’ve missed dinner, but Tilda has a plate for me in the kitchen. She and I eat together. She could eat with the other staff, but she’s as much of a fan of them as we are.
“It’s your day tomorrow,” she says to me, after sipping her coffee.
“I know, but with all the work out there to do, that isn’t going to happen.”
“Max, you have to take some time for yourself. Your clothes are so dirty they can walk themselves out the door.”
We both laugh. I know she’s right, but with two more cars to be repaired and no one doing a damn thing except me, time for myself doesn’t exist. Not even for one day.
Tilda finishes her soup, then leans over to me. “Before you go to bed, leave your clothes in the basket at the top of the stairs. I’ll wash them for you.”
“You’ll get in trouble if you do that.”
“By who, Head Master Edom? He hasn’t been here in ages.”
I thank her by helping with the dishes. I head upstairs and gather my clothes, changing into a black tank top and shorts to sleep in. I don’t have to worry about Brink walking in on me as he’s too busy downstairs staring at the television like everyone else. The one respite we’re given is hourly entertainment from Tarsus. We don’t have the option of watching it every hour, but it is constantly running. The one problem is it’s the only show on. It doesn’t repeat, it just continuously runs non-stop. “The Litarian Battles” is the only thing ever on, and people just can’t stop watching it. Young men and women competing against each other in simulated battle, all for the chance of living in the utopian city of Icarian. No one knows where it’s located, or even if it actually exists. The government only allows those who prove themselves worthy in The Litarian Battles to go there.
During the “Selection”, all current contestants wear the most ridiculous clothes. For the women, bright colored skirts over patterned leggings, crop tops with short sleeves in various colors or thin fuzzy sweaters, and all with glitter coated hair in non-natural colors. The men wear brightly colored pants, white shirts, and flashy vests. During the actual game itself, the outfits are uniform, all the same design.
I’ve never been interested in watching. Brink can’t get enough of it, which is fine with me because it keeps him out of our room. Lil is indifferent like I am, but she does view it every so often.
I drag my clothes out of the room, dumping them into the basket by the stairs. A few minutes later, Tilda comes and picks them up. The shower will have to wait though. We’re permitted to do a slight, short bath, but no full washing until our day. Since the lone communal bathroom is empty, I take the opportunity to scrub my hands and fingers, working the paint off. I wash my face, getting behind my ears, and brush my teeth. I wish I could wash my hair. It’s getting tangled from lack of care. I’ve managed to get it grown out to my mid-back, and if I had to cut it off I would be more than angry. It’s the only one true possession of mine. Vanity is not tolerated in the Outer Limits, but no one else here has long, straight, raven-black hair and my blue eyes.
When I’m back in my room, I lay on my bed and stare up at the dingy gray ceiling, its plaster peeling in chunks. It’s too early to go to sleep, but there isn’t anything else to do. I turn the lights off with the switch by my bed. My eyes are barely closed when the door flies open and the lights flash back on.
“Maxy, you missed it,” Brink says, storming into the room.
“I keep telling you to stop calling me that.” I pick up my pillow and drop it over my head, blocking him, and the light, out.
He pulls the pillow off and practically jumps into the bed. “They’re going to pick two people from the Outer Limits to compete in The Litarian Battles.”
I start shoving him off, but he’s a lot stronger than I am, so I don’t move him at all. “Why would I care? It’s a stupid show.”
He pulls the covers over himself, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I hope it’s me.”
“So do I, since I’d love to have a room to myself.” I jab him in the ribs with my elbow, but it doesn’t do any good. “When is this supposed to happen?”
“Tomorrow, early afternoon.”
Great, I will be the only one working tomorrow.
He starts caressing my arm. I hit him in the stomach, which causes him to stop, but only for a few seconds. “Come on, Maxy, if I’m chosen you may never see me again.”
“That works for me.” I take my heel and kick backwards, getting him in the crotch.
He lets go and rolls onto the floor moaning. I turn the lights off, but I don’t close my eyes. This has become almost a nightly ritual between the two of us. He’s never going to learn that I’m not interested, but unfortunately there aren’t any open beds other than the two in our room. I’ll be glad when he turns twenty-one in a few months, then he’ll be given a permit to move into second-level housing. I have two years to wait before I get mine.
I’m up before the sun is. Tilda has breakfast waiting for me in the kitchen along with my clothes freshly laundered. I eat quickly, wanting to get a jump on the work since I’ll be the only one out there. I put on my winter coat, hat, and gloves while Tilda cleans my dishes. She moves breakfast to the dining hall for everyone else as I go out the backdoor. I check the carriage I worked on yesterday, making sure the new floor adhered properly. I have to finish painting it before moving on to the next one. I find a couple of more rust spots that need treating by the cable attachment, but those are easily handled within a half-hour. The second car needs minor repairs, mainly the gears that need to be oiled. I paint over the spots that Lil scraped yesterday. I decide to wait until after lunch to work on the third carriage.
My hands are frozen by the time I walk into the kitchen, but Tilda isn’t there. I exit into the large foyer and cross over to the common room. Everyone is surrounded around the large display hanging from the far wall. Even the staff, which is unusual. I find Tilda huddled in a corner, squeezed between two other staff members.
“Why is everyone in here?” I ask quietly when I reach her.
“Their choosing the new contestants,” she whispers back.
Why does this matter to everyone? It’s just a stupid show. Nothing but a game.
I’ve only viewed a few minutes of it. I can’t see what the appeal is watching others fight each other in simulated battle. No one dies, or gets hurt, they only rack up points, which doesn’t mean anything. Normally the contestants are volunteers from the city of Tarsus. Young adults between the ages of twenty and twenty-five. I don’t ever remember a time when someone from the Outer Limits was allowed to participate. The Litarian Battles has only been around for a little over five years, but it’s been so ingrained into our daily lives that it seems like it’s always been on.
“I hope everyone is excited about this as I am,” the announcer says through speakers over my head. I can’t see the display itself, so I have no idea what the man looks like, or even how the process is being handled. “The two new contestants from the Outer Limits are Lil Jasper
and Drake Kelly.”
The front of the room erupts in joy for Lil. I retreat back to the kitchen with Tilda and help her prepare lunch. She won’t let me near the food until I shower. I roll my eyes and head up to the communal bathroom. In order to access the shower stall, we’re all given a code to enter into the keypad by the glass door. The code only works on the day you have permission to use the stall. A freshly cleaned towel hangs on the other side of the door, along with a small bottle of soap. I close the door, making sure it locks, take off my clothes, and step into the hot water. The shower is timed, so the clock above the spigot begins to count down from ten minutes. I wash quickly, since I want to enjoy just standing under the clean water.
“Max, you in here?” Lil calls out.
“Yes.”
I can’t see her, but I know she’s probably jumping towards the stall. “Did you hear? I got chosen to be in The Litarian Battles.”
“Good for you,” I say, trying to sound sincere. “How soon do you have to be in Tarsus?”
“They’re sending a couple of Aedox over in the next hour. I have to go pack, but I wanted to say goodbye to you while I could.”
“Good luck. I hope you do well.”
“Thanks.”
The main door closes behind her as I decide to do another quick wash. The timer runs out just as I finish. I wrap myself up in the towel, pick up my dirty clothes, and go back to my room. Tilda placed the basket on my bed, so while I’m looking for something to put on, I’m also putting them away in the small dresser at the foot of my bed. Lunch is ready when I get back downstairs, but I still eat in the kitchen with Tilda.
I spend the rest of my day rebuilding the third carriage. I’ve created a metal shop behind the pavilion where I keep scraps, cutting machinery, and all my tools. No one else goes back there, so I doubt anyone has noticed it’s there. If I need more supplies, I usually let Vernon know on the days he comes by to drop off work. I have just enough material to get the third carriage operational, but I’ll need more paint and metal sheets if I have to make any other major repairs. I cleanup my mess, trying to get everything sorted for Vernon when he comes to pick up the cars tomorrow. I know he told me I have three days, but the government counts them as the day you get the workload as day one, and the day it’s due as day three.
