5
‘A favour?’ thought Jeff ‘She did this to me and expects a favour?!’
Sam echoed his thoughts ‘Look, I know we’ve got no right to ask you for anything after the way you were brought here.’
She moved closer and Jeff inhaled deeply of her fragrance. The deep flowery scent reminded him of the days before The Mishap, when summer days were filled with the aromas of cut grass and flowers. He knew though, that this fragrance was a mere chemical sham.
The high technology discovered after The Mishap had led to a bloom in devices meant to alter human perception. New technology, new forms of drugs, new ways to escape reality. And this perfume was no different. It was fashioned to be the ultimate love potion, with slogans that pronounced how effective it was. It was effective, sure, but not as a love potion. It merely blurred the sense of the victim and distorted the perceptions they got of the wearer. It was hypnosis in a bottle.
These thoughts racing through Jeff’s mind stopped as Sam traced her fingers down his cheek and gently lifted his head back, exposing his neck. Sam saw the rough scar on his throat, a star-shaped mark that offered a pale contrast to the dark skin surrounding it.
‘Hmm…so you’re mute huh?’ Sam asked.
Jeff looked towards her and nodded. It was nothing he was ashamed of. It had happened in the years before The Mishap. Jeff had been working on a faulty mainline valve-head that had been causing problems for the down-flow of oil from one of the wells he was based at. The valve-head, a large, round crimson-red lump of metal bolted down with rivets, had suffered from a hair-line crack near one of the rivet heads. This made the pipeline pressure very unstable and Jeff was working on it when it blew. Shards of metal flew like flak from an anti-aircraft gun, one piece embedding itself in the Roustabouts voice box. He hadn’t been able to talk since.
Sam walked behind Jeff and uncuffed one of his arms from the metal restraints. He pulled his arm free and shook some feeling back into it. When the pins and needles had subsided, Sam placed a small keypad into his free hand. On the pad was a small black rubberised keyboard with an inset optic bulb. As Jeff began to type furiously the bulb lit up and the words began to appear in front of his and Sam’s face.
‘A favour?’ Jeff typed ‘You kidnap me, chain me up and ask for a favour?’
‘I know and I’m sorry. But if we’d just walked up to you and asked you nicely, would you have even stopped to listen?’ asked Sam
‘Hell no! I don’t want anything to do with you damned cultists, even if you paid me!’
‘See, this is where it’s going to get tricky then. We need someone for this mission…someone who isn’t going to be easily linked with us. That someone is you, and like it or not, you’re going to help us.’
‘What makes you say that? I don’t need money, I don’t need sex and I sure as hell don’t need promises of an afterlife!’
‘Don’t you want to know about your brother?’ asked Sam
Jeff looked her straight in the eye, the effect of the perfume fading, being replaced with a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach. During The Mishap, Jeff had lost contact with his brother, separated as were so many other families during that time of turmoil. He had been searching the Registers of the Deceased in every two-bit town he had passed through since the world had resettled. There were no records and after 2 years, Jeff had finally given it up as a lost cause.
The fact that this woman, this cultist, even knew he had a brother caught his interest. He lowered his gaze and began typing again. The words appeared in the air in front of him.
‘How do you know about my brother?’ he typed.
‘Because he’s my husband’ Sam answered
Thursday, 23 August 2007
Monday, 20 August 2007
BDCEMF - Chapter Four
4
Jeff awoke with a start. He hadn’t realised how exhausted he must have been. A glance at his watch revealed he’d been asleep for three hours.
‘Fuck!’ he thought to himself as he sat up and pulled back the CamoBlanket ‘Only a few hours ‘til daybreak and that’s my cover blown’
Stuffing the blanket into his backpack, Jeff ran through a quick inventory checklist, making sure he hadn’t dropped anything on his journey over the Borderwall. After ensuring that his meagre possessions were still there, Jeff slowly walked back to the revolving door he had clambered under earlier that night. Stealthily crawling to the street, Jeff was on guard against any Coffin Slabs, but it looked like the skies were clear.
Referring to a glowing LCD screen on his watch that displayed a map of the area, Jeff headed North down the road. His path was often obstructed by debris from nearby buildings, or the odd abandoned or burnt-out car, but his pace remained steady, devouring step after step. His journey to his next waypoint was uneventful, apart from part of the route being blocked by the collapse of a large building. It was simply a matter of plotting a diversion and Jeff was back on his way.
Jeff reached the next waypoint on his mission within an hour of leaving the office building. As he walked up to the large structure, he saw the glow of lights coming from the broken windows.
‘Strange’ thought Jeff ‘There shouldn’t be any other people here’.
Pausing for a moment to retrieve a small, plastic pistol from his backpack, Jeff slowly moved along the wall of the imposing structure, away from the main entrance. Poking his head around a corner, Jeff saw a rusted metal door, set into a high sandstone wall. Jeff could only just make out the word ‘Maintenance’ painted onto an attached sign.
‘Perfect’ thought Jeff as he made his way over to the door.
Placing the pistol into the waistband of his trousers, Jeff turned the handle of the door. It didn’t move an inch. Rolling his eyes, Jeff opened his backpack and removed a small black cylinder. Twisting the item, a small silver nib extended, much like that of a pen. Jeff drew the nib in a wide arc around the handle of the door, leaving behind a small black line that grew in size, as the metal surrounding the handle became eaten away. The item was a Nano-Cutter, a small tool that deposits billions of Nanobots, specially designed to devour metal.
The handle fell away from the door and Jeff slowly pushed it open. Beyond the entrance was an empty corridor that stretched away into the darkness. Jeff slinked through the gap and closed the door behind him, wedging it shut with a piece of metal he picked up from the ground. The fact that the door was missing a handle wouldn’t hold up to much inspection, but it was much less noticeable than a door that was wide open.
Pulling a small torch from his pocket, Jeff began to move swiftly down the corridor, seeking the source of the lights. He passed several doors, all with signs stating that they were boiler rooms or generator rooms. He eventually came to the door to a stairway. Jeff smiled to himself as he pulled the door open. The building was silent as Jeff left the corridor and began to rise slowly up the metal staircase.
Coming to the same floor he had seen the lights from outside; Jeff slowly opened the entrance door and was met with a shock. The doorway opened out onto a grand marble clad promenade, spotless white walls towering above supported the immense glass roof. The cathedral-like space disappeared into the distance. Jeff was stunned at the sheer purity of the place. After coming in from such a dilapidated area and seeing this, Jeff felt like he had taken the wrong door and stepped into Heaven.
He shook himself out of this illusion and looked closer at the area. The cavernous room was centred on a large black object suspended from the ceiling. As Jeff moved closer, he noticed it was a bank of large monitors, arranged in an inverted pyramid shape, so that they could be seen from any angle. To the right of these lay a large glass wall, that Jeff had not noticed in the dim lighting. Set into this wall was a number of glass doors, all of which were ajar. Jeff could see what looked like a giant piano keyboard, stretch to his left and right as far as the eye could see in this dim light. The white ‘keys’ were continuations of the marble footway, the black ‘keys’ stretches of railway track leading between these platforms and stretching into the distance.
‘Piccadilly untouched.’ thought Jeff as he made his way to the motionless escalators. He wondered how it had managed to escape the devastation that had occurred world wide during The Mishap. It was unheard of to find anywhere like this, especially this close to one of the epicentres of that global event.
‘Then again,’ mused Jeff ‘this is behind the Border Wall. Who knows what else may be untouched?’
He moved stealthily up the escalator, his footsteps barely echoing in the silent station. As he neared the summit, he saw a chink of light swiftly vanish as if a door had quickly been closed. Removing his pistol from the waistband of his jeans, Jeff moved speedily towards the darkened door which had just been closed. Counting down to himself, Jeff held his pistol how he’d remembered the cops in movies held them (back when there were movies).
Reaching zero, Jeff kicked the door in and stepped through, his pistol held outwards.
Standing there, in front of him, with a look of surprise on his face, Jeff saw himself.
Jeff awoke with a start. He hadn’t realised how exhausted he must have been. A glance at his watch revealed he’d been asleep for three hours.
‘Fuck!’ he thought to himself as he sat up and pulled back the CamoBlanket ‘Only a few hours ‘til daybreak and that’s my cover blown’
Stuffing the blanket into his backpack, Jeff ran through a quick inventory checklist, making sure he hadn’t dropped anything on his journey over the Borderwall. After ensuring that his meagre possessions were still there, Jeff slowly walked back to the revolving door he had clambered under earlier that night. Stealthily crawling to the street, Jeff was on guard against any Coffin Slabs, but it looked like the skies were clear.
Referring to a glowing LCD screen on his watch that displayed a map of the area, Jeff headed North down the road. His path was often obstructed by debris from nearby buildings, or the odd abandoned or burnt-out car, but his pace remained steady, devouring step after step. His journey to his next waypoint was uneventful, apart from part of the route being blocked by the collapse of a large building. It was simply a matter of plotting a diversion and Jeff was back on his way.
Jeff reached the next waypoint on his mission within an hour of leaving the office building. As he walked up to the large structure, he saw the glow of lights coming from the broken windows.
‘Strange’ thought Jeff ‘There shouldn’t be any other people here’.
Pausing for a moment to retrieve a small, plastic pistol from his backpack, Jeff slowly moved along the wall of the imposing structure, away from the main entrance. Poking his head around a corner, Jeff saw a rusted metal door, set into a high sandstone wall. Jeff could only just make out the word ‘Maintenance’ painted onto an attached sign.
‘Perfect’ thought Jeff as he made his way over to the door.
Placing the pistol into the waistband of his trousers, Jeff turned the handle of the door. It didn’t move an inch. Rolling his eyes, Jeff opened his backpack and removed a small black cylinder. Twisting the item, a small silver nib extended, much like that of a pen. Jeff drew the nib in a wide arc around the handle of the door, leaving behind a small black line that grew in size, as the metal surrounding the handle became eaten away. The item was a Nano-Cutter, a small tool that deposits billions of Nanobots, specially designed to devour metal.
The handle fell away from the door and Jeff slowly pushed it open. Beyond the entrance was an empty corridor that stretched away into the darkness. Jeff slinked through the gap and closed the door behind him, wedging it shut with a piece of metal he picked up from the ground. The fact that the door was missing a handle wouldn’t hold up to much inspection, but it was much less noticeable than a door that was wide open.
Pulling a small torch from his pocket, Jeff began to move swiftly down the corridor, seeking the source of the lights. He passed several doors, all with signs stating that they were boiler rooms or generator rooms. He eventually came to the door to a stairway. Jeff smiled to himself as he pulled the door open. The building was silent as Jeff left the corridor and began to rise slowly up the metal staircase.
Coming to the same floor he had seen the lights from outside; Jeff slowly opened the entrance door and was met with a shock. The doorway opened out onto a grand marble clad promenade, spotless white walls towering above supported the immense glass roof. The cathedral-like space disappeared into the distance. Jeff was stunned at the sheer purity of the place. After coming in from such a dilapidated area and seeing this, Jeff felt like he had taken the wrong door and stepped into Heaven.
He shook himself out of this illusion and looked closer at the area. The cavernous room was centred on a large black object suspended from the ceiling. As Jeff moved closer, he noticed it was a bank of large monitors, arranged in an inverted pyramid shape, so that they could be seen from any angle. To the right of these lay a large glass wall, that Jeff had not noticed in the dim lighting. Set into this wall was a number of glass doors, all of which were ajar. Jeff could see what looked like a giant piano keyboard, stretch to his left and right as far as the eye could see in this dim light. The white ‘keys’ were continuations of the marble footway, the black ‘keys’ stretches of railway track leading between these platforms and stretching into the distance.
‘Piccadilly untouched.’ thought Jeff as he made his way to the motionless escalators. He wondered how it had managed to escape the devastation that had occurred world wide during The Mishap. It was unheard of to find anywhere like this, especially this close to one of the epicentres of that global event.
‘Then again,’ mused Jeff ‘this is behind the Border Wall. Who knows what else may be untouched?’
He moved stealthily up the escalator, his footsteps barely echoing in the silent station. As he neared the summit, he saw a chink of light swiftly vanish as if a door had quickly been closed. Removing his pistol from the waistband of his jeans, Jeff moved speedily towards the darkened door which had just been closed. Counting down to himself, Jeff held his pistol how he’d remembered the cops in movies held them (back when there were movies).
Reaching zero, Jeff kicked the door in and stepped through, his pistol held outwards.
Standing there, in front of him, with a look of surprise on his face, Jeff saw himself.
BDCEMF - Chapter Three
3
It was getting colder, Jeff noticed. Being used to the constant high temperatures of the Welsh Desert Plains, Jeff couldn’t stand the cooler climate of the inner cities. He was walking down one of the side streets off the main thoroughfare, hoping the narrow road would offer more shelter from the bitingly cold wind. Jeff was still thinking about the scene he had just witnessed, replaying the event over and over in his head, and wishing he could have done more to stop the brutal murder.
‘For fucks sake’ he thought ‘A 714/A is just littering. He didn’t deserve the death penalty for that. Then again, he shouldn’t have run....’
Jeff quickly stopped himself from travelling down that train of thought. It was that type of sentiment that had led to the easy capitulation of New Britain just after the Mishap. Jeff’s minds eye portrayed images of the world during the Mishap. How everything had changed, the shining hope of the future brought to its knees by one single event, one stupid mistake.
Jeff, busy with his thoughts, didn’t notice the group of men skulking behind him until it was too late....too late to stop himself from being knocked unconscious by a blow to the head. Everything went black.
***********************
Jeff slowly became aware of a conversation being held above him.
‘...ouldn’t have brought him here! For all we know he’s a CID!’
‘Don’t be so stupid Nathan; you saw what type of man he is! He practically ran out of the bar as soon as he could!’
‘Who wouldn’t want to get out of there?! I know I’ve never seen you acting chummy around Guardsmen Sam!’
Jeff’s head was wracked with pain. He tried to move his hands to check for any lumps or blood but found they were bound behind his back. He opened his eyes to survey where the hell he was. He was bound to a metal chair in a dingy looking room, with stained, cracked walls and bare floorboards. A lone light bulb swung overhead, with no shade to cover it. In front of him was a wooden door with a round handle and a large lock that looked brand new.
The voices, raised in argument, were coming from the other side of the door.
‘Listen Nathan, I am sick of your attitude at the moment. I know you’re scared, fuck, we’re ALL scared! And we have been since the Mishap.’ The voice Jeff identified as Sam lowered ‘But this man may be the one we’ve been looking for. He can help, I just know it.’
‘Fine!’ said Nathan ‘On your own head be it! He’s your responsibility, he fucks us over, and it won’t go easy for you.’
Jeff heard Nathan walking away and slamming a door behind him. Testing his bindings, Jeff soon realised that he was here for the duration. The chair was sturdily bolted to the floor and the small grubby window was barred. Jeff resigned himself to waiting patiently for his captors to check on him. His thoughts whirled, and not just from the possible concussion.
The usual thoughts of Why, What, How & Where ran through his mind until he eventually gave up, knowing that he didn’t have anything to go on, other than the sparse surroundings and two names. Nathan & Sam.
‘Who? seemed to be the most important question here,’ Jeff mused ‘they must have been in the bar, but there was no-one else there other than the barman and the...’
Then it hit him. His captors must be the members of the Nova Order. The robe-clad members of some cult-like new religion had kidnapped him. Now Jeff just had to wait to find out why.
He didn’t have to wait long. He heard a large key being placed into the lock of the door, and it swung open smoothly. In the entranceway stood a tall, red-haired woman, clad in dusty blue jeans and a smudged cream top.
‘Ah, awake at last. Glad to see you weren’t out for too long.’ said the woman ‘My name is Sam. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you but I don’t think the greeting would be reciprocated’
Jeff’s mouth dropped open. Partly at the sheer audacity of this woman coming across so friendly, but partly for how beautiful she was. It was strangely hypnotic, the way she walked closer to him. Even though the metal bindings were beginning to chafe Jeff’s wrists, even though his head still felt like it was trapped in a vice, Jeff could not help but stare at her blankly.
‘Hey! Up here!’ said Sam, clicking her fingers to wake Jeff from his daze.
Jeff looked up groggily into Sam’s face. His eyes were watering from the proximity of such a vision of beauty. He squinted to try and bring her face back into focus, his concussion beginning to affect him more.
‘Now listen to me...Jeff’ said Sam reading his name from the engraving on his ID Cuff, ‘...and listen closely. You are in one of the Chapter Houses of the Nova Order. You were brought here under my orders and for a damn good reason. But more about that later; right now I need to make sure you are who you appear to be’
Sam walked behind Jeff and retrieved a small dark wooden box with a brass clasp lock on the front. On top of the box was an embossed symbol that Jeff recognised as the embroidered symbol the members of the Nova Order wear on their robes. Sam undid the lock and lifted the lid. Inside the box was a smooth metallic orb, smaller than the ones Jeff had seen accompany the Guardsman in the bar earlier that day.
Sam also retrieved a small keypad with which to control the orb and placed the box to one side. With a press of a small crystalline button, Sam brought the orb to life. It floated serenely in the air in front of Sam, who manipulated the controls to send it gently over to Jeff’s cuffed wrists. A scanning laser shone from a hidden orifice and swept across the brushed metal barcode on the ID Cuff. A few seconds later, the orb returned to its box and nestled into the cut foam interior.
Sam walked back in front of Jeff, perusing the personal information that had appeared on the LCD screen of the keypad.
‘So... Jeff Talbot, aged 32, has been working in the Oilfields of the Welsh Desert Plains for 2 years. Prior to the Mishap, you worked as a Roustabout on oil rigs around the world. Guess you have oil in your blood huh?’ she asked Jeff, to which he merely shrugged
‘Nice photo by the way. Guess there’s not a lot to smile about these days.’ Sam sighed.
She looked Jeff up and down, noticing how the light was tenderly reflected from his dark, smooth skin. Placing the keypad down on a nearby table, Sam pulled up a chair in front of Jeff and sat astride it, resting her elbows on the low backrest. She swept the hair back from her forehead, and Jeff noticed that even in this cool climate, she had a sheen of sweat on her face.
‘Listen,’ said Sam, interrupting Jeff’s thoughts about how she would look with a sweat driven out of exertion rather than warmth.
‘I’m sorry we had to bring you here like we did. It was a nasty thing and goes against our main tenets, but it was necessary. You see, we have a favour to ask of you.’
It was getting colder, Jeff noticed. Being used to the constant high temperatures of the Welsh Desert Plains, Jeff couldn’t stand the cooler climate of the inner cities. He was walking down one of the side streets off the main thoroughfare, hoping the narrow road would offer more shelter from the bitingly cold wind. Jeff was still thinking about the scene he had just witnessed, replaying the event over and over in his head, and wishing he could have done more to stop the brutal murder.
‘For fucks sake’ he thought ‘A 714/A is just littering. He didn’t deserve the death penalty for that. Then again, he shouldn’t have run....’
Jeff quickly stopped himself from travelling down that train of thought. It was that type of sentiment that had led to the easy capitulation of New Britain just after the Mishap. Jeff’s minds eye portrayed images of the world during the Mishap. How everything had changed, the shining hope of the future brought to its knees by one single event, one stupid mistake.
Jeff, busy with his thoughts, didn’t notice the group of men skulking behind him until it was too late....too late to stop himself from being knocked unconscious by a blow to the head. Everything went black.
***********************
Jeff slowly became aware of a conversation being held above him.
‘...ouldn’t have brought him here! For all we know he’s a CID!’
‘Don’t be so stupid Nathan; you saw what type of man he is! He practically ran out of the bar as soon as he could!’
‘Who wouldn’t want to get out of there?! I know I’ve never seen you acting chummy around Guardsmen Sam!’
Jeff’s head was wracked with pain. He tried to move his hands to check for any lumps or blood but found they were bound behind his back. He opened his eyes to survey where the hell he was. He was bound to a metal chair in a dingy looking room, with stained, cracked walls and bare floorboards. A lone light bulb swung overhead, with no shade to cover it. In front of him was a wooden door with a round handle and a large lock that looked brand new.
The voices, raised in argument, were coming from the other side of the door.
‘Listen Nathan, I am sick of your attitude at the moment. I know you’re scared, fuck, we’re ALL scared! And we have been since the Mishap.’ The voice Jeff identified as Sam lowered ‘But this man may be the one we’ve been looking for. He can help, I just know it.’
‘Fine!’ said Nathan ‘On your own head be it! He’s your responsibility, he fucks us over, and it won’t go easy for you.’
Jeff heard Nathan walking away and slamming a door behind him. Testing his bindings, Jeff soon realised that he was here for the duration. The chair was sturdily bolted to the floor and the small grubby window was barred. Jeff resigned himself to waiting patiently for his captors to check on him. His thoughts whirled, and not just from the possible concussion.
The usual thoughts of Why, What, How & Where ran through his mind until he eventually gave up, knowing that he didn’t have anything to go on, other than the sparse surroundings and two names. Nathan & Sam.
‘Who? seemed to be the most important question here,’ Jeff mused ‘they must have been in the bar, but there was no-one else there other than the barman and the...’
Then it hit him. His captors must be the members of the Nova Order. The robe-clad members of some cult-like new religion had kidnapped him. Now Jeff just had to wait to find out why.
He didn’t have to wait long. He heard a large key being placed into the lock of the door, and it swung open smoothly. In the entranceway stood a tall, red-haired woman, clad in dusty blue jeans and a smudged cream top.
‘Ah, awake at last. Glad to see you weren’t out for too long.’ said the woman ‘My name is Sam. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you but I don’t think the greeting would be reciprocated’
Jeff’s mouth dropped open. Partly at the sheer audacity of this woman coming across so friendly, but partly for how beautiful she was. It was strangely hypnotic, the way she walked closer to him. Even though the metal bindings were beginning to chafe Jeff’s wrists, even though his head still felt like it was trapped in a vice, Jeff could not help but stare at her blankly.
‘Hey! Up here!’ said Sam, clicking her fingers to wake Jeff from his daze.
Jeff looked up groggily into Sam’s face. His eyes were watering from the proximity of such a vision of beauty. He squinted to try and bring her face back into focus, his concussion beginning to affect him more.
‘Now listen to me...Jeff’ said Sam reading his name from the engraving on his ID Cuff, ‘...and listen closely. You are in one of the Chapter Houses of the Nova Order. You were brought here under my orders and for a damn good reason. But more about that later; right now I need to make sure you are who you appear to be’
Sam walked behind Jeff and retrieved a small dark wooden box with a brass clasp lock on the front. On top of the box was an embossed symbol that Jeff recognised as the embroidered symbol the members of the Nova Order wear on their robes. Sam undid the lock and lifted the lid. Inside the box was a smooth metallic orb, smaller than the ones Jeff had seen accompany the Guardsman in the bar earlier that day.
Sam also retrieved a small keypad with which to control the orb and placed the box to one side. With a press of a small crystalline button, Sam brought the orb to life. It floated serenely in the air in front of Sam, who manipulated the controls to send it gently over to Jeff’s cuffed wrists. A scanning laser shone from a hidden orifice and swept across the brushed metal barcode on the ID Cuff. A few seconds later, the orb returned to its box and nestled into the cut foam interior.
Sam walked back in front of Jeff, perusing the personal information that had appeared on the LCD screen of the keypad.
‘So... Jeff Talbot, aged 32, has been working in the Oilfields of the Welsh Desert Plains for 2 years. Prior to the Mishap, you worked as a Roustabout on oil rigs around the world. Guess you have oil in your blood huh?’ she asked Jeff, to which he merely shrugged
‘Nice photo by the way. Guess there’s not a lot to smile about these days.’ Sam sighed.
She looked Jeff up and down, noticing how the light was tenderly reflected from his dark, smooth skin. Placing the keypad down on a nearby table, Sam pulled up a chair in front of Jeff and sat astride it, resting her elbows on the low backrest. She swept the hair back from her forehead, and Jeff noticed that even in this cool climate, she had a sheen of sweat on her face.
‘Listen,’ said Sam, interrupting Jeff’s thoughts about how she would look with a sweat driven out of exertion rather than warmth.
‘I’m sorry we had to bring you here like we did. It was a nasty thing and goes against our main tenets, but it was necessary. You see, we have a favour to ask of you.’
BDCEMF - Chapter Two
2
It was three years after the Mishap, a period in which the world was finally settling into its new regime, when Jeff Talbot, a mere Roustabout, walked into the wrong bar. Having secured a substantial bonus for tapping a new oil strike, Jeff was taking a well deserved break from the land-rigs. He had travelled to the nearest town to the Welsh Desert Plains in which he worked; a former industrial hub that now offered more pleasurable things to the discerning purchaser than vehicle parts and iron smelting.
As he walked down the broken asphalt road, skirting around prostitutes and crack dealers all intent upon selling their unseemly wares to the passing citizens, Jeff had noticed an inconspicuous doorway set back from the main thoroughfare. A broken neon sign simply saying ‘EAR- OF - -RE--‘ hung over the shadowy entrance, from which tinny guitar music and blue cigarette smoke spilled.
His ears pricked up as the unmistakeable bastardisation of one of his favourite childhood songs captured Jeff’s interest. With the bonus money burning a hole in his pocket, Jeff followed the distorted notes through the door and into a smoky tavern. With on long bar set to the left of the entrance, and a large Surround Sound video jukebox taking up most of the right hand side, Jeff felt funnelled in to a booth at the rear of the bar.
On a nearby table sat a small group of the new religious sect that had sprung up after the Mishap. Wearing the vermillion robes of their order, the members were huddled over the small round wooden table, playing a complicated looking card game for small brass tokens. Their religion obviously allowed the members to take indulge themselves in some sins, and Jeff couldn’t help but wonder what other transgressions were so easily forgiven.
Taking off his sand-worn leather jacket, Jeff counted out a number of small copper ingots from his pocket. He still couldn’t get used to this new denomination, having been brought up with coins instead of the cold metal cuboids that had been brought in by the New British Mint.
Sighing at his memories past, Jeff stood up from the table and walked steadily to the bar.
A heavy built man with dirty skin and long sideburns stood behind the bar, glancing up at a televised cage fight that was taking up one of the monitors of the video jukebox opposite.
Only noticing Jeff when he heard the clank of metal upon the scuffed wooden surface, the landlord looked his new customer up and down in a disapproving manner.
‘What’ll it be?’ grunted the barman.
Jeff pointed at a bottle of non-descript lager behind the smeared window of an old refrigerator. The barman mumbled a quick ‘Okay then’ and retrieved the bottle from its chilled container. Placing it on the bar, the landlord held out his hand for payment. Jeff pressed a few of the ingots into the barkeeps clammy palm and began to turn away.
‘You know, we don’t get many of your type in here these days...’ said the barman.
Jeff looked him straight in the eyes and raised his eyebrows.
‘Not that way...I mean oilfield workers.’ blustered the barkeep nervously ‘Seems to me that the demand for the wells has been drying up recently. Not that much need for oil now we’ve got the new power is there?’
Jeff merely shrugged and walked back to his booth, leaving the barkeep to mutter curses under his breath. Sitting down at his table, Jeff moved his jacket out from under him and drank thirstily from the lukewarm bottle of weak lager. Trying his best to ignore the wails and shrieks coming from the video jukebox, Jeff’s attention was drawn by the card game still continuing at the adjacent table. The members of the Nova Order (Jeff recognised the embroidered golden symbol on one members robes) were becoming increasingly involved in the fast paced gambling.
Jeff smiled to himself as he reminisced over the games he played with his colleagues on the oil fields. Long nights of boredom were broken up often by the games but, Jeff chuckled, he had earned more in that one strike than he would ever earn from playing cards.
His recollections were rudely interrupted by the door to the bar slamming open. A Guardsman of the new Regime was standing in the doorway, a Taurus semi-automatic pistol in one hand, a lead with a Doberman pinscher in the other.
‘This is a Regime inspection!’ ordered the Guardsman ‘Stay in your seats and present your ID Cuffs. We have reports that there is a violator of New British Ordnance 714/A in this vicinity. You will remain where you are until all scans have been completed!’
Jeff remained motionless as the Guardsman moved to aside to allow two small floating iron orbs through the doorway. Jeff slowly raised his left arm above the table and placed it down, with his wrist facing up. The other citizens in the bar did the same. Jeff sighed at how easily the populace had fit into this new routine. These inspections occurred on a daily basis and it was not rare to see chains of people being led onto a large Coffin Slab for transport to a local gulag.
The orbs floated silently through the air as they scanned the metallic ID Cuffs bound around each citizen’s wrist. One of the orbs was drifting lazily towards Jeff’s outstretched arm when a young man sat across the room from Jeff leapt from their chair and burst through a fire exit at the rear of the bar. Both orbs immediately followed behind him as the Guardsman barked a coded instruction into his radio whilst walking after them. The sounds of gunfire and screams followed shortly as the young man had been brought down by the trained eyes of the Guardsmen standing guard at the other end of the alleyway.
Jeff saw this as his opportunity to leave the bar without any further trouble and he got up to leave, taking his jacket with him. The last thing he wanted was a Guardsman asking him why he was in this type of bar when he was carrying so much money. This was the type of nuisance he was trying to avoid on his break.
Walking at a steady pace through the door, Jeff pulled his jacket collar around his neck as a cool wind blew through the street. Averting his gaze from the Coffin Slab hovering at the roadside, Jeff, sighing inwardly, began his long walk back to the hotel.
It was three years after the Mishap, a period in which the world was finally settling into its new regime, when Jeff Talbot, a mere Roustabout, walked into the wrong bar. Having secured a substantial bonus for tapping a new oil strike, Jeff was taking a well deserved break from the land-rigs. He had travelled to the nearest town to the Welsh Desert Plains in which he worked; a former industrial hub that now offered more pleasurable things to the discerning purchaser than vehicle parts and iron smelting.
As he walked down the broken asphalt road, skirting around prostitutes and crack dealers all intent upon selling their unseemly wares to the passing citizens, Jeff had noticed an inconspicuous doorway set back from the main thoroughfare. A broken neon sign simply saying ‘EAR- OF - -RE--‘ hung over the shadowy entrance, from which tinny guitar music and blue cigarette smoke spilled.
His ears pricked up as the unmistakeable bastardisation of one of his favourite childhood songs captured Jeff’s interest. With the bonus money burning a hole in his pocket, Jeff followed the distorted notes through the door and into a smoky tavern. With on long bar set to the left of the entrance, and a large Surround Sound video jukebox taking up most of the right hand side, Jeff felt funnelled in to a booth at the rear of the bar.
On a nearby table sat a small group of the new religious sect that had sprung up after the Mishap. Wearing the vermillion robes of their order, the members were huddled over the small round wooden table, playing a complicated looking card game for small brass tokens. Their religion obviously allowed the members to take indulge themselves in some sins, and Jeff couldn’t help but wonder what other transgressions were so easily forgiven.
Taking off his sand-worn leather jacket, Jeff counted out a number of small copper ingots from his pocket. He still couldn’t get used to this new denomination, having been brought up with coins instead of the cold metal cuboids that had been brought in by the New British Mint.
Sighing at his memories past, Jeff stood up from the table and walked steadily to the bar.
A heavy built man with dirty skin and long sideburns stood behind the bar, glancing up at a televised cage fight that was taking up one of the monitors of the video jukebox opposite.
Only noticing Jeff when he heard the clank of metal upon the scuffed wooden surface, the landlord looked his new customer up and down in a disapproving manner.
‘What’ll it be?’ grunted the barman.
Jeff pointed at a bottle of non-descript lager behind the smeared window of an old refrigerator. The barman mumbled a quick ‘Okay then’ and retrieved the bottle from its chilled container. Placing it on the bar, the landlord held out his hand for payment. Jeff pressed a few of the ingots into the barkeeps clammy palm and began to turn away.
‘You know, we don’t get many of your type in here these days...’ said the barman.
Jeff looked him straight in the eyes and raised his eyebrows.
‘Not that way...I mean oilfield workers.’ blustered the barkeep nervously ‘Seems to me that the demand for the wells has been drying up recently. Not that much need for oil now we’ve got the new power is there?’
Jeff merely shrugged and walked back to his booth, leaving the barkeep to mutter curses under his breath. Sitting down at his table, Jeff moved his jacket out from under him and drank thirstily from the lukewarm bottle of weak lager. Trying his best to ignore the wails and shrieks coming from the video jukebox, Jeff’s attention was drawn by the card game still continuing at the adjacent table. The members of the Nova Order (Jeff recognised the embroidered golden symbol on one members robes) were becoming increasingly involved in the fast paced gambling.
Jeff smiled to himself as he reminisced over the games he played with his colleagues on the oil fields. Long nights of boredom were broken up often by the games but, Jeff chuckled, he had earned more in that one strike than he would ever earn from playing cards.
His recollections were rudely interrupted by the door to the bar slamming open. A Guardsman of the new Regime was standing in the doorway, a Taurus semi-automatic pistol in one hand, a lead with a Doberman pinscher in the other.
‘This is a Regime inspection!’ ordered the Guardsman ‘Stay in your seats and present your ID Cuffs. We have reports that there is a violator of New British Ordnance 714/A in this vicinity. You will remain where you are until all scans have been completed!’
Jeff remained motionless as the Guardsman moved to aside to allow two small floating iron orbs through the doorway. Jeff slowly raised his left arm above the table and placed it down, with his wrist facing up. The other citizens in the bar did the same. Jeff sighed at how easily the populace had fit into this new routine. These inspections occurred on a daily basis and it was not rare to see chains of people being led onto a large Coffin Slab for transport to a local gulag.
The orbs floated silently through the air as they scanned the metallic ID Cuffs bound around each citizen’s wrist. One of the orbs was drifting lazily towards Jeff’s outstretched arm when a young man sat across the room from Jeff leapt from their chair and burst through a fire exit at the rear of the bar. Both orbs immediately followed behind him as the Guardsman barked a coded instruction into his radio whilst walking after them. The sounds of gunfire and screams followed shortly as the young man had been brought down by the trained eyes of the Guardsmen standing guard at the other end of the alleyway.
Jeff saw this as his opportunity to leave the bar without any further trouble and he got up to leave, taking his jacket with him. The last thing he wanted was a Guardsman asking him why he was in this type of bar when he was carrying so much money. This was the type of nuisance he was trying to avoid on his break.
Walking at a steady pace through the door, Jeff pulled his jacket collar around his neck as a cool wind blew through the street. Averting his gaze from the Coffin Slab hovering at the roadside, Jeff, sighing inwardly, began his long walk back to the hotel.
Sunday, 19 August 2007
BDCEMF - Chapter One
1
Jeff was running....and running hard. It had been five hours since he had scaled the 30 metre high concrete wall that surrounded the remains of Central Manchester. He was sure he had set off at least one proximity alarm as he made his unsteady descent, and the spotlights and blaring klaxons that came on as he descended the last remaining feet didn’t disappoint.
Jeff stopped at the corner of a road where the hollow shell of a large office building offered him some cover from the sight of any passing Guardsmen. Beads of sweat trickled down his ebony forehead as he glanced nervously around the skyline, his starkly blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
What was originally a background humming grew in volume as a large metallic platform, surrounded by a guardrail hovered past the office building some distance above the ground. These Coffin Slabs were just one of the devices brought into existence by the person who had created this state of fear. They were guided by a small group of body armour clad Guardsmen, their deep amber visors reflecting the harsh spotlights mounted to the frame.
These Guardsmen were obviously on the hunt for Jeff, and they were getting closer to tracking him down.
Jeff moved swiftly, but not so much that the Guardsmen stood on the smooth surface of the Coffin Slab would notice him out of their peripheral vision. After clambering under the rusted metal frame of a revolving door, the tall, dark-skinned man stretched his aching limbs and squatted under a slightly singed office desk. Taking his first opportunity for rest since he first approached the Manchester Borderwall, Jeff opened the zip of his torn backpack and took out a bottle of water and a folded CamoBlanket.
Covering himself in the slightly translucent material, Jeff finally felt at ease. The fabric was designed specifically to blend in with whichever background it was placed over, a clever blend of nano-technology and traditional textile manufacturing. Unscrewing the cap of his water bottle, Jeff drank thirstily. The fluid that Jeff imbibed was not water as it was known by people before the Mishap. This liquid contained more minerals & pseudo-chemicals than natural water, but all were created to be beneficial to the human body, as Jeff discovered to his pleasure.
At peace now and finally feeling secure, Jeff began to slumber.....
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