2110: BERGUM CAMPUS LOG

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LOG: AP43/BER/2150: Anti-Coupling vs Human Rights march at Bergum Campus 2110

My world is an awful nightmare. I live in constant fear of my own mind and its cantankerous spirit―a tedious way to live. We fought a bloody war for peace and security, but what was the true cost? Is our sedate society worth the banishment of choice? Is taking away our freedom of speech a worthy price to be paid for security? With exile or even death being the cure for every sort of trouble, how can anyone know the true value of freedom? I am doomed with the burden of this torch, forced to be a bearer of a brighter tomorrow. In death I will find true peace.

                                                                                        …Alma Parr

LOG HD67/BER/2190: Anti-Coupling vs Human Rights march at Bergum Campus 2190

My world is a paradox―a beautiful nightmare. They say that we have peace and prosperity―that we have healed. Everyone is supposed to be truly equal and yet we walk as the privileged among them, as bearers of a brighter tomorrow. We have no choice but to give of ourselves wholly. Anyone chosen to be coupled must stand up and be counted, or face the wrath of the corporation. The ropes of control, are being wound tightly―choking us until we cannot breathe. Today I take the torch of freedom. I say no, loud and clear and let tomorrow set a different course.

                                                                 …Honora D’avreau

Chapter One

The pounding of my feet on the ground, is all I hear as I bolt through New Hyde Park. I can feel the adrenaline pumping through me as my speed increases. People scowl when I approach them―judging me as some kind of criminal―whilst dogs snap in my direction for a free lunch. Breccan is just up ahead, he turns every couple of seconds, urging me to hurry. His mouth is moving, but I don’t hear his voice, just the sound of my heavy breathing. Fear of being caught is burning deep in my stomach, which makes me feel light headed. I look back to see if the gap between me and the purifier is closing, only briefly though; taking my eyes off Breccan could get me caught. We are so exposed right now, having passed through the natural cover of the trees.

‘He’s gone!’ I say, out of breath.

‘Don’t stop.’ Breccan shouts back at me, after a quick glance over his shoulder. ‘He’s still chasing us.’

A searing pain rips across the back of my head and through my ear, near the bio-chip implant. My mind goes completely blank and everything looks mottled. It doesn’t last long, but is intense. It happens again and this time I see Breccan’s hand grabbing the back of his head too, almost as if he’s experiencing the same thing.

‘What’s that?’ I shout.

‘It’s interference.’

It slows me down increasing the gap between us. I can’t do this much longer, sprinting was never my strong point at school.

‘Come on Honora!’

I take one last look behind, I just might make it. I’m not taking any chances though and push harder and faster. I’m a Vedian―extra fast, I know I can out-run this purifier.

I’m catching up to Breccan when a huge bang that rips across the park, almost pierces my ear drums. When the automatic breaks switch on in my head I trip over, almost landing flat on my face. I look behind and see the purifier sprawled out on the ground. I scream loudly and almost choke myself to death on the air I’m gulping down. I try to speak at the same time, which makes it worst. Nothing works. I immediately cover my face with my hands, but my fingers spread open by themselves. I can see him, I can see everything.

‘Oh… oh…’ No words.

‘Oh Wow! Wow!’ Breccan’s reaction is similar to mine.

My eyes hone in on the smoking wound to the back of the purifiers head, which is face down. The dark red blood that oozes out looks awful. I don’t think he would have survived that. The lush carpet of green grass is spoiled, with a puddle of crimson blood forming on it.

I am frozen to the spot, staring at this person, heavily clad in metallic armour. There is no sign of that fearsome holographic shield, just a load of blinking lights. The man I see looks almost normal, compared to the overbearing figure that was chasing me. Now he lies helpless―someone’s brother, nephew or son. This could be someone’s dad.  

Breccan grabs my arm. ‘What are you doing? We can’t stop now!’ His voice is loud and booming. I cover my ears, there is too much noise and nothing makes sense. The world is circling around me and I’m unable to move. As the spinning slows down and my eyes slowly focus, I see crowds walking towards us with quizzical looks on their faces. They saw him fall to the ground. They heard the shot. They think we did this.

‘What just happened?’ My words are a mixture of shouts and involuntary screams. ‘He’s…’ I stagger around from left to right―my legs are like jelly, I cannot straighten them. ‘Breccan, he’s, he’s…’

‘He’s dead, I know ... I know. We’ve got to get out of here.’ Breccan scours the park, twisting his head in sharp bursts from left to right. He squints at something he has spotted in the distance and points. ‘Over there in the bush.’

I don’t see anyone.

‘Damn!’ says Breccan, pacing back and forth with both hands scrunching his hair. ‘Let’s go, the crowds are closing in and I don’t want to be here when back-up arrives.’ Breccan turns his back on the corpse, barely giving it a second glance.

‘Maybe we should wait, explain that we’ve done nothing wrong,’ I say.  It feels so wrong to just leave him.

‘They wouldn’t listen,’ says Breccan.

‘We’re screwed,’ I say. ‘This won’t end well.’ One thing is clear, the corporation make few mistakes and has a zero tolerance policy. I can only see bad things resulting from this.

‘Honora! Come on.’ Breccan is more insistent and tightens his grip, yanking me in his direction. My legs are weak, however and I am staggering on my feet. I feel all fuzzy in my head, with every sound muffled, like I have cotton in my ears.  I get a sharp pain just under my ribs that burns like fire, and then a rush of acid that finds its way up and into my mouth.  I lurch forwards projecting a vile coloured sick onto the grass. I am bending over with blood rushing to my head, when another loud bang rips across the sky.

‘Run!’ Breccan’s voice jolts me to action. I run hard and fast.

Just up ahead is a corner leading to New Park Lane. It should only take seconds to reach it. The busy street is packed with people milling around in the sunshine.

‘Quick, take off your jacket and don’t look back,’ he says. ‘We need to blend in with the crowd.’

My head is still tingling from earlier; as I reach up to feel it, Breccan yanks my hand down. ‘Don’t do that!’ he says. ‘It’ll be a dead giveaway to any puke behind. That pain you had—I had it too. It’s an interference wave, pukes―’

‘Shhh! don’t say that out loud.’ I say. ‘Use the correct name. They’d haul you in for calling them pukes.’

‘Okay, okay! Purifiers use those bio-slicers to stop crims’, says Breccan. ‘Taken up a notch it would kill you.’

The thought of coming so close to death is way too heavy for me to hold inside of my head and so I blank it out, I can’t think about it now.

We walk on further, I’m mindful not to look suspicious, but in practice I must stand out like a sore thumb.

‘What was that?’ I ask.

‘Not now, just hurry,’ says Breccan, after another look behind. ‘We’ve not lost them yet.’ He slides his hand across my shoulders drawing me close, rubbing my arm every few seconds. I guess he feels this will help me. Nothing could right now. I just want to become invisible and go home to the quiet life that I enjoyed this morning.

As we walk nervously amongst the crowd, hoping to blend in, the holographic mannequin outside Elle’s Revive Salon invites us to come in for a massage. ‘Stress is a killer and I’m detecting a lot of that with you two,’ she says. Her loud twangy voice catches me off guard. I wouldn’t mind it normally, but today it’s just unwanted attention. It makes me feel like everyone is watching us. I’m really paranoid now. We walk for a few minutes without saying a word, but it’s impossible to keep quiet.

‘Who killed him?’ I ask.

‘Lower your voice,’ says Breccan.

‘Breccan … How did this happen?’

‘I don’t know.’ Breccan’s eyebrows scrunch up, revealing deep lines carved out across his forehead. ‘They’ve been on to us, ever since, well―’

‘Well what?’

‘They called me in last week.’

‘What?’ I stop and look at Breccan, but he’s having none of it.

‘We have to keep walking Nor! They accused me of prying into confidential corporation business. The files are on the net and I’m free to search. Anyway, they’ve been trying to apprehend me for minor things like speeding and litter violations, they’re just trying to scare me.’

‘I have my own issues with them, but I’m careful,’ I say. ‘Dragging your mates into this is not cool.’

Breccan has always been my protector, someone I look up to. All I see right now however, is trouble standing beside me.

Life is ok, we have everything we need, thanks to being bearers. Step an inch outside the line—having diverse ideas that could degrade the regime—and the cold, heartless reality of the corporation will hit us hard.

‘You know the drill Brec,’ I say, struggling to keep my composure. ‘Zero tolerance. This could get us wiped out. Our bio implants removed and a one-way trip to prison.’

We live in a world that has tried moderate punishment in the distant past. Nothing worked and now here we are, living under a regime that would sooner kill you than listen to feeble excuses.

‘It was a sharp shooter,’ says Breccan. Someone shot that puke, so that he didn’t catch us.’

‘That would suggest that someone is protecting you,’ I say.

‘Or you. It could be you they’re after. You forget that march you organised on campus? Going all anti-coupling.’

I don’t answer. He has a point. I am against the Veddik scheme coupling and forced unions, like others before me. Saying nothing makes me complicit in the misery of so many people. I hate injustice! No amounts of so-called peace and prosperity is worth having our lives dictated to us by one man.

A loud piercing siren floods the area, it has me disoriented for a moment. Everyone is looking around to identify the cause. Maybe they have tracked us through our implants. I look around frantically and quicken my steps as Breccan directs me through the bustling crowd—the screeching sirens not giving up for a moment.

At least a dozen purifiers surge past us, scattering everyone. Their holographic shielding is even more impressive close up, buzzing with energy as they pass. I dip my head low, focusing on their heavy boots―not making eye contact for a minute.

‘They’ve obviously found him, we need to get away from here,’ says Breccan.

‘Where are we meeting the others?’ I ask.

‘Sattas.’

‘We need to cancel, Breccan. There is no way we can meet up with the others now.’ I take a small black cube out of my pocket and finger the smooth shiny surface and rounded corners. ‘I can’t play anything after this.’

‘We’re okay, just act normal now.’ His fake smile quivers at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t fool me. Breccan is as spooked out as I am. He’s right though. This isn’t the first time we’ve been chased and got away, neither will it be the last. So I take a deep breath to calm myself, but I don’t believe for a moment that everything is going to be ok. Intuition clearly points me in the opposite direction. A man was killed today, chasing us.

For the first time since leaving New Hyde Park, I have a good look at where I am. The lush green sky allotments hang, laden with vegetables. The smooth green grass that lines the rooftops of the shops make everything appear tranquil—a far cry from the noisy turmoil in my head. The Cherry Blossom trees are in full bloom, pinkish tones, some dark and some pale.

The cobbled streets are clean; no one dares drop litter here, they’d be charged a week’s ration, which would translate into hunger for the entire family. Small road-sweep bots hover along the kerb, sucking in specks that may have fallen.

Children queue up to stand in the dress up booth, waiting for their virtual photo shoot.

‘I used to love those booths,’ says Breccan.

‘I got a photo done every year.’ I say.

‘Me too.’ Breccan snorts.

‘What was it for you?’ I ask.

‘007,’ Breccan swings round instantly un-holstering his imaginary gun, taking the 007 stance—gun aimed. It feels good to see him joke around, like he’s lightened his load or something. It doesn’t feel normal though, you know, like a huge grey cloud is above us.

A high pitched noise scrapes across the sky. ‘Once again, it’s another beautiful day.’ When a huge head pops out of the virtual billboard, just ahead of us, it startles me. ‘Ambient air quality is-err pristine. As always, criminality is low and we know who we have to thank for that.’

Everyone claps, most of them half-heartedly and some barely putting their hands together. Even I clap, it’s an automatic response. Being caught not doing so, causes suspicion and then surveillance is never ending. As the dead purifier comes back to mind however, I stop. There’s nothing to clap about here. 

‘This is messed up―one big smoke-screen,’ I say, through gritted teeth.

The loud booming voice plays continuously, drowning out all other conversation and even the siren for a few moments. ‘Don’t forget, think eco and ditch the ego, making our world a better tomorrow.’ Another screechy noise and a microphone pop―all I hear now, is the crowd.

I circle my head slowly as I am walking, my neck feels like one big stress-knot. The warmth of the sunshine is a bonus, it helps a bit.

As the clock chimes in Old Big Ben Square, crowds sit on the steps leading up to the old relic, chatting and enjoying the sun. I catch a guy kissing a girl on her lips; she could easily be a chocolate cake by the way he’s snogging her.

‘Young bearers eh,’ says a woman, sitting beside them.

My stomach tightens when she says that. I don’t answer her, but smile awkwardly instead. Only a few are privileged to bear our future kids. The Veddik scheme and the coupling have been hailed the biggest breakthrough in mankind’s search for peace and security. Population control is one thing, but dictating who the lucky ones are is something else. It goes against everything we are as humans.

I’ll be sixteen soon, eligible to be signed up for it. I’m not ready. No one has the right to force me to be coupled, and for what? So that I can produce a peace child, crafted by means of scientific algorithms. I stand by activists like Alma Parr, fearless in letting her thoughts known, even if it meant death. Its freewill all the way for me, I believe in love and choice, however archaic it has become.

Breccan’s eighteen and not coupled yet. He’s always teasing me; reckons this is going to be my year. I hope not.

‘Time,’ says Breccan. His right eye squints. ‘One o’clock! I wish I could turn the clocks back.’ Breccan looks at me and his eyes tell a story of stress and maybe even regret.

The reality of our perfect life has just hit us in the face. The results of using our freewill has caught up with at least one of us. We are being hunted and no one would know either.  The crowds are oblivious to the fact that both Breccan and I are the reason a purifier is dead. The siren has long stopped, signalling a return to normality.

Time is unravelling much slower than earlier. The blossom looks beautiful as the breeze filters through it, picking up the tiny delicate petals and giving its sent as a gift to anyone that wanders by.

As we reach the end of Park Lane, I’m hit by a different kind of amazing smell.

‘Mmm, cinnamon dough balls.’  All that stress has made me hungry. ‘Want one?’

‘No, I’m good thanks,’ replies Breccan, ‘not eaten one of those since chucking up a whole bucket full at Marley’s fare.’

‘Ergh! Thanks for that!’

I head towards a lady sitting in a small booth attached to the shop; she’s smiling at me. Her skin is dark like mahogany, with a network of deeply pitted lines that criss-cross all over her face. Her eyes—bright white, with almost black pupils.  She has a tooth missing at the front, which gives her a slightly creepy look when she smiles.

‘Future blessings,’ I say. A compulsory greeting for ones her age.

‘Sweet pumpkin-whirl dear?’ she asks.

‘Cinnamon dough ball please.’ I hand over my thumb for her to scan for a credit.

‘One fe de boyfriend?’ The old lady has a grin on her face.

I chuckle. ‘He’s not my boyfriend.’  

‘Eh heh … an’ me is not a Last One.’ The lady kisses her teeth; it is obvious that she doesn’t believe me.

‘I’m not arguing,’ I say, with a smile on my face. I don’t want to upset her, she is a Last One after all. Mum would hound me if she found out that I didn’t show her respect.

Extremely old people like her are a minority, born of a single nationality. The Veddik scheme changed all of that. We are becoming a world of bi-racial and bi-national humans, with none claiming superiority over the other. We are one race and one culture, except for the Last ones. We don’t count the rebels either, the corporation have tried to stamp them out, non-conformists that are pretty good at avoiding capture. They stick to their own kind. Hiding out in the sticks however, is a huge price to pay.

A part of me understands them. I wish I knew I knew what it was like back then. Feeling like I belonged. I am the beginning of something different, a dawn of a new creation and; I should feel great! I don’t.

As I stuff the dough into my mouth a warm giddy feeling rolls my eyes back in their sockets. ‘Mmm, that’s good.’ When I open them Breccan is standing there watching me.

‘Wow, you eat like that in front of all the guys eh?’ he asks, with a huge smirk on his face. ‘A real turn on!’

‘What, I’m not trying to—’ Big mistake, as I try to speak it almost flies out of my mouth.

‘Nice. Listen, don’t bother answering, let’s just go,’ he says, taunting me. At this point he outstretches his arm, putting his palm right up in my face so as to obscure the contents of my mouth.

‘What, did you really think I was—?’

‘Yeah, of course you were’ he says.

‘Trust me, if I were to do that ... that whole cutesy thing ... you’d be doing more than just blushing, like you are now.’ I’m lying of course, I wouldn’t know how to make a fly blush, that’s Hope’s department.

‘I don’t blush.’ Breccan turns his back on me and walks ahead.

As we enter Sattas Park I am apprehensive, the last park we were in saw a man’s life cut short. However as I press on forwards, through the entrance, it is amazing. We are welcomed by a spray of beautiful colours on a ceiling of spaghetti like branches, entwined to form an arch for us to walk through. As for the perfume that greets us, it’s breath-taking. I inhale deeply, filling my nose with a beautiful bouquet.

‘I wish I could bottle that; I’d add it to my Fragrance-Ball. My bedroom would smell amazing.’

Breccan doesn’t answer. No doubt thinking about the awful mess earlier, I sure am. I’m the opposite, though. I have to speak, let it all out. There is more room outside of my head, than inside, you know.

‘You think he had a family?’ I ask.

‘Not sure,’ replies Breccan.

‘I mean … they’ll look after them right?’

‘They’ll look after them,’ says Breccan. ‘Look, it wasn’t your fault, it was someone’s fault, but definitely not yours.

I hear Breccan, but all I can focus on is that I was there and he was chasing me. I was involved in his death, somehow.

‘It’ll haunt me for the rest of my life,’ I say, staring blankly across the park.

Breccan, pats my back. ‘You’ll be signing up for the coupling soon what with your sixteenth coming up.’ A poor attempt to cheer me up.

‘Yup, I guess.’ The thought of it churns my stomach. I want to tell him how I really feel about it all and how petrified I am. I won’t go through with it.

‘So, you ready for it then?’ he asks.

‘Kind of,’ I say. I wimp out, don’t have the nerve.

‘Kind of, what does that mean, kind of? You sign the release form and hope that you’ll get hooked up with a stud, right?’ says Breccan, as if it were a walk in the park.

‘I will not jump for joy about it, let’s get that straight.’ It’s inevitable that I’ll be chosen, after all, my brother Malian was successfully coupled and is on his way to becoming a dad. They never gave me the injections throughout schooling either. Imagine being the only girl in your class with a red letter day. The others thought it was amazing, something special. I hated it, didn’t want to be special. I wanted to be normal. It’s too late for that now, own to Laird, I would be coupled and have a child. It’s what we’re supposed to do in our family, make babies, or face death, I suppose. The thought of it makes my lip sneer.

‘You’re gonna have an awesome birthday bash.’ Breccan’s words fail to reassure me or raise a smile. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. It’s a natural process.’

‘But that’s just it, it isn’t natural, read your history books. Things were different back then, we had a choice. I know some countries did it this way, but my ancestors chose and so should I.’

This really bothers me and as I stop for a moment, feet firmly planted in the ground, I sigh deeply at the impossible situation my birthday will put me in. I look at Breccan for answers even though I know he has none.

‘Well, I don’t know,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you speak to your dad about it, he works for the corporation ... he’ll know.’

‘I spoke to Hope. Fatima, her sister—she’s the one that got coupled three years ago—said that apparently you go on a course of medicine for a whole year after you’re coupled; something to do with getting your body prepped for childbirth.’

‘Yeah, the Veddik Scheme. What’s so bad about that?’

 ‘Not everyone makes it. It’s still trial and error. Do you remember a girl called Lolita, she was coupled with Spinney, the guy from Stonecombe Village?’

‘Spinney was a mate of Jude’s, I knew him well. Yeah Lolita died just after they coupled. Hang on, you’re not saying that was due to some freak medicine she was given, are you?’

I slowly nod my head, with one eyebrow cocked. ‘And that’s not all, do you remember what happened to her parents after?’

Breccan is silent.

‘Apparently, her dad got angry about it, confronted the corporation and threatened to tell everyone what actually happened. Don’t hear anything about him anymore do we?’

‘What are you saying? He got bumped off or something?’ Breccan grins.

‘Fatima said that this happens more frequently than most realise.’

Breccan pulls a long blade of grass out of the ground. He cleans the bulbous root, leaving it smooth and puts it in his mouth. ‘I knew spinneys Dad, Mum always spoke to him. Our families were close. He came over one evening, around the same time as the Lolita business; he was real spooked about something. I was eves-dropping. He gave Mum some blueprints, which ended up being for that massive subterranean project that was halted decades back; said it would prove the stories were true.’

‘What stories?’

‘You know, those stories about the other world.’

‘Not those,’ I say. ‘Really!’

‘I watched Mum hide those prints under lock and key. For at least a year after corporation dudes came to the house, non-stop, to question Mum about their whereabouts. Of course, she never admitted to having them and we never saw Spinney’s dad again … he disappeared.’

‘How did you know what they were … the prints, I mean?’

‘I was always intrigued with what Lolly’s dad said to Mum. He seriously implicated the corporation in some pretty awful stuff.’

‘So he was against the coupling,’ I say.

‘He lost his kid,’ says Breccan. ‘I’d say yeah.’

‘So why did he give them to your mum? I didn’t know she was against the corporation.’

‘Mum’s loyal to the corporation, she’d never blackmail Laird; those were Lolly’s dad’s intentions. She wouldn’t expose her friends either, so the prints were left to rot. I found the key some time later.’

‘And?’

‘And it was as he said. An underground habitat called Kaynaa.’

‘Ah! So no stories of torture chambers then; no fear evoking underworld?’ I say.

‘I’m not the only one that has ever questioned it,’ says Breccan. His tone changes. ‘I do have the prints. Don’t be so sure those rumours aren’t true.’

’Not buying it! Nor should you. It’s dangerous. Besides, everyone knows it’s just some embellished story that has been floating around for donkey’s years, since the end of the New Revolution, actually.  I’ve heard it so many times, Dad told me and Granddad would’ve told him.’

‘You weren’t saying that the other night around the bonfire … gave a pretty convincing rendition of the underworld … maybe I should say, other world.’

‘Just a story,’ I say―folklore Brec. No torturous camps below the surface.’

‘Yup, you’re right. I suppose that dead puke’s folklore too. So much for our peaceful world, eh!’ Breccan slows down and peers around the park. ‘We’re being watched!’ his demeanour changes from frustration to caution. The same look he had earlier in New Hyde Park when he spotted the shooter.

Breccan starts running, ‘It’s him, the shooter! Quick, run.’

The past few moments of calm are turned upside down and now I’m running for my life, once again.