The time of madness was centuries old. Generations had passed since the
council had established peace. Sure, there was still a great deal of unrest
outside the borders of the areas under the council's jurisdiction. But
nobody wanted that area anyway. A vast wasteland, it was said. The area was
the domain of the outcasts, tribes of the unwanted people who resisted the
Council's laws and chose to live in banditry and squalor. There were no
laws, no rules and no hope out there. People would kill you for the clothes
on your back. If they didn't suck your blood. There was rumours of other
nations, the Council ruled the world, there were no others alive apart from
people within the State, the world was filled with vast fields of green
with wild fowl and game leaping everywhere, the earth was a cratered mess
like the cities they lived in now, there were permanent storms that boiled
red in the skies only to unleash fiery death upon the people underneath,
green, choking fog patrolled around the borders of the land killing all
that strayed. For every person you asked or every book you read or every
map you had seen the world was a different place outside. Just as there
were variations in every interpretation of the past, so too were the
interpretations of the present. Only you mattered, let each person deal
with their own. It was said that it was now an offence to even speak of the
outside. Most curious children would be told that the State is all there
is, to do otherwise could bring unwanted attention. What schools there were
would teach the same, if you were true to the State then it didn't matter.
Nobody needed to deal with the outside. Nobody.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Billy Doyle ran along the beaten dirt path in the municipal park. He laughed as he ran, the air whistling as it eddied in his ears and the satisfying thump his trainers made as the dust scurried away in clouds beneath his feet thrilled him. His arms flailing, he felt a bit faint as his little heart hammered in his body like a muscled ping pong ball in a can shaken by a demented toddler. He could only barely hear the huffing and puffing of Sebastian behind him. He stole a quick look back and he saw Sebastian's face contorted like he had mustard smeared on the roof of his mouth, his eyes squinting in determination, his little knees almost up to his waist as he tried with all his soul to get to that which was his goal, the centre of his focus. It would give him glory untold; bards would compose odes of his triumph as the heavens would open up to let angels fill the earth with their chorus of praise upon the young hero.
'Hah, I win again Sebastian.'
Billy said this as his hand reached out and slapped the bark of the aging sycamore tree, spinning around to beam his triumph as Sebastian stumbled to a halt a few metres short.
'Face it Sebastian, I'm a whole two and five eighths years older than you, you can't hope to beat me.'
Billy panted as he held his knees, taking huge lungfuls of air to recover from the mad rush of strength leaving his body. Sebastian fell onto his front and rolled over, gasping for breath, his face pink with effort. Billy recovered quickly and started to jump on the spot and stretch as his mother walked up with a grin, the lead rolled up in her hand as Amadeus pranced by her side. Amadeus caught sight of Sebastian lying spent and barked, rushing forward to lick his face causing the boy to only splutter his protests. Billy ran to his mother and hugged her.
'You boys been racing again?' she said, tousling Billy's longish hair. 'You should really let poor Sebastian have a chance, you're his big brother. He can't keep up if you're two years older than him.'
'Two and five eighths years older Mummy.'
She laughed and tousled his hair again, helping Sebastian up to his feet. She dusted him down and wiped off where Amadeus had drooled on him and kissed him on the forehead.
'My poor, poor boy. Don't worry, there's always next time.'
His mother's words fell on deaf ears. Sebastian couldn't focus because of the tears in his eyes, the bitter taste of defeat heavy in his mouth. His brother had once again run him into the ground and though his legs ached and his lungs were raw he had once again failed. He knew that this wasn't the last time. He had run his best race and yet Billy had effortlessly turned his best efforts to ash that now filled his mouth, making him feel sick to the base of his gut.
Billy started skipping ahead, 'Come on Sebastian, we'll see if you can beat me in the monkey bars.' He started to run again as the corner turned to reveal the playground but Sebastian felt no joy as it came into view. He had been defeated once more and he hated it every single time.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*
In retrospect it was to be expected. Two half-brothers, raised more or less all their lives in the same house would naturally compete for their parent's affections. It was only a matter of time before the older Billy would want to follow in his step-father's footsteps and be an officer. Sebastian would choose the same. Their education naturally lent itself to near worship of the government and what it stood for and so naturally they would both choose to join CGI, the most famous and elite of the law enforcement arms of the State. Throughout their lives they would compete and jostle for attention and praise. Brothers so alike and yet they looked so different. Billy had his biological father's severe blonde hair and fair skin. Sebastian was dark like his father. They shared the same dark intense eyes that their mother had used to win the hearts of first Billy's father; a mechanic, followed by Sebastian's father; advisor to the Vice Section- Commander of CGI's riot control branch.
James Powell had repaired mainly government vehicles when he fell electrically in love with Billy's mother. Sarah Rickman worked in a bar that he occasionally went to after work, a seedy dive where the clientele were mainly soldiers, transporters and the odd person who used to go just to stare at Sarah and sigh into their beers. She was a heart breaker of the old class, the kind that enjoys a gentleman's company and any gifts they may give but would never stray into immorality. The kind of girl that would let you down in such a way that you couldn't object but you never enjoyed it. Her father owned the bar and many a burly trucker would weep onto his little shoulder as he comforted them after his daughter told them that she didn't feel that she was ready for the kind of commitment they were looking for. James fell horribly, cripplingly in love with her when he first saw her, stuttering his order at the bar. Her father rolled his eyes and pitied the poor fool.
What followed was not as people expected. James regularly slipped hastily scribbled love notes to Sarah as she went about her daily business of smiling at old beau's and waiting at tables. She read them all and smiled, never keeping them but appreciating the gesture none the less. Life for James became horribly complicated. He became wildly jealous of any man who even looked at her with desire resulting in him spending most of his time insane with rage until he went home to spend sleepless nights attacking his pillows.
The real turning point came when he saw someone having a whispered conversation with his heart's desire. The first thing he did was fantasise about smashing his face inside out with a wrench. As he watched he took a half crushed carnation from his inside coat pocket and lay it reverently on her tray. She smiled and thanked him before returning to her post behind the bar and subtly dropping the near-dead flower into a waiting bin. He was elated she hadn't kept it but realised that he needed to give her a token of his own love. But what? More sleepless nights were spent trying to work out what to get, how he could amass the money it would probably cost and how to give it to her. It all came to the happy conclusion of him slipping her a note one day when she served him at the bar wrapped about an aluminium bracelet. The metal was heavily worked, sculpted into sinuous organic curves, little copper flowers hanging precariously off the silvery metal; the result of 4 days work during his breaks in the garage from scraps of metal lying around in the workshop. It was a great deal too wide as he had used his own wrist to get the right shape and the flowers fell off if you moved your hand too quickly but it was a work of love. The next night he went in there it was proudly wedged on the fleshy part of her lower arm, just above the wrist.
And so it began, the mechanic who tortured metal into trinkets to gain the attention of a pretty girl began to see the girl more often. The bracelet started a conversation, a necklace of copper and polished steel earned a dinner, a ring crafted from scraps of jewellery melted in a pot above a bunsen burner in the workshop and inlaid with copper swirls earned her marriage. Eight months after he gave her the bracelet he pledged his vows to love and honour her always as she did to him.
After a year there was born to them a child with a shock of whitish hair like a miniature physicist. For a few magical months their lives were perfect. They moved to a newly developed area in a tiny house that they fully intended to make into the perfect dream home that they had always talked about living in. Billy grew and started to burble, the mumbling and incoherent noises he made somehow making him more loved by all. Life was wonderful for them all.
The day started off like any other. James awoke next to his beautiful wife; her eyes heavy with lack of sleep from waking up to tend to Billy. He knew his own must be as bad. They all three stumbled downstairs and prepared for the day while still only being slightly awake, Billy was toddling about and occasionally needed to be swept up when he was about to fall on his little pudgy face. James kissed his wife on the cheek as he left the house, ruffling Billy's hair on the way past. He was late for work but that hardly mattered as business was slow and it was just a few cars that needed tuning up that he needed to attend to. Sarah blew him a kiss as he walked out of the door and went back to feeding Billy orangey gruel on a small spoon.
That evening Sarah put Billy to bed. The day had been reasonable, nothing unusual. James hadn't returned from work but that happened sometimes. He would get bogged down in dealing with a troublesome engine and spend hours taking it apart and cleaning all of it. It was when she woke up to deal with Billy that she noticed the bed cold and empty beside her. It was the early hours of the morning and still he hadn't come home. It was then she panicked.
Tending to Billy she took him with her as she went first to the garage in which he worked followed by anywhere he could conceivably have gone to. She couldn't find him anywhere. Weeping she walked into her father's bar as dawn rose, her infant son balanced on her hip and grizzling. Her father took her in and sent some people to look for her missing husband.
Sarah was inconsolable. A woman alone could hardly survive living on what little the State had to offer, especially one as untrained as her. Coupled with the burden of little Billy there was little she could do. As days past with no news of James that turned to weeks hopes that he may come back lessened.
In this world people disappeared. It was a fact of life. Your existence was filled with a piety to the state because of what they had created from out of the ashes of the ancient. The state was all. They were salvation. The beginning and the end. The alpha and the omega. Questioning it was unthinkable. If someone went missing it was meant to be. It was for the good of all. The state had a reason to do it and so it was done, end of discussion.
James Powell became another name that only existed in rumours and in the few belongings that were left behind. The customary month rolled by and all of value was taken by the state, apologies given to the widow and the garage allocated to the next person who could prove themselves worthy of owning it.
With nowhere else to go Sarah lived with her father again, tending to the bar as she had done before she had met James. Things were as they were save the truckers were more protective of the girl and the boy waddled around the bar occasionally, providing impromptu entertainment for the clientele.
Just under a year after James had gone Sarah met Major Todd Doyle. He was the tall, dark and handsome kind of man that women have fantasised about since the dawn of time. Todd was an officer of the law; he had power and prestige. The moment he saw Sarah waiting tables at a seedy bar he had come to investigate he knew he fell deep, just as James had a few years before. He completed his assignment, invited the tired but still vividly beautiful lady with him to a restaurant. At first she was reluctant but eventually she gave in to her father's cajoling, her own loneliness and the pressure of Billy's increasing needs as he started to grow. She accepted.
The courtship lasted only a few months before they married. Todd worshipped the ground Sarah walked on. Although Sarah missed James she began to be happy again with Todd, his thoughtfulness and the way he interacted with her son made him all the better. Billy was treated by Todd as his own son. The boy who looked nothing like him was a wonderful child, so inquisitive and beautiful. It was only a matter of time before Sebastian was born to the couple, a child of their union who shared no genes with a missing mechanic. Their precious angel.
The boys were treated well. The best education available was given to them. As Todd was promoted the family's housing and allowance was improved. Todd zipped up the ziggurat of command, his leadership qualities and determination a credit to his department. It wasn't long before he was leading his own division and soon afterwards he transferred to CGI itself. Meanwhile his boys had established themselves as remarkable in the academy, Sebastian as methodical and efficient and Billy as a brilliant and innovative thinker. Billy was a risk taker and was possessed with a confidence and glamour that attracted great respect from all around him. Sebastian was a good person. And that was it.
They both graduated with great honour, both boys receiving immediate offers of a place within various offices of State. Sebastian took up a place in the same enforcement branch as his father had started in, an underfunded but vital part of the daily running of State. Billy was snapped up immediately by CGI.
With news of their son's success a celebration was called for. Nobody noticed that Sebastian wasn't part of the festivities. Curled up in a ball on his bed he wept bitter tears of jealousy as the bass thump of music and dancing feet drifted up into his room.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Who would have thought that such a good child should stray? Sebastian had always been reliable, dependable. The stable one of the family. He worked his way up the ranks in the time honoured way of perseverance, knuckling under, giving his job his all and the old policy of dead men's shoes. Fatalities were common even in his department. His transfer to CGI was after their examination of his flawless service record and outstanding technical competence in the myriad of entrance tests. He continued up the ranks even further than his father had and gained the position of Section Chief itself. He was a great officer, his textbook knowledge of tactics backed up by years of service and an unshakeable faith in the chain of command and the power of the state.
If only his brother could have been like him.
Billy had been a bright star in the department. He was in one of the most front-line and influential divisions, the Office of Truth. His athletic and intellectual abilities at the academy had ear-marked him for such a prestigious position. After further training in tactics, detective work and some of the less palatable skills an investigative officer would need he was deemed ready. His training took well and his first mission went fantastically, his performance outstripping expectations.
The Office of Truth was a sub-branch of CGI absolutely committed to the preservation of democracy at all costs. It was the main counter espionage force and all who served within its ranks swore sacred oaths on their lives and that of their families to protect the council and all it stood for.
An anti-government militant group known as the Libertarians had been developing and had support from grass root organisations; unions of workers and even police were said to be indoctrinated. They had been building a power base for around 3 and a half years when Billy swore his oath. After a lot of careful investigative work so as not to arouse suspicion their headquarters was found in an industrial district, hidden within the offices of a group of welders who had had many government contracts. After claiming responsibility of a bombing that had killed a cybernautic officer it was decided that the time for investigation was over. The young and ambitious Billy begged for the chance to prove his mettle to his senior officer who eventually accepted. With a unit of half a dozen Guardians of Truth he went out into the night to shut down operations at the welding plant.
It took until the next afternoon for the flames to die down to a level that the fire department could handle. The corpses recovered were barely recognisable although it was obvious gunshots had wounded many of them. None of the revolutionary leaders had died in the blaze; they had been seized, bundled into a van and driven to the centre of the local shopping area where they had been kicked out and executed in the street before the evening shoppers. Their bloodstained corpses stayed where they lay for days, any passersby that paid their respects were arrested and questioned by the Office's troops. The sympathisers and supporters of the Libertarians identified during the investigations were seized and questioned, each new name coming out from beneath the electrodes and knives of the questioners brought more to the basements beneath the CGI buildings.
In a scant 2 weeks the Libertarians were completely eradicated. Every lead was ruthlessly investigated, the trails of names and contacts going right up to the elected themselves. In total Officer Doyle was responsible for the purging of 2 of the elected, 16 members of various law enforcement organisations and 49 members of the underground militant group itself. Each death had a book of evidence gleaned from investigation, interrogation and confession. Each lead was chased up with exacting precision. Officer Doyle was immediately promoted and awarded.
His star soon lost its lustre. Billy wasn't promoted above Captain. His fall from grace came from his subsequent missions; crackdowns on subversive groups were performed slowly and inefficiently, the rebels using the slow reaction of the authorities to make good their escape. Officer Doyle stopped leading his men personally, giving over command to junior officers who were often unready for positions of command, men died trying to capture particularly well-armed militant groups. It was no surprise when Captain Doyle's resignation landed on the desk of his senior officer. The man shook his head in dismay at the wastage of such talent and accepted.
Billy's fall from grace was complete, his discharge from the Office of Truth stopping any law enforcement job from being within reach. Using what little information on emergency trauma aid he knew he eventually found work as an apprentice to a medic. When Sebastian heard the news he felt as if he had achieved the greatest triumph that it was possible to achieve.
The angels sang their praises for him that day.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Duane hadn't been able to keep up. His grades had slipped, his usually high standards unrecognisable to him now. His academic abilities had rotted like so many carrots left at the back of a cupboard in a plastic bag. He couldn't concentrate anymore, the facts pinging off his ugly head instead of sinking in like they used to. Nothing he tried could recover it. He hadn't slept in days, he had tried to cram work he could have done in hours normally over the period of 3 nights and he thought he understood even less than what he had begun with, losing the ability to even remember how to make instant coffee. He had missed days, oversleeping because of how long it took him to settle at night.
This was the State. There was no room for slackers. He had lost his grip on things and so barely a week after his official written warning he was forcibly removed from the premises of the university when he had gone back to appeal against his dismissal.
His parents were less than impressed. After having lived rent free with them for years they forced him into the world in an effort to get him to meet it for the first time. Picking up his bright pink lunchbox and a day- glo carpet bag stuffed with enough nylon and polyester to cause a minor electrical storm he checked in to the Salvation Army hostel.
Duane barely noticed. He felt drugged, anaesthetised to a reality that didn't want him. Even his fall from relative respectability barely made him feel anything at all. The sobs of his mother, the yells of his father, the tutts of his professors, the sniggers of his peers, the open hostility of those that he had once labelled as friends. He felt none of it. It was unreal, it was unfair and it wasn't right. It couldn't have happened, not to him.
He was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling of the room he had in the hostel. The tears in the surface exposed the naked beams beneath caused by people ripping sticky tape off posters. The wounds were vivid against the pale green paper, laid in an effort to cover up the inadequacies of what was essentially the roof. He was trying to work out why he cared. It was just a ceiling. He heard the tread of footsteps creaking on the old and rickety planks outside his room, the nails of the boards screaming their protest at the boards. He heard a groan and a creak of old bones as the figure bent down. The figure straightened and walked away leaving a choir of awful carpentry baying at it.
Duane waited until he could be bothered to roll over so he faced the door. As soon as his eyes rested on the letter he leapt from where he sat and snatched it up. Still in his string vest and yellow nylon boxer shorts he knelt reverently as he picked up the envelope and carefully opened it. As soon as he saw the letterhead he was panting. As he read the contents he started to shake, tears flowing freely down his face.
"On behalf of Leisure World International we are pleased to inform you that an appointment within your chosen game has become available."
Stowing the letter carefully back into the envelope he wept tears of joy. His salvation was upon him.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Billy Doyle ran along the beaten dirt path in the municipal park. He laughed as he ran, the air whistling as it eddied in his ears and the satisfying thump his trainers made as the dust scurried away in clouds beneath his feet thrilled him. His arms flailing, he felt a bit faint as his little heart hammered in his body like a muscled ping pong ball in a can shaken by a demented toddler. He could only barely hear the huffing and puffing of Sebastian behind him. He stole a quick look back and he saw Sebastian's face contorted like he had mustard smeared on the roof of his mouth, his eyes squinting in determination, his little knees almost up to his waist as he tried with all his soul to get to that which was his goal, the centre of his focus. It would give him glory untold; bards would compose odes of his triumph as the heavens would open up to let angels fill the earth with their chorus of praise upon the young hero.
'Hah, I win again Sebastian.'
Billy said this as his hand reached out and slapped the bark of the aging sycamore tree, spinning around to beam his triumph as Sebastian stumbled to a halt a few metres short.
'Face it Sebastian, I'm a whole two and five eighths years older than you, you can't hope to beat me.'
Billy panted as he held his knees, taking huge lungfuls of air to recover from the mad rush of strength leaving his body. Sebastian fell onto his front and rolled over, gasping for breath, his face pink with effort. Billy recovered quickly and started to jump on the spot and stretch as his mother walked up with a grin, the lead rolled up in her hand as Amadeus pranced by her side. Amadeus caught sight of Sebastian lying spent and barked, rushing forward to lick his face causing the boy to only splutter his protests. Billy ran to his mother and hugged her.
'You boys been racing again?' she said, tousling Billy's longish hair. 'You should really let poor Sebastian have a chance, you're his big brother. He can't keep up if you're two years older than him.'
'Two and five eighths years older Mummy.'
She laughed and tousled his hair again, helping Sebastian up to his feet. She dusted him down and wiped off where Amadeus had drooled on him and kissed him on the forehead.
'My poor, poor boy. Don't worry, there's always next time.'
His mother's words fell on deaf ears. Sebastian couldn't focus because of the tears in his eyes, the bitter taste of defeat heavy in his mouth. His brother had once again run him into the ground and though his legs ached and his lungs were raw he had once again failed. He knew that this wasn't the last time. He had run his best race and yet Billy had effortlessly turned his best efforts to ash that now filled his mouth, making him feel sick to the base of his gut.
Billy started skipping ahead, 'Come on Sebastian, we'll see if you can beat me in the monkey bars.' He started to run again as the corner turned to reveal the playground but Sebastian felt no joy as it came into view. He had been defeated once more and he hated it every single time.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*
In retrospect it was to be expected. Two half-brothers, raised more or less all their lives in the same house would naturally compete for their parent's affections. It was only a matter of time before the older Billy would want to follow in his step-father's footsteps and be an officer. Sebastian would choose the same. Their education naturally lent itself to near worship of the government and what it stood for and so naturally they would both choose to join CGI, the most famous and elite of the law enforcement arms of the State. Throughout their lives they would compete and jostle for attention and praise. Brothers so alike and yet they looked so different. Billy had his biological father's severe blonde hair and fair skin. Sebastian was dark like his father. They shared the same dark intense eyes that their mother had used to win the hearts of first Billy's father; a mechanic, followed by Sebastian's father; advisor to the Vice Section- Commander of CGI's riot control branch.
James Powell had repaired mainly government vehicles when he fell electrically in love with Billy's mother. Sarah Rickman worked in a bar that he occasionally went to after work, a seedy dive where the clientele were mainly soldiers, transporters and the odd person who used to go just to stare at Sarah and sigh into their beers. She was a heart breaker of the old class, the kind that enjoys a gentleman's company and any gifts they may give but would never stray into immorality. The kind of girl that would let you down in such a way that you couldn't object but you never enjoyed it. Her father owned the bar and many a burly trucker would weep onto his little shoulder as he comforted them after his daughter told them that she didn't feel that she was ready for the kind of commitment they were looking for. James fell horribly, cripplingly in love with her when he first saw her, stuttering his order at the bar. Her father rolled his eyes and pitied the poor fool.
What followed was not as people expected. James regularly slipped hastily scribbled love notes to Sarah as she went about her daily business of smiling at old beau's and waiting at tables. She read them all and smiled, never keeping them but appreciating the gesture none the less. Life for James became horribly complicated. He became wildly jealous of any man who even looked at her with desire resulting in him spending most of his time insane with rage until he went home to spend sleepless nights attacking his pillows.
The real turning point came when he saw someone having a whispered conversation with his heart's desire. The first thing he did was fantasise about smashing his face inside out with a wrench. As he watched he took a half crushed carnation from his inside coat pocket and lay it reverently on her tray. She smiled and thanked him before returning to her post behind the bar and subtly dropping the near-dead flower into a waiting bin. He was elated she hadn't kept it but realised that he needed to give her a token of his own love. But what? More sleepless nights were spent trying to work out what to get, how he could amass the money it would probably cost and how to give it to her. It all came to the happy conclusion of him slipping her a note one day when she served him at the bar wrapped about an aluminium bracelet. The metal was heavily worked, sculpted into sinuous organic curves, little copper flowers hanging precariously off the silvery metal; the result of 4 days work during his breaks in the garage from scraps of metal lying around in the workshop. It was a great deal too wide as he had used his own wrist to get the right shape and the flowers fell off if you moved your hand too quickly but it was a work of love. The next night he went in there it was proudly wedged on the fleshy part of her lower arm, just above the wrist.
And so it began, the mechanic who tortured metal into trinkets to gain the attention of a pretty girl began to see the girl more often. The bracelet started a conversation, a necklace of copper and polished steel earned a dinner, a ring crafted from scraps of jewellery melted in a pot above a bunsen burner in the workshop and inlaid with copper swirls earned her marriage. Eight months after he gave her the bracelet he pledged his vows to love and honour her always as she did to him.
After a year there was born to them a child with a shock of whitish hair like a miniature physicist. For a few magical months their lives were perfect. They moved to a newly developed area in a tiny house that they fully intended to make into the perfect dream home that they had always talked about living in. Billy grew and started to burble, the mumbling and incoherent noises he made somehow making him more loved by all. Life was wonderful for them all.
The day started off like any other. James awoke next to his beautiful wife; her eyes heavy with lack of sleep from waking up to tend to Billy. He knew his own must be as bad. They all three stumbled downstairs and prepared for the day while still only being slightly awake, Billy was toddling about and occasionally needed to be swept up when he was about to fall on his little pudgy face. James kissed his wife on the cheek as he left the house, ruffling Billy's hair on the way past. He was late for work but that hardly mattered as business was slow and it was just a few cars that needed tuning up that he needed to attend to. Sarah blew him a kiss as he walked out of the door and went back to feeding Billy orangey gruel on a small spoon.
That evening Sarah put Billy to bed. The day had been reasonable, nothing unusual. James hadn't returned from work but that happened sometimes. He would get bogged down in dealing with a troublesome engine and spend hours taking it apart and cleaning all of it. It was when she woke up to deal with Billy that she noticed the bed cold and empty beside her. It was the early hours of the morning and still he hadn't come home. It was then she panicked.
Tending to Billy she took him with her as she went first to the garage in which he worked followed by anywhere he could conceivably have gone to. She couldn't find him anywhere. Weeping she walked into her father's bar as dawn rose, her infant son balanced on her hip and grizzling. Her father took her in and sent some people to look for her missing husband.
Sarah was inconsolable. A woman alone could hardly survive living on what little the State had to offer, especially one as untrained as her. Coupled with the burden of little Billy there was little she could do. As days past with no news of James that turned to weeks hopes that he may come back lessened.
In this world people disappeared. It was a fact of life. Your existence was filled with a piety to the state because of what they had created from out of the ashes of the ancient. The state was all. They were salvation. The beginning and the end. The alpha and the omega. Questioning it was unthinkable. If someone went missing it was meant to be. It was for the good of all. The state had a reason to do it and so it was done, end of discussion.
James Powell became another name that only existed in rumours and in the few belongings that were left behind. The customary month rolled by and all of value was taken by the state, apologies given to the widow and the garage allocated to the next person who could prove themselves worthy of owning it.
With nowhere else to go Sarah lived with her father again, tending to the bar as she had done before she had met James. Things were as they were save the truckers were more protective of the girl and the boy waddled around the bar occasionally, providing impromptu entertainment for the clientele.
Just under a year after James had gone Sarah met Major Todd Doyle. He was the tall, dark and handsome kind of man that women have fantasised about since the dawn of time. Todd was an officer of the law; he had power and prestige. The moment he saw Sarah waiting tables at a seedy bar he had come to investigate he knew he fell deep, just as James had a few years before. He completed his assignment, invited the tired but still vividly beautiful lady with him to a restaurant. At first she was reluctant but eventually she gave in to her father's cajoling, her own loneliness and the pressure of Billy's increasing needs as he started to grow. She accepted.
The courtship lasted only a few months before they married. Todd worshipped the ground Sarah walked on. Although Sarah missed James she began to be happy again with Todd, his thoughtfulness and the way he interacted with her son made him all the better. Billy was treated by Todd as his own son. The boy who looked nothing like him was a wonderful child, so inquisitive and beautiful. It was only a matter of time before Sebastian was born to the couple, a child of their union who shared no genes with a missing mechanic. Their precious angel.
The boys were treated well. The best education available was given to them. As Todd was promoted the family's housing and allowance was improved. Todd zipped up the ziggurat of command, his leadership qualities and determination a credit to his department. It wasn't long before he was leading his own division and soon afterwards he transferred to CGI itself. Meanwhile his boys had established themselves as remarkable in the academy, Sebastian as methodical and efficient and Billy as a brilliant and innovative thinker. Billy was a risk taker and was possessed with a confidence and glamour that attracted great respect from all around him. Sebastian was a good person. And that was it.
They both graduated with great honour, both boys receiving immediate offers of a place within various offices of State. Sebastian took up a place in the same enforcement branch as his father had started in, an underfunded but vital part of the daily running of State. Billy was snapped up immediately by CGI.
With news of their son's success a celebration was called for. Nobody noticed that Sebastian wasn't part of the festivities. Curled up in a ball on his bed he wept bitter tears of jealousy as the bass thump of music and dancing feet drifted up into his room.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Who would have thought that such a good child should stray? Sebastian had always been reliable, dependable. The stable one of the family. He worked his way up the ranks in the time honoured way of perseverance, knuckling under, giving his job his all and the old policy of dead men's shoes. Fatalities were common even in his department. His transfer to CGI was after their examination of his flawless service record and outstanding technical competence in the myriad of entrance tests. He continued up the ranks even further than his father had and gained the position of Section Chief itself. He was a great officer, his textbook knowledge of tactics backed up by years of service and an unshakeable faith in the chain of command and the power of the state.
If only his brother could have been like him.
Billy had been a bright star in the department. He was in one of the most front-line and influential divisions, the Office of Truth. His athletic and intellectual abilities at the academy had ear-marked him for such a prestigious position. After further training in tactics, detective work and some of the less palatable skills an investigative officer would need he was deemed ready. His training took well and his first mission went fantastically, his performance outstripping expectations.
The Office of Truth was a sub-branch of CGI absolutely committed to the preservation of democracy at all costs. It was the main counter espionage force and all who served within its ranks swore sacred oaths on their lives and that of their families to protect the council and all it stood for.
An anti-government militant group known as the Libertarians had been developing and had support from grass root organisations; unions of workers and even police were said to be indoctrinated. They had been building a power base for around 3 and a half years when Billy swore his oath. After a lot of careful investigative work so as not to arouse suspicion their headquarters was found in an industrial district, hidden within the offices of a group of welders who had had many government contracts. After claiming responsibility of a bombing that had killed a cybernautic officer it was decided that the time for investigation was over. The young and ambitious Billy begged for the chance to prove his mettle to his senior officer who eventually accepted. With a unit of half a dozen Guardians of Truth he went out into the night to shut down operations at the welding plant.
It took until the next afternoon for the flames to die down to a level that the fire department could handle. The corpses recovered were barely recognisable although it was obvious gunshots had wounded many of them. None of the revolutionary leaders had died in the blaze; they had been seized, bundled into a van and driven to the centre of the local shopping area where they had been kicked out and executed in the street before the evening shoppers. Their bloodstained corpses stayed where they lay for days, any passersby that paid their respects were arrested and questioned by the Office's troops. The sympathisers and supporters of the Libertarians identified during the investigations were seized and questioned, each new name coming out from beneath the electrodes and knives of the questioners brought more to the basements beneath the CGI buildings.
In a scant 2 weeks the Libertarians were completely eradicated. Every lead was ruthlessly investigated, the trails of names and contacts going right up to the elected themselves. In total Officer Doyle was responsible for the purging of 2 of the elected, 16 members of various law enforcement organisations and 49 members of the underground militant group itself. Each death had a book of evidence gleaned from investigation, interrogation and confession. Each lead was chased up with exacting precision. Officer Doyle was immediately promoted and awarded.
His star soon lost its lustre. Billy wasn't promoted above Captain. His fall from grace came from his subsequent missions; crackdowns on subversive groups were performed slowly and inefficiently, the rebels using the slow reaction of the authorities to make good their escape. Officer Doyle stopped leading his men personally, giving over command to junior officers who were often unready for positions of command, men died trying to capture particularly well-armed militant groups. It was no surprise when Captain Doyle's resignation landed on the desk of his senior officer. The man shook his head in dismay at the wastage of such talent and accepted.
Billy's fall from grace was complete, his discharge from the Office of Truth stopping any law enforcement job from being within reach. Using what little information on emergency trauma aid he knew he eventually found work as an apprentice to a medic. When Sebastian heard the news he felt as if he had achieved the greatest triumph that it was possible to achieve.
The angels sang their praises for him that day.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Duane hadn't been able to keep up. His grades had slipped, his usually high standards unrecognisable to him now. His academic abilities had rotted like so many carrots left at the back of a cupboard in a plastic bag. He couldn't concentrate anymore, the facts pinging off his ugly head instead of sinking in like they used to. Nothing he tried could recover it. He hadn't slept in days, he had tried to cram work he could have done in hours normally over the period of 3 nights and he thought he understood even less than what he had begun with, losing the ability to even remember how to make instant coffee. He had missed days, oversleeping because of how long it took him to settle at night.
This was the State. There was no room for slackers. He had lost his grip on things and so barely a week after his official written warning he was forcibly removed from the premises of the university when he had gone back to appeal against his dismissal.
His parents were less than impressed. After having lived rent free with them for years they forced him into the world in an effort to get him to meet it for the first time. Picking up his bright pink lunchbox and a day- glo carpet bag stuffed with enough nylon and polyester to cause a minor electrical storm he checked in to the Salvation Army hostel.
Duane barely noticed. He felt drugged, anaesthetised to a reality that didn't want him. Even his fall from relative respectability barely made him feel anything at all. The sobs of his mother, the yells of his father, the tutts of his professors, the sniggers of his peers, the open hostility of those that he had once labelled as friends. He felt none of it. It was unreal, it was unfair and it wasn't right. It couldn't have happened, not to him.
He was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling of the room he had in the hostel. The tears in the surface exposed the naked beams beneath caused by people ripping sticky tape off posters. The wounds were vivid against the pale green paper, laid in an effort to cover up the inadequacies of what was essentially the roof. He was trying to work out why he cared. It was just a ceiling. He heard the tread of footsteps creaking on the old and rickety planks outside his room, the nails of the boards screaming their protest at the boards. He heard a groan and a creak of old bones as the figure bent down. The figure straightened and walked away leaving a choir of awful carpentry baying at it.
Duane waited until he could be bothered to roll over so he faced the door. As soon as his eyes rested on the letter he leapt from where he sat and snatched it up. Still in his string vest and yellow nylon boxer shorts he knelt reverently as he picked up the envelope and carefully opened it. As soon as he saw the letterhead he was panting. As he read the contents he started to shake, tears flowing freely down his face.
"On behalf of Leisure World International we are pleased to inform you that an appointment within your chosen game has become available."
Stowing the letter carefully back into the envelope he wept tears of joy. His salvation was upon him.