NEW STORY! Ok, so I happen to share my birthday with the crazy-talented kinghanalister, and she had mentioned to me that she had recently seen the episode "15 Million Merits" in the BBC drama, "Black Mirror" (interestingly, BOTH Allen Leech and Jessica Brown-Findley were featured on this show, but sadly not in the same episode. Ah well!)
JBF is in the above mentioned episode that kinghanalister had seen, and to give you a "brief" idea, it's set in a future dystopian society where people work by pedaling on stationary cycles (for purposes of fueling energy, or so they're told). People earn "merits", which can be "spent" on a great number of things, but if you earn up to fifteen million, you can "win the chance" to appear on a reality TV show (like The X Factor) and make a gamble with your life for something better...
If you're familiar with the episode in "Black Mirror", you'll be able to follow along fairly closely. If not, feel free to watch it (it can be found on youtube-but warning! It's very angsty), OR you can choose to be "surprised" with this story as it goes along.
OK! Understand? So this story is set many, many years ahead into the future; the people who cycle live in what's called "work houses", where they eat, sleep, work, and are monitored constantly. Hopefully it will make sense as it goes along. The story is told in two ways: in the present, through the POV of Alfred, and through Tom's flashbacks.
Alright, world's longst A/N. THANK YOU FOR READING (still) and please share with me your thoughts! And again, HAPPY BIRTHDAY KINGHANALISTER, my birthday twin! :oP
"Anyone Who Knows What Love Is (Will Understand)"
by The Yankee Countess
I
"…And this is the canteen. All of your meals are eaten in here, and only during the designated windows in your work schedule, so I suggest you not squander them when you get the chance," muttered his superior, as he finished showing him the Downton facilities. They were a bit nicer than the last work house he had come from, but still…a work house is a work house, whether it was in the country or the city.
"Alright," his superior groaned, making no attempt to hide his boredom. "Any questions?"
Alfred shook his head. "No sir."
"Good," his superior grumbled, before leaning over to one of the machines in the canteen and punching in some numbers on a tiny keypad.
"180 merits," an electronic voice responded.
His superior swore, before muttering, "highway robbery", and holding his wrist under a glowing light. His wrist bore a white armband, the same sort of armband that Alfred wore. A sound was made by the machine, and the electronic voice spoke again. "180 merits have been deducted. Thank you."
"No, thank you," his superior sarcastically replied, and Alfred watched as a pack of cigarettes fell out through the machine's window. His superior bent to retrieve them, and didn't waste any time, taking one of the cigarettes and lighting it, before closing his eyes and inhaling upon it deeply. Alfred had never cared for smoking; of all the things to spend one's merits on, it seemed like a complete waste.
"Come on," his superior sighed, after exhaling a thick cloud of gray smoke. "Time to meet your bunkmate."
Alfred followed his superior down a long corridor, one that twisted and turned so much, Alfred wasn't sure if he would remember which way to go to make it back to the Downton canteen. "Right, here we are," his superior mumbled, the cigarette between his lips. They were standing outside a beige door. It looked exactly like every other beige door on the corridor. They weren't even marked! How did his superior know which one was his?
"Branson!" his superior shouted, not even bothering to knock.
No answer.
His superior sighed, before pounding his fist on the wall beside the door, and just like at the canteen, a tiny screen appeared, with a built-in keyboard. His superior punched in several numbers, and door automatically opened.
"There's no point in knocking," his superior answered the unspoken question. "He wouldn't have answered anyway."
Alfred frowned and looked inside the tiny room. All it contained was a simple bunk bed. Nothing else.
"Branson," his superior called out, and it was only then that Alfred realized someone was in the room!
He was lying flat on his back on the top bunk. He lifted his head, looked down at them, and then rolled right back over onto his back.
"Yeah, real talker this one," his superior muttered to him, before turning back to "Branson". "This is Alfred; your new bunkmate. Try not to kill him."
Alfred's eyes widened in shock and his face went pale at his superior's words.
For the first time since meeting the dark-haired man, his superior chuckled.
"Right, that's that; get some rest, Alfred. Because tomorrow, you'll wish you had it." And without another word, his superior walked out of the room and the door shut right behind him.
Alfred opened his mouth to say something, but the lights in the room instantly dimmed, and a voice was heard overhead, that same electronic voice that had spoken from the machine in the canteen, "mandatory lights out in fifteen minutes."
Alfred eased away from the door…and turned his head towards the bunk, looking somewhat nervously at the still image of his bunkmate.
The man (Branson) didn't move. Not even a twitch.
"Um…like he said, I'm Alfred."
No answer.
"I…I came up from the city," he went on. "They transferred me from there to here."
Still no answer.
"How long have you been here? Was this your original work house?"
His bunkmate rolled over onto his side, facing away from Alfred.
Still silent.
Right, so that's that then. Alfred shook his head and eased himself down onto the bottom bunk. He had been warned by his superior that his bunkmate was a "real talker". But what did he mean about "try not to kill him"? Surely that wasn't the reason—
Music suddenly began to play and fill the space. The sound of The Anthem filled the room and Alfred quickly rose from his bed and stood straight and to attention. He stepped aside so that his silent bunkmate could leap down and do the same…but the man didn't move.
Alfred's eyes widened. But…but it was against the rules not to stand and show respect when the anthem played! Wasn't it?
"Ten minutes before mandatory lights out," the electronic voice spoke, after The Anthem had concluded. "But please, use this time now to make your Vision Selections for your work day!"
Alfred glanced at his bunkmate, but again, the man made no sound, nor did he move from the position which he held. Alfred frowned, but his attention was drawn back to the wall screen, which took up the entire north wall, as various squares (smaller screens) danced around, highlighting different programs that one would choose to be their "vision selection" for the work day.
It was much of the same at his former work house. Game shows, classic sports, reality competitions, pornography—
Alfred's eyes widened.
Pornography!?
…As an actual option for one's "Vision Selection"!?
His old work house in the city never had THAT!
Alfred reached out and touched the small square on the wall screen, and his wide eyes only grew wider as the screen filled the wall, and various beautiful women wearing very little, filled his vision, while a voice narrated, "the HOTTEST women, who will do ANYTHING for it, who will get down on their knees before you and BEG FOR IT! 60 merits for fifteen minutes of raw action; 100 merits for thirty minutes; 150 merits for an hour's worth of non-stop, uncut, nasty, dirty—"
The screen changed to the image of a wooded path, the sounds of birds singing filling the air, while a calm voice spoke about rejuvenation in nature. Alfred's brow furrowed; what happened? He hadn't touched the wall to indicate a change—
Alfred gasped as his bunkmate stepped in front of him, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark with unreleased fury. The man was shorter than himself, but despite that fact, Alfred found himself shrinking back, especially when he heard his bunkmate's—Branson's—knuckles crack his hands clenched into fists.
"That channel…" Branson growled, his eyes never leaving Alfred's as he took several threatening steps towards him. "…Is NEVER played in here. Understand?"
Alfred swallowed and quickly nodded his head. "Yes…yes…I understand, I understand," he assured. "I'm sorry, I…I'm sorry."
Branson remained close, his eyes remaining locked on Alfred's, and Alfred had a feeling that despite the dark coldness that stared back at him, it would be far worse right now if he looked away.
Branson continued to hold Alfred's frightened gaze for a few more seconds…before finally turning and easing away him, his fist semi-punching the wall, and the electronic voice from earlier announced, "Branson: vision selection…"pine road". Total: 10 merits. Please hold wrist band to wall."
Branson did so, his eyes still remaining on Alfred, as something in the room scanned his armband.
"Thank you. 10 merits has been deducted. You remain with a total of...13,277,486."
Alfred's eyes practically leapt from his skull.
Thirteen-million, two-hundred and seventy-seven thousand, four-hundred and eighty-six merits!?
Was that…was that even possible!?
Alfred had never met anyone who had more than ten-thousand merits! He barely had a thousand, himself! And yet his bunkmate had over thirteen million. He was so amazed by this revelation, he completely missed Branson's wince at the mention of his amount.
"I…that…" Alfred was stammering, but he couldn't help it! "That's…that's amazing!" he managed to gasp at last. "You have OVER thirteen million merits! That…that's the most I've ever heard a person having! Certainly the most of anyone I've ever met!"
His bunkmate just shrugged his shoulders, his expression never changing. Without another glance, he turned back to their bunks and hoisted himself up to the top, resuming the position he had before he leapt down to confront Alfred and warn him.
"It's still not enough," was all Branson said.
"It has to be rigged, that's the only explanation…"
He laughed at her cynicism. "You don't think anyone can earn up to fifteen million?"
She looked over at him from her cycle and giggled, that beautiful sound that was sweeter than any music he had ever heard.
"Do you?" she asked, her eyebrows lifted.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe; I mean, I've never met anyone with that many, but…" he paused and did the calculations in his head. "It would take a while, no denying that…"
"A while!?" she gasped, laughing again. "It would take YEARS! And I don't just mean 'storing up' merits, I mean, a person would really, really have to make sacrifices, and I don't just mean opting out of a Vision Selection," she pointed at the wall in front of them. "But...the very basics! Meals, comfort—hygiene," she made a face then which got him laughing.
"Heaven forbid," he chuckled.
"Laugh all you want now, but you would think very differently if your cycling partner hadn't showered in the past ten days."
"Ah, so that explains the smell…"
"OH!" she gasped, and then reached over and swatted him, which only had him laughing again, catching her wrists as she tried to continue her swats, the action nearly causing her to lose her balance from the cycle, but he had her—he'd never let her fall.
"OI!" barked a superior from behind them. "ENOUGH OF THAT! GET BACK TO WORK!"
She rolled her eyes, and he did his best not to keep laughing.
"I'm really disappointed in Thomas," she sighed, looking over her shoulder at the dark-haired man who had barked at them. "Ever since he was made a Superior, he's been rather unbearable."
He lifted an eyebrow at this. "He was bearable before?"
She swatted him again, though maintained her balance this time. "You haven't known him as long as I have, he can be very thoughtful if he wishes."
He snorted at this. "Well, he hasn't 'wished' in a long time then."
She didn't argue with him.
They resumed their cycling, that comfortable silence that was uniquely their own, falling upon the both of them once more.
The Vision Screen before them was blank; every so often an advertisement for programming would pop up, encouraging them to spend their merits, but in truth, they were both very content to just focus on the blank wall and do their work side by side, be that in silence, or while talking; it didn't matter, things just felt…right…when they were next to each other.
"…What's the highest amount of merits you have ever encountered?" she asked him, breaking the silence.
He looked back at her with some surprise at the question, and frowned as he thought long and hard. "I think…yeah, there was someone at the last work house where I was, that had over 500,000…but I've never met or heard of anyone getting anywhere close to a million, let alone fifteen-million."
She nodded, her eyes still focused on the wall before them.
"What about you?" he asked, gazing at her profile. Even the simple act of watching her pedal made him smile, he couldn't deny. And his smile only grew as she scrunched her own face up in concentration.
"...You know, I think…yes, yes, I actually do remember someone who had just over a million!"
"What!?" he looked at her skeptically.
She turned and looked back at him. "Just a moment ago you were the 'optimistic one', challenging me about my doubts on anyone being able to obtain fifteen million—"
"That was hypothetical, this is an actual person that you know," he clarified.
She shrugged her shoulders. "Even so, there's only one reason to store up that many merits."
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and noticed how she was gazing at the small screen, hiding in the corner of the larger one in front of them, the screen that advertised the very program that had started this conversation.
"Fifteen million merits for fifteen minutes of fame?"
He had said it in a teasing voice, but when she turned and looked at him, there was no trace of humor in her eyes. In the time he had known her, he had never seen her look so serious.
"No…" she murmured. "Fifteen million merits…for a ticket to a better life."
...to be continued
So what did you think? Hard to understand? Eager to learn more? *crossing fingers* Please share with me your thoughts! THANK YOU!