Revolt of the Lamebren: Book 1 of the Super-Dome Chronicles

by Manjiri Prabhu

  And then they were gone. That was their last visit. Zinnia hadn’t seen them ever since. And she missed them sorely. There was so much she wanted to ask them. A new question surfaced every other minute in her mind and she longed for answers. Questions already filled her mind like a mug brimming with water. And still they kept coming.

  As she thrust her clothes into the bag, she wondered about her parents. Would they find out where she was being taken? Would they come visit her there? She already felt so lonely and discarded.

  ‘We are all so scared. We don’t understand why we stay in this Cabana, where no one ever visits us. I want my mommy...’ No. 204 said, her face puckered in tearful ball.

  ‘There’s nothing to be frightened about, Lily. No one has ever hurt us here, have they? We have such delicious meals and plenty to keep us busy. So what if we are under constant surveillance and have limits on our movements? There must be a reason for it. Perhaps they are taking me some place where they’ll explain to me what’s really happening,’ Zinnia said, trying to act more mature than her ten years of age. She tried to coat the obvious feeling of wretchedness with forced cheer but deep inside, despite her confident assurance, she just wasn’t sure.

  ‘But you four take care of yourselves, ok? Don’t dilly-dally in the mornings. Eat well and go to bed early.’

  ‘Please don’t go,’ Juju’s voice was a whisper.

  Zinnia moved forward and hugged each one of them, suddenly feeling miserable. She was the eldest among them and had slipped into the role of an elder sister with ease. She helped them dress up in the mornings, ensured that they had their meals and even sang to them softly every night till they fell asleep. Now all of sudden she would be separated from the little ones. How would they all cope without her? How would she cope without them? If she only knew where she was being sent, parting would’ve been much easier.

  ‘I’ll come back, Juju,’ she said with sudden conviction. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll meet again. Just keep together and don’t fight. You’ve got to look out for each other, okay? Here, keep my little toy doggie, that way I shall always be with you. And I’ll meet you real soon.’

  ‘Promise?’ they chorused.

  ‘Promise!’

  She slung her bag over her shoulder and threw a quick last look at the room. Then, she hastened towards the Mess. She couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to Peeta. Zinnia found her feeding vegetables to the Meal-Maker affixed to the wall. At first glance, Peeta didn’t look much older than the lamebirl. But close observation revealed fine age lines and a slight hollowing of the eye sockets. But it was more her actions, slow and a little fatigued that gave away the fact that she had been around for a long time. She flashed young Zinnia an absent look, as she entered the kitchen.

  ‘What is it?’ Peeta asked briskly. ‘And what’s in the bag?’

  ‘I’ve come to say goodbye,’ Zinnia said, in a small voice.

  Peeta halted mid-action and turned to her sharply.

  ‘Goodbye?’

  ‘I’m leaving...’

  ‘What? You mean...’ Peeta’s expressions changed from realisation to alarm.

  ‘I have no clue why, but I’m leaving.’

  ‘Already?’ her voice came in a frightened whisper. She clutched Zinnia’s arm. ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Ten years and two months. Why?’

  Peeta still looked shocked. But she turned away from Zinnia, avoiding her gaze.

  ‘Nothing,’ she mumbled.

  Zinnia moved closer to the older woman, who like the rest of the Altklugs was just a little taller than her, but larger in breadth.

  ‘What is it, Peeta? Where are they taking me?’

  Peeta glanced at her full in the face, noticing the lamebirl’s wavy long hair, beautiful brown eyes, heart-shaped face and the dimple in her cheek.

  ‘You are a pretty-looking lamebirl, my dear, like a little flower. Pretty and spirited―you always give me the impression of someone...different...’

  ‘Peeta you’ve told me that a thousand times before and you are the one who gave me the name Zinnia!’

  ‘Did I?’ Peeta looked vague. ‘My memory must be failing me. I’m getting older by the day.’

  ‘But you’re only fourteen! How can you be old?’ Zinnia looked perplexed.

  ‘Fourteen is very old. I’ll be fifteen next year and then I don’t know...’ Peeta’s voice trailed.

  ‘Where are they taking me, Peeta?’ Zinnia persisted.

  ‘To a bigger place, I guess, where you’ll meet more of your kind.’

  ‘But I’m happy here. Why do I have to go?’

  ‘Because you are old enough.’

  ‘Old enough? But you are still here.’

  ‘That’s different. I’m different and...and...you have to go. It’s the rule.’

  ‘What rule?’

  ‘You ask too many questions for a lamebirl. Ask Supercustodian, she’ll tell you.’

  ‘She’s never told me a thing before. You know how she is, barely talks...’

  ‘Lamebirl No. 201. You have thirty minutes to report in the hall,’ a voice announced in the air.

  Peeta turned to her and hugged her warmly. Sudden tears pranced in her eyes.

  ‘Listen, be a good lamebirl now. Don’t do anything to provoke the Altklugs. If you are good, you’ll be safe, at least...I mean...’ she faltered, not knowing how to proceed.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You will. And one more thing, we may not meet again…’

  ‘Why?’ Zinnia cried.

  ‘We may not, but I want you to know that I’ve always loved you like my daughter. Take care of yourself, okay?’ The older woman brushed her tears and pushed the lamebirl away. ‘Now go!’

  Zinnia walked to the door, her heart heavy. She turned to look at Peeta one last time. She was standing by the Meal-Maker, staring at it absently, her round pleasant face set in vague misery. On an impulse, Zinnia raced back and flung her arms around Peeta’s thick waist, with tears in her eyes.

  ‘Don’t be sad Peeta. I’ll return, I promise.’

  Peeta wrapped her in a tight embrace, a faint smile on her lips as she nodded. ‘Of course you will! Now go, dear. Goodbye and good luck!’

  Zinnia clutched her bag and walked slowly to the hall, confusion and worry gnawing at her. She placed her bag by the door. There was one more thing she had to do before she left. She had to go to the Rose Lane.

  It was a beautiful evening and the birds were in the blue sky, against the fluffy, caricatured clouds. The snow had melted giving way to a glowing green lawn. Zinnia had once wandered into this lane which was the prettiest she had ever seen. And since then she had spent time here regularly. It was one of the places that were in her permitted radius and she loved the lane.

  At least ten different varieties of roses in multi-layered beds aligned and ascended like a wall along the road which winded into some skilfully crafted trees. The pond where it ended had bobbing petals with the most divine colours and it all emanated a feeling of headiness. The ruby colour of the roses burst into her vision as if she had plunged into a swirling, sparkling globe of red. The strong and sweet fragrance, the identical shapes of the flowers and the synchronisation of colours, was a treat to the eyes. Light music pervaded the air along the entire lane, the volume just right enough to tickle and soothe the senses and inspire a feeling of love. She had instantly known that this lane was different. It was more her kind—more natural. And different from the world of Altklugs which frightened her with its synthetic symmetry and challenged her sense of disorderliness. But here she felt at home.

  Now as she walked down the pretty, curving road, a deep sadness filled her heart. She strolled through the trees, which whispered sweet murmurings, enveloping her in a cocoon of love and a sense of belonging. She had almost reached the end of the path and was about to step out into the open near the pond when a giggle halted her progress. Peering through the low branches, a startling sight caught her eyes. The two Altklug
s were much shorter than her. But they were clinging to each other with their lips glued! She stared, stunned and aghast. Conflicting emotions stung her. Something was wrong, drastically wrong. She felt ashamed and embarrassed watching them touching each other—ashamed because she instinctively sensed that she shouldn’t and couldn’t do it, not now, not in this age. And these kids, much younger than her, were so comfortable in their actions. Then a thought smouldered into her mind, creating a crevice—they weren’t children, she was…. They weren’t queer, she was.

  Zinnia whipped around and raced back to the Ret Cabana, her heart pumping with distress. She flopped down on the lawn, shutting her eyes to the image that forced itself through her closed eyelids. Slowly, the feeling of agitation receded though the certainty had lodged in her heart forever. She was queer. She was not at all like the Altklugs that she met or saw in the streets. She was more like the four lamebren she lived with, in the Ret Cabana.

  And that is when it all became icily clear. The biggest crime in the Super-Dome of Altklugs was not to be a thief or a fraud. It was to be born a ‘lamebirl’ or a ‘lamebroy’. With a sudden shudder down her spine, she realised, that she had committed that grave crime, and was about to be punished for it.

  2

  It was the first time that Zinnia had ventured into the real Altklug world. Her amazement completely immobilised the natural workings of her curious mind. All thoughts escaped and all expressions of astonishment felt inadequate. Only an immense wave of awe topped her feelings, and she simply stared.

  She was alone in the backseat of the spinner, which flew, as it left the Ret Cabana lane and joined the main, disciplined traffic. It was as if Zinnia was sucked into the Altklug world of speed and chaotic order. Dazzling flyovers, aptly called as Skyways, criss-crossed overhead, intersecting at points creating an endless maze in the sky—a riot of colours, designs and competitive technology—leaving the ground free for the flourishing gardens, water bodies, playgrounds and houses.

  Occasionally, large signboards which seemed to float from nowhere, flashed the weather report, rattler and flight timings, and the current news. Governor Tisya’s short, sleek bob seemed to pop-up at every intersection on wide screens, as she announced her new retirement plan for Altklugs. Another advertisement declared how ‘small was profound’ and displayed a nail-sized Digi-eye for long-term storage of memories. Another shrill voice advertised and advocated the come-back of Robots. One line particularly caught Zinnia’s eye, Preceptor Amadeus’s Theory of Age Progression. To know more, contact Preceptor Amadeus. The bald face of a youngster smiled back at her from the multi-hoardings and Zinnia stared at him, fascinated.

  She stuck her face to the window and watched the traffic glide by, a few inches above the skywalks. It was only when the fluorescent traffic signals embedded in them turned a hue of red that the magnetic strips of the spinners touched the tracks. After a few moments of observation, her fascination was replaced by a sense of giddiness and she reclined against the plush synthetic seat. It was a large world out there—huge, inspiring and inextricably entwined with technical brilliance. For little Zinnia, it was entirely another Super-Dome.

  She longed to ask the driver where they were headed. But he was a Humanoid with an expressionless, robot-like face and looked so austere, that she dropped the idea. The Supercustodian had led her to the spinner, placed her bag beside her and wished her ‘good luck’ in a stiff, unnatural voice. Then before the spinner could take off, she had turned and vanished inside the Ret Cabana. Four faces peered anxiously from the window above and Zinnia waved to them. Poor little lamebren, she thought. She barely had time to wish a mental goodbye to her home, when the spinner had whisked forward, swallowing miles within seconds and pushing the Ret Cabana into her past.

  Zinnia closed her eyes; trying to control her agitated state of mind, feeling increasingly frustrated and frightened. All through the years at the Ret Cabana, ever since she could remember, she had felt lonely. She and the four other lamebren were always an outcast, and the Altklugs had never bothered to communicate at a normal level and behaved as if they knew and understood nothing. There were so many things she couldn’t understand—why people like Supercustodian, Peeta and their Exector Aerobut, just a few years older than her, seemed as if they were much, much older? Why was Aerobut so exceptionally clever and knowledgeable at just a little older age than her? Why did they appear cold and unaffected by anything they saw? Zinnia experienced frequent urges to laugh and cry. She needed the time to be with things—flowers, trees, the rainfall every afternoon during the Rain Hour and the snowflakes in the late evening during the Snow Hour—feel it all with her hands and in her heart, and wonder at it and touch it. . . but her actions were regarded by the impatient Supercustodian as stupid and she had been warned on several occasions to 'behave'. But she had never felt stupid or felt the need to change her behaviour.

  These and many more questions had racked Zinnia’s brain for months. It worried her that she didn’t know the answers and now, on top of it, she was being sent away. No one had asked her if she wanted to leave. For the first time, Zinnia realised, with a striking certainty, that she had no say at all. Was she a captive? But then, she was allowed to go wherever she pleased, within limits of course, and then no one really interfered in her decisions. Except for the meal, class and bed timings, she and the other lamebren had complete freedom. But, if she wasn’t a prisoner, then why did she not have the freedom to choose where she wanted to live? Why did she not live with her parents?

  ‘The Fountain of Life,’ a voice very similar to that at the Ret Cabana floated in the spinner and Zinnia almost jumped. The spinner had left the skywalks and slowed down as it passed a flashing sign: The Fountain of Life, Northern Quarter. Colourful jets of water in the shape of the alphabet L, streamed in the midst of a Square. The central jet rose so high that Zinnia could only imagine the top. The entire image was vibrant, grand and elegant and she stared in fascination.

  ‘Arriving at Northern Quarter Ret Cubicle. Please get ready to disembark,’ the voice ordered again. The spinner entered a broad lane, lined with tall trees. The tree-tops were perfectly carved into geometrical shapes and even the branches seemed to be tamed into identical margins. Zinnia gazed in trepidation at the long stretch of road, at the end of which rose a towering white stone building. More trees surrounded the structure, receding into a shady background like a well-drawn sketch. The spinner circled another miniature fountain which sprouted out of a glass image of what looked like a pen. Zinnia recognised it from the K. Sensor-pic Aerobut had shown them once of these writing instruments which were non-existent now. The spinner slid to a halt before the wide-open glass doors of the Cubicle and the doors of the spinner clicked open automatically.

  Zinnia clutched her bag and stepped outside hesitantly. She was barely out when the spinner glided away noiselessly. Uncertain, she stood waiting beside a large Lumino sign which read ‘Northern Quarter Ret Cubicle’. The sign swayed in the cool, light breeze and the mild evening glow reflected on the glass door. A large gong resonated through the grounds of the Ret Cubicle and it startled her. A murmur of voices grew louder as a number of lamebren trooped through the entrance, chatting in low voices. They were all attired in black demi-legos and demi-sleevers. They passed her without even affording her a fleeting glance, almost as if she was invisible. Only the last girl in the group halted and stared at Zinnia curiously.

  ‘Have you arrived from the Ret Cabana?’ she asked in a soft voice.

  Zinnia simply stared at the exceedingly pretty tall girl with light green eyes, long lashes, the perfect heart-shaped face and beautiful waist-length brown tresses which were confined to a silver band. She was sporting a lovely green brooch on her black demi-sleever. Zinnia instantly liked the cheerful smile on her face.

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded at length.

  ‘Then you should go straight in, turn right and you’ll find the Supercustodian’s bureau. And don’t worry, she’s not as frightening
as she appears. Bye, see you later!’ With a merry wave, the girl ran after the group of lamebren, who were now heading towards the Cubicle gardens.

  Hesitantly, Zinnia stepped into the cool interiors of the mirror-lined hall. For a moment, she studied her reflection—wavy, permanently wind-blown, bleached-brown hair and brown eyes set in an oval face. Pitted against the lamebirl she had just met, Zinnia felt that she looked like a scrappy sidekick. Her only favourite feature, the dimple in her right cheek, which appeared and disappeared when she spoke or smiled, also faded into insignificance against this lamebirl’s exquisite beauty. Zinnia grinned and made a face at her image in the mirror.

  She turned right and was heading in the direction of the Supercustodian’s bureau when a boy’s voice hailed her, ‘Not that way. Those are the Wash Receptacles.’

  Zinnia stopped and turned to look at the thin lamebroy with a smirk on his smudged face. His eyes were tiny and his lips were thin and pursed.

  ‘Take that door.’ He indicated a door to the far end of the hall.

  ‘Thanks,’ she murmured.

  ‘You’re welcome!’ He skipped away.

  Zinnia headed to the shiny, black metal door and touched the button. The door glided open noiselessly to reveal ten steps. She crossed the threshold and gasped in shock. She had stepped out into the open and was face-to-face with a long, transparent wall which seemed to crawl indefinitely out of sight. But it wasn’t the wall which startled Zinnia. It was what lay beyond. On the other side of the long wall, dense, huge trees entangled, wrestling for space, as if in a battle. The low hanging bushes and the dark, creepy feeling which seemed to splatter beyond the transparent border was frightening. It was like a huge black cave of ferocious wasteland opening before her. Or as if the wall was bravely trying to stop the wilderness from swallowing the Ret Cubicle.