‘What do you think you are doing?’ a harsh voice demanded.
Zinnia turned hastily and stumbled, ‘I….I’m sorry...’
‘Sorry? No one, absolutely no one is allowed to open this door!’ Although the same height as Zinnia, the Altklug appeared tall and imposing in her white shirt and trousers. It was her angry glare that gave her the superior look.
‘I was told...’
‘Come right back in. And if I ever catch you nosing around the Ret Cubicle like a sneaky lamebirl, I’ll have you thrown out!’
Zinnia blinked, shaken. No one had ever spoken to her like that before.
‘I wasn’t being nosy. I was told to take this door...’ she replied slowly.
‘Silence! Stop lying and step away from that door at once.’
Zinnia obeyed and the older woman clicked the door shut.
Without another word, she strode across the hall in the opposite direction. Towards the transparent Demarcator with the white frame, which Zinnia had planned to approach in the first place, if that lamebroy hadn’t misguided her. Why had he played such a dirty trick on her? Obviously he knew that the lamebren weren’t allowed to have anything to do with that exit. Then why had he behaved in such a loathsome manner? She wondered, frowning, as she followed the Supercustodian.
The bureau was spacious and displayed monitors on the walls—monitors which afforded a rotating view of the different sections of the Ret Cubicle and gardens, Zinnia guessed. The Supercustodian approached a touch screen and scrolled down the multi-D list.
‘You are Lamebirl No. 201 from Ret Cabana.’
‘Actually my name is Zinnia,’ the little girl ventured.
Supercustodian did not bother to glance at her. ‘You may call yourself what you please. Your number changes here. You will be Lamebirl G23,’ she said brusquely. ‘This is your identification tag which you must carry with you at all times. This is your padlet, it is your Personal Aide which you may use for your personal data, information and queries. You will share a room with lamebirls G10 and G11 on the first floor. She will explain the rest of the routine to you which includes class and meal timings and daily chores. Some Mudra will be loaded to your padlet, for you to use, to buy your personal stuff, like a stipend. No cash in hand. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Zinnia nodded, accepting the blue-coloured, flip-open padlet with her number embossed on the cover.
‘Do you have any questions?’
‘How long do I have to stay here?’ Zinnia asked.
Supercustodian turned to face her for the first time. Zinnia noticed that she had a mole on her right cheek. Her nose was long and pinched and it made her face appear very stern and angry.
‘As long as is deemed necessary,’ she responded in a clipped tone.
She beeped a number into her mobile unit and a voice responded.
‘Yes Ma’am?’
‘G10, please report and take charge,’ Supercustodian spoke into her unit.
‘Yes Ma’am.’
‘G10 will show you around now and introduce you to your life here. There will be an Introduction Parade sharp at nine tomorrow morning in the hall. Remember, you are not to go near that Exit door again. You are not to interfere with the workings of any Altklug. You are free to move around in the Community charabanc but avoid the Water Veins. If you get a beep on your PA, it means that you are being summoned to my bureau. I have here a list of your likes, dislikes and allergies and the Meal-Keeper will serve the appropriate meals and classes will be organised accordingly. I see that you’ve put music and singing in your hobbies. You will receive training, as per your wishes.’
‘Oh will I?’ Zinnia couldn’t contain her delight. ‘Thank you. I always wake up with a song in my heart and then I don’t know what to do with it. Supercustodian, back at the Ret Cabana, never allowed me to bring it out.’
The older woman stared at her with a hint of distaste in her eyes. ‘Well, now you can, but only during class. I don’t need to emphasise the need for discipline to you, do I G23?’
‘No Ma’am,’ Zinnia murmured.
‘Good. As long you live here, I’d like you to feel at home. Oh, here you are G10. She’s all yours.’
Zinnia turned and looked straight into the curious green eyes of the pretty lamebirl she had met earlier.
3
‘G10? That cannot be a forever name, it’s a number,’ Zinnia insisted.
‘Numbers are names here and you have to be content with that.’ G10 shrugged.
They were sitting in an oblong room with four beds aligned by four windows. The third bed in the corner had been assigned to Zinnia. It looked more like a bench with a fat cushion and a sleek under-head, storage-cum-cupboard space.
‘We had numbers at the Cabana too, but I had a private name for each one of the lamebren. I’m going to come up with a name for you too, soon,’ Zinnia declared.
‘In that case, you’ll have to find names for eleven of us here.’ G10 smiled.
‘Oh, then I will find eleven names!’ Zinnia responded enthusiastically.
‘Eleven of us share four bedrooms between us, lamebirls in two, lamebroys in the others— numbers 10 to 25. Actually, we were thirty but…’ G10 broke off abruptly.
‘But?’
‘They’re gone.’
‘Gone where?’
G10 rose from her bed. Zinnia noticed that her every action was performed with a sort of inherent grace and rhythmic motion, very appealing to the eye.
‘Come, let’s meet the others in the next bedroom. Oh, here come the twins―G11 and B12.’
A lamebirl and a lamebroy strolled into the room. They looked identical in their black attire. With their snipped blondish curls, pink cheeks, blue eyes and crowded teeth, they were a perfect match and they smiled easily at Zinnia.
‘Welcome to the Ret Cubicle, we hope you’ll be happy here,’ they chorused.
‘Thank you,’ Zinnia responded. She took an instant liking to their cute charm.
‘G11 and B12 are twins, as you may have noticed.’ G10 smiled. ‘They are two years older than you. B12 plays the floflute and G11 writes poetry.’
‘Oh, that’s great!’
‘Yes, it certainly is. Although playing the floflute outside the class is forbidden,’ the lamebroy said.
‘And my poetry might never be published in a thermiodical,’ G11 quipped.
‘Why not?’ Zinnia asked.
‘Because poetry is a waste of time in Altklug world and even if it wasn’t, who would want to publish a poem by a lamebirl?’
‘You never know what lies in the future.’
The twins exchanged a look—a quick questioning glance which turned to that of instant comprehension.
‘G10, it’s obvious that she doesn’t really know much. Don’t you think you had better tell her?’ queried the lamebroy.
‘Tell me what?’ Zinnia frowned, her eyes fleeting from one lamebirl to the other.
‘Tell you that none of us has a future,’ a voice cut in rather bluntly.
Zinnia turned to face a cheerful lamebroy with a sweet little dimple in his chin, a pair of black, twinkling eyes and a shock of unruly hair which fell over his forehead and gave him a peppy look. He looked the same age as the twins.
‘Hi! I’m B15.’ He held out a hand which Zinnia shook automatically.
‘Hi! But I don’t understand. Why don’t we have a future?’
‘Look here, it’s too soon to acquaint her with all the details,’ G10 interrupted, hastily. ‘She’s just arrived...’
‘Well then sooner the better. Isn’t time of essence in the Altklug world?’ B15 remarked.
‘That’s what Aerobut, our Exector said to me too.’
‘Exactly.’
A big gong echoed throughout the house making Zinnia jump. It was like the roll of a drum except that it ended with a whistle.
‘Dinner time,’ the twins chorused.
‘We’ll talk later, ok?’ G10 suggested. ‘You’ll get to see
the rest of the lamebren in the Superkitchen.’
She led the way down the escalator and Zinnia found it fascinating. Following a passage they trooped into a long and plain, empty hall with a high ceiling. It was only when G10 pressed a button on the wall that a transparent, metal chair and table detached smoothly and noiselessly from the wall. Zinnia followed her example as did the rest of the lamebren who were divided on either side of the hall.
Zinnia couldn’t help remembering, with a dash of wistfulness, the almost warm Mess at the Ret Cabana. Being just five of them, the forever pleasant Peeta had served them some delicious meals. A sudden ache clamped Zinnia’s heart as she longed to be with her little friends and Peeta….
Now as she settled down, two tall, circular machines, laden with filled plates, appeared at the head of each row.
‘This is the Server. Just look for your number and extract your plate,’ G10 whispered.
Soundlessly, the Servers glided down the hall, halting opposite each lamebirl and lamebroy.
‘But where’s the Cook?’ Zinnia asked.
‘Cook? There’s no cook in the Superkitchen. It is all automated. A person called a Meal-Keeper adds all the ingredients in another room to the Meal-Maker and the machines do the rest. I’ll take you there one day.’
‘No people around? How strange...’
‘This is Altklug world, sweetie. Everything is economised, especially time and Altklug power. And no one would certainly waste time on lamebren like us. We are completely useless to the Altklugs. That they feed and clothe us is a huge favour they are doing us in the first place.’
‘You mean because we are not as clever as them?’
‘Not as clever? That’s an understatement!’ G10 chuckled, tossing her ample hair behind her. ‘We are nowhere close to them—not in knowledge, not in intellect and certainly not in learning.’
‘But why’s that? We all look the same, don’t we?’
‘Little Zinnia, you really are so naïve...’ G10 flashed an almost affectionate look. ‘The Server is approaching. It waits only for thirty seconds, you have to move fast or you’ll go hungry.’
Zinnia nodded, feeling very nervous, as she observed the Server’s steady progress down the row. How could she ever read her number, select her plate and remove it—all in just thirty seconds? She observed G11 as she expertly slid her plate off. The closer the Server came, the more menacing it appeared. Zinnia rubbed her suddenly clammy hands against her dress.
‘Be ready now. Look for the hook. I believe your plate is second-last from the bottom,’ G10 hinted.
The lamebroys sat opposite to the lamebirls and Zinnia noticed the lamebroy who had deliberately misguided her. He smirked at her and Zinnia developed an instantaneous dislike for him. Two seats away from him, sat the cheerful lamebroy B15 who smiled at her encouragingly. On her right, G10 whispered encouragingly and on her left G11nodded at her. They were all so supportive yet quite suddenly Zinnia felt embarrassed—of course she could do it! It was a simple thing, wasn’t it?
The Server appeared before her, and stood still like a sentinel. A big digital clock displayed a countdown, the seconds twinkling down to thirty. Numbers were tagged over each plate and Zinnia leaned forward to search for her number The clock ticked loudly and ominously, in the wordless hall.
‘Second last row,’ G10 repeated urgently.
Zinnia’s eyes found the row. She bent forward and clutched the plate, her hands clammy.
‘Find the groove and just pull it out.’
The clock began counting down to the last ten seconds and she couldn’t take her eyes off the taunting digits.
‘Hurry!’ G10 exclaimed.
With all her strength, Zinnia tugged at the plate and it slid out, but a little too fast. It was laden with food in silver bowls and was heavy. Zinnia stared horrified as it began to slide off from her hand, on to the floor. Just then, as she struggled in vain to straighten the food bowls, a hand shot out and balanced the plate. Startled, Zinnia glanced up and stared at a uniformed Altklug. His face was grim as he gripped the plate skilfully and placed it on her table.
‘Th...Thank you!’ she whispered, mortified.
‘You’ve got to be more careful lamebirl,’ he drawled, shooting her a quick look.
Sudden silence filled the room as the other lamebren stared curiously at Zinnia and the uniformed, imposing figure. Then the Altklug wheeled around and strode out of the Superkitchen.
‘Whew! That was close,’ G10 whispered, as she extracted her plate expertly from the machine.
‘I was very lucky, wasn’t I?’ Zinnia mumbled
‘You were super lucky,’ G11 agreed. Her twin B12 was gazing anxiously at them from across the room.
‘But don’t worry. You’ll learn,’ G10 assured, an encouraging smile on her lips.
‘Who was that man?’ Zinnia couldn’t help asking, after all he had saved her from going hungry on the very first day at the Ret Cubicle.
‘I have no clue, must be some visiting Officer. They keep sending these Officers to keep an eye on us. You better eat up fast. We aren’t allowed to chat while we eat.’
Zinnia nodded and tucked into her meal. She was famished and the food was delicious. What a blunder she had committed! She really had to be more careful in the future.
Thirty minutes later, the empty plates were stacked back into the Server as it made a second round and this time Zinnia was quick and alert. Then the lamebren trooped out of the Superkitchen and into the hall where a big screen was playing a docunote. Some of them settled down in the seats while others stood and now Zinnia could observe them all closely.
A tall hefty lamebirl with a single long braid and a shirt which seemed one size too small, was whispering secretively to a much shorter lamebirl with two plaits. They appeared like thick friends. Next to them sat a tiny lamebirl perched on the edge of the metal seat. A blunt haircut framed her pale, thin, oval-shaped face which carried a rather resigned expression. She appeared so delicate that Zinnia felt she would fall with one poof of the wind! Beside her another lamebirl had fished out a small piece of cloth and had begun stitching something, barely glancing up at the screen. Her hair was confined to a band high on her head swinging jauntily and she had very light eyebrows along with a rather snubbed nose.
On the other end, a tall lamebroy with hollowed cheeks, close-cropped hair and round glasses was impatiently pacing the floor while a stout, plumpish lamebroy with an anxious expression on his cute face, alternately glanced from the tall lamebroy to the docunote. In a corner, sat the lamebroy who had misdirected Zinnia earlier that afternoon, a bored expression on his face and his small eyes glued to the screen evoking the same dislike in Zinnia he held so far. What a bunch of lamebren they were, she thought, all dressed in black demi-legos and demi-sleevers.
‘We are supposed to watch this docunote on the Altklugs every night,’ B15 whispered to her. He and the twins had joined Zinnia. They stood against the wall staring at the screen.
‘Why?’
‘Why? Because the Altklugs have come a long way since they overtook the Singularity, that’s why!’
‘The Singularity?’ Zinnia frowned, confused.
‘It was an era when machines had taken total control of the world and ruled humans for years. The humans had rebelled and revolted and that is how the Altklugs were born.’
‘But...’
‘This docunote is to remind the lamebren of the greatness of the Altklugs. And mainly because they don’t want us to forget that we live in their world.’
‘Their world? It’s our world too!’ Zinnia exclaimed.
G10 and the twins glanced at each other. B15 shook his head sympathetically, a lock of hair bouncing on his forehead.
‘If it were your world, you wouldn’t be at the Ret Cubicle. You would be planning your retirement by now.’
‘What?’
B15 patiently turned towards her. ‘Okay, do answer some of these rather simple questions, will you?’ He seemed to
be rather enjoying Zinnia’s confusion. ‘Could you speak the seven major languages of the Super-Dome when you were born? And did the languages grow in number as you grew older? Did you begin your education, to equip yourself for life that is, when you were a year old?’
Soon G11 picked up the trail, ‘In your third year, did you graduate and know all the sciences, and could you write K. Sensor programmes? At four, did you take up a job, make any notable discoveries? Like say Emotion-mapping or Pain-tolerance—whatever that means? Also, did you move out of your parents’ house to set up your own house?’ G11 stared at Zinnia keenly, her hair an array of curls.
‘And at five, did you join the government or some private office and work in earnest? Around the same time, did you marry an Altklug matched for you by the K.Sensor and at six did you have your own kids...’ B12 piped in, looking exactly like his twin, with his blonde curls and blue eyes.
‘Married at the age of six? Do stop!’ Zinnia cut in, confused.
‘Well, you see, even listening to all this can blow your mind,’ B15 said smugly, the dimple in his chin showing. A devilish glint in his black eyes almost gave him a rakish look.
‘You mean the Altklugs...’
‘The Altklugs do all this and more,’ G10 supplied quietly.
‘But how?’
‘They are different. They are born with super knowledge. They are so clever that it is frightening. You see, their every year is biologically equivalent to our 6.25 years! It is only around thirteen years of age, that their old age really catches on. Very few live beyond the age of fifteen and only a rare handful live to be sixteen,’ G11 added.
Revolt of the Lamebren: Book 1 of the Super-Dome Chronicles Page 3
