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

by Manjiri Prabhu

  Zinnia gaped, stunned and trying to recalibrate her thoughts with the new knowledge. So, Peeta really was old... ‘But they don’t look old,’ she frowned. ‘I mean their faces are so brilliant, so shiny…almost alike.’

  ‘At first sight, it does seem so. But if you look closely, you’ll notice that some of them appear really tired and haggard. I guess, the outer body changes aren’t drastic. Their emotions too are structured and measured. The way we talk, laugh and cry, they don’t. For them tears and laughter do exist but in short measures. There simply isn't time to waste, because, according to them, there really is no need for more time,’ B15 said, thrusting a hand through his untidy shock of hair.

  ‘Have you ever seen any of the Altklugs falling ill, the way we do? No, because they never do. Everything in the Altklug world is hassle-free, systematic and disease-free. That is because everything—the trees, the rain, the snow, the landscapes, the weather—is created or engineered as per their technical data. Everything is deliberate, adult and controlled. And since they are so advanced, it is but natural that they consider us lamebrains. That is why we are lamebren girls, “lamebirls” and my twin and B15 here are lamebren boys, “lamebroys”,’ G11 completed.

  ‘Wow!’ was all Zinnia could say. ‘You know a lot about them.’

  The others looked at each other.

  ‘We’ve been doing some...research,’ G10 admitted.

  ‘And that is how we learned that this world is theirs not ours,’ B15 concluded.

  They fell silent momentarily. All the questions fastened tightly in Zinnia’s head seemed to be suddenly released, springing in different directions with fresh fervour. The confusion began dissolving, as awe and understanding crept in.

  ‘So that is why we are here,’ she whispered. ‘That is why everyone is impatient with us and treats us like...like...we don’t matter.’

  G10 nodded. Her head was bent, as she traced an invisible line on the floor with her foot. The green brooch on her demi-sleever shone incongruously and daringly against the black.

  ‘Oh, but we do matter. For us!’ Zinnia exclaimed.

  The others looked at her curiously.

  ‘As if that’s going to make any difference to them.’ B15 scoffed.

  ‘It doesn’t matter whether it makes any difference to them. What matters is that for us we are important. We belong here too!’

  ‘You don’t know the whole story yet,’ G10 said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Zinnia persisted.

  ‘Why don’t you tell her about the Secret...’ B15 began.

  ‘Shh...not here,’ G10 interrupted sharply.

  The docunote ended just then and the Presenter, a smart-looking Altklug, signed off, promising to meet in Part 2 of the show. A hush fell, as feet shuffled. The lamebren rose and began trooping upstairs, apparently subdued by the overwhelming contents of the programme and their own thoughts.

  ‘Bedtime,’ the twins whispered.

  Zinnia followed the lamebren and the Escalators carried them upstairs. What did G10 mean? They were such a combination of contradictions—helpless and frustrated one moment and so secretive the next.

  The exact minute they were in their room, a voice echoed through the Cubicle.

  ‘Ten minutes till bedtime. Lights out at nine!’

  Zinnia opened her mouth to speak, but G10 placed a finger on her lips, signalling her to be quiet. Zinnia quickly changed into a night dress, feeling too wide awake to sleep. She was sharing the room with G10 and G11. The fourth bed was empty.

  Back at the Ret Cabana, they were allowed to watch TV till late and since they were only five of them they could chat too. She already missed her companions from the Cabana. Not that these lamebren weren’t interesting. They were quite smart and knowledgeable, and Zinnia was glad to have made some friends. Most importantly, they had answers for her hungry mind. The haze that had always surrounded her clouded thoughts, was gradually clearing up.

  Sharp at nine, the central lights were extinguished. G10 switched on a small side lamp embedded in the metal frame of the bed. She was dressed in a short, flowery gown which came up to her bare knees.

  ‘Gather around my bed. Pull those chairs lamebirls. We can talk now, provided you keep your voices low,’ she whispered.

  There was a knock on the door and B15 slipped in with B12. Zinnia watched bewildered as two more lamebroys accompanied them—the tall, thin lamebroy with glasses and the other shorter, plumper one with those puffed-out cheeks.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Zinnia asked the twins who looked identical in their geometrically designed pajamas.

  ‘We’re having a meeting,’ B12 replied.

  ‘Of “The Secret Society”,’ her twin completed.

  Zinnia gasped. The Secret Society! Even the thought was exciting. She watched as they all settled round the bed, with G10 in the centre.

  ‘Where are the others?’ G10 asked.

  B15 shook his head. With his untidy crop of hair, he looked as if he had just stepped out of a sports field.

  ‘Not interested. You know how G16 and G17 are. They don’t do anything without each other. If one decides not to go, the other follows. And the rest are already in bed.’

  ‘Never mind.’ G10 shrugged. Then she turned her direct gaze on Zinnia. ‘G23 or Zinnia as you call yourself, we feel that you have the courage and intelligence to join our group. We feel privileged to welcome you to join the Secret Society.’

  Zinnia stared at the eager smiling faces, looking weird in the low lamp light and experienced a thrill unknown to her.

  ‘Thank you. And I feel privileged to be a part of your Secret Society,’ she responded and the others nodded. ‘But what does the Secret Society do?’

  The atmosphere in the room was subdued as the others glanced at G10. She inhaled deeply and began.

  ‘Each one of us is an unwanted entity in the Altklug world. The Altklug Administrator has our complete records—our entire history, the names of our parents, our birth dates as well as our Termination Dates.’

  Zinnia gulped, her throat suddenly dry. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It means that we are all marked. One by one, each one of us, is going to be killed or terminated. Some together, some alone, but without fail, the Dissolution Crypt is our final destination.’

  Shock slammed into Zinnia and reverberated in her body, like a spinner bracing against the walls of a narrow tunnel. She stared at G10, struggling with the myriad emotions which clashed inside her. The shifting shadows in the corners of the room were gloomy and almost spectral. Beside her, she sensed the twins trembling imperceptibly. Their faces were downcast, but they were holding hands. B15 crumpled the bed sheet in a tight fist, an angry frown on his forehead. And the two lamebroys with him stared at G10 with tormented eyes. Only G10 returned Zinnia’s stunned look with a steady, fearless gaze.

  ‘And...being the eldest, I shall be the first one to go,’ she divulged.

  Her voice was a whisper but it seemed to explode in the silent room.

  4

  ‘As you may have already noticed, we have amongst us a new entrant. Lamebirl No. G23 will you step forward please,’ Supercustodian ordered.

  Zinnia stepped out of the double line standing in the mirror-lined hall for the Introductory Parade. With her pinched nose, the Supercustodian made her nervous, but she hastened to the head of the line.

  ‘Just so that everyone knows, G23 has come to us from the Ret Cabana, which is a really small place. She would need your help in finding her way around the Cubicle as well with her duties. G23 likes to sing and will be sent to Mirella’s classes accordingly. Is there anything else you would like to say about yourself?’

  Zinnia was a little taken aback. She hadn’t expected the liberty of a self-introduction.

  ‘I...I...’ she began.

  Someone sniggered and Zinnia threw a quick look in the direction of the sound. It was the lamebroy who had misled her the previous evening. Lorde, she thought.

  ‘G
o on. Tell us about yourself G23 in precisely two sentences,’ Supercustodian encouraged with a nod.

  Two sentences! How could she describe herself in just two sentences? Zinnia wondered, feeling constricted and trapped. Especially now, when she was just beginning to get a glimmer into who she really was, rather, trying to grapple with the oceans of knowledge that seemed to have engulfed her. She stared momentarily at all the patient faces and wondered if they were listening because they were really interested or because they didn’t have any choice?

  ‘My name is Zinnia and I miss Ret Cabana,’ she said, finally.

  A hushed silence packed the hall as all the lamebren wore an expression of shock. Their eyes were not trained on her but on the Supercustodian. Had she said something wrong? She glanced at the Supercustodian and her nose seemed so pinched, that her nostrils appeared stitched together. Her lips were pursed in a grim, no-nonsense manner.

  ‘G23. That’s what you are and will always be in this Ace-world. As for missing Ret Cabana, that is a wasted emotion and has no place here.’ Her voice was icy and hard. ‘G10, it is your duty to ensure that G23 does not fritter away time on futile jobs and her time here is used to the best of her ability.’

  ‘Yes Ma’am.’ G10 briefly glanced at Zinnia and then back at Supercustodian.

  ‘Also, keep her by your side as your assistant, until you…’ Supercustodian paused for an infinitesimal moment, ‘until I say so.’

  ‘Yes Ma’am,’ G10 nodded, but Zinnia saw that her face had paled.

  G10 cast her eyes down in obedience. Her long hair was confined to a silver band and she wore a lovely red brooch today. But it was the way she held herself motionless as if frozen, that made Zinnia realise that the older lamebirl was trying hard to control her emotions. Iris, she thought, out of the blue. The twins, who were standing right behind her in parallel lines, glanced at each other. Their blonde curls were combed well and their cheeks were pinker than ever. Cheska and Camilla. The usually cheerful B15 stared at Supercustodian, so hard through his shock of unruly hair, that his gaze seemed to burn through her skull. Crispin…Crispin? Why not? Unwittingly, Zinnia smiled to herself, experiencing a happy gush at this wave of creativity. She had found the perfect names for them!

  ‘Okay, back to your duties. The vehicle is waiting outside to drop group B to their jobs, Group A into the garden, and Group C in the library. We rotate duties again next week. Also I would like to remind you that Commander Hertz may inspect the Cubicle anytime this week, so I would suggest that you all keep your padlets charged, rooms clean and attire spotless. Bosco will also be on the prowl, so I needn’t say more...’ The Supercustodian’s tone indicated dismissal and the two lines broke up.

  Zinnia stood confused. What was she supposed to do? Which group did she belong to? But her questions were answered instantly as G10 moved towards her, followed by her other new friends.

  ‘I am in your group?’ she asked, delighted as the twins joined them.

  ‘For the time being at least,’ G11 said.

  ‘Until Supercustodian suddenly feels it necessary to break the Groups, which could happen either tomorrow, next week or never!’ B12 concluded.

  ‘Why worry about it then? We‘re together now, aren’t we?’ B15 said cheerfully and G10 nodded.

  ‘Iris, Cheska, Camilla and Crispin,’ Zinnia announced.

  ‘What?’ the others chorused, confused.

  Zinnia flashed them a smile. ‘I’ve been thinking and I have finally found perfect names for you. G10, I shall call you Iris. G11—you are Camilla and B12, Cheska. As for you B15, I can only think of Crispin.’

  The others stared at her, their eyes wide in fascination.

  ‘Iris’ G10 repeated slowly. ‘I like it...it sort of does feel right on me, doesn’t it?

  ‘Perfect!’ the twins agreed.

  ‘Thank you Zinnia,’ the older girl said simply. ‘I’ll feel better now...when I have to say goodbye...’

  ‘Oh shush,’ B15 cut in. ‘Let’s enjoy our names. I’ve never had one before, or at least I don’t remember it, since I came here when I was three years old. Besides I like the ring of mischief in Crispin.’

  ‘Yes, I like Cheska too,’ B12 agreed.

  ‘And me Camilla! I feel as if I’ve had the name all along,’ G11 exclaimed.

  Zinnia appeared thrilled. ‘See, I told you I’d find the perfect names for you. I have names for each one of the other lamebren too. See that’s Reed and Berk!’

  She indicated the tall, thin boy and the lamebroy with the puffed cheeks who had been present for the meeting the previous night. ‘Berk has this perpetual anxious expression on his face, as if he is going to be summoned by Supercustodian any moment, doesn’t he? And that’s Maisie and Ivy—I haven’t seen them one without the other as yet. Maisie is the one with the braids and Ivy is the tall one. And that’s Azalea—dainty and fragile and she’s with Cylia—the lamebirl who always seems to be stitching something.’

  ‘Wow! You’re brilliant,’ Camilla chuckled.

  An announcement boomed through the Cubicle. ‘Group A report in the porch, Group B in the garden, and Group C in the library. Instructions await you at each point. Do not forget to keep your padlets with you. Moving around without the padlet is liable to attract Criminal Offence 226 and subject to rigorous isolation.’

  ‘Come on, let’s go,’ Iris said.

  ‘What’s Lorde doing here?’ Zinnia asked suddenly.

  ‘Who?’ The others turned to look in the direction she indicated.

  ‘Lorde, that’s my name for him,’ Zinnia explained.

  ‘Oh, B22! He’s with us,’ Crispin replied.

  ‘What!’ Zinnia looked horrified.

  Lorde stood aside, ignoring them and fiddling with his padlet.

  ‘What a name for him!’ Camilla laughed.

  ‘If I tell you what he did to me yesterday, you’ll agree that it’s an ideal name for him,’ Zinnia said.

  ‘Come on, everyone, to our duties,’ Iris said. ‘B22, please stop whatever it is you are doing and join us.’

  Lorde looked up and the sullen expression on his face darkened.

  ‘Don’t order me around. You’re not the boss here,’ he snapped.

  ‘I am in charge of the group,’ Iris reminded gently.

  ‘Yeah, only for a while. We all know what’s going to happen in a few months.’

  Zinnia stared at him shocked. The cheek of that boy—his arrogance and disrespect, not to mention his utter lack of sensitivity.

  ‘How dare you talk to her like that!’ Crispin cried, angrily.

  ‘Stop it, you two!’ Iris cut in hastily.

  ‘But he’s rude and ugly!’ Cheska blurted.

  ‘Let him say what he wants to. It doesn’t change anything.’

  ‘She’s right. We’ll all only end up being isolated, which we all know is the worst kind of punishment,’ Camilla agreed.

  ‘Come on, we have to report in flat two minutes at the garden,’ Iris remarked, leading the way out of the hall.

  Zinnia followed, ignoring the slow shuffle of reluctant feet behind her. She didn’t like Lorde—it was an instinctive feeling, she realised. Perhaps it had something to do with the way he had behaved with her on her arrival. But also because of the way he spoke to Iris. Iris was a kind-hearted, brave girl and Zinnia had liked her instantly. If Lorde could behave roguishly with Iris, he had no sense of judgment or decency. She had to keep her distance from him.

  The garden, as Zinnia had seen the previous day, was a large spread of green land as far as the eye could see. Machines of all kinds stood in a row in glass cabins with labels on them.

  ‘Like the name suggests, Lawnrover is for the lawns,’ Crispin explained. ‘Trimart trims the bushes with automatic, adjustable blades for different shapes. The Plucker cuts flowers, with or without stalks, simultaneously blunting the thorns. And Cleanster is for gathering the fallen leaves and disposing them in a box.’

  ‘You pick your choice. Which one would yo
u like to start with? We have to shape the east side of the garden today, before Rain Hour,’ Iris suggested.

  Zinnia looked lost and Lorde sniggered.

  ‘I am taking the Lawnrover,’ he announced and headed towards the cabin.

  ‘It’s easy. Look let me show you,’ Camilla volunteered. She slid open the door to the cabin and quickly demonstrated the workings of the Cleanster, while the others set about their tasks.

  For the next thirty minutes, Zinnia practiced the ‘red button, green button’ technique that Camilla taught her and was quite pleased with her pile of burnt, torn leaves. The sound of whirring filled the morning and although an urgency sat on the edge of their minds, the lamebren appeared to be relaxed.

  A while later they took a break under a huge tree with red and green patterned leaves, shaped like a roof. Iris handed out small transparent balls of water which burst open in the mouth and quenched their thirst instantly.

  ‘What did Lorde do to you?’ Cheska was curious. ‘I mean you barely know him and you’ve just arrived.’

  Zinnia recounted the incident.

  ‘The door to the Snarl? That is a serious offence indeed,’ Camilla remarked.

  ‘The Snarl? What is that? And why is that an offence?’

  ‘Because no one is allowed to go into the deep forest—that’s the Snarl! Especially the Altklugs. It’s a dangerous place filled with monsters and savage brutes. We won’t survive for a minute in that wild and dark jungle.’

  ‘There’s also a story behind it―we don’t even know if it’s true, it happened so long ago,’ Iris added. ‘Once, ages ago, before all of us were even born, a lamebroy escaped into the Snarl. His number was B7 but he liked to call himself Leo Leroy and I think the name kind of stuck. He simply vanished one day and was never heard of again. They searched for him but didn’t dare go into the Snarl and at that time there were no Scanners in the sky. Altklugs believe that something horrible happened to him in the Snarl. They apparently discovered parts―I mean a limb and a hand, and his clothes―so says legend.’