"Fucking hell," muttered the man and disappeared inside. Three more World Council troops rushed out of the house. Just as they were wondering what to do about the screaming child, something moved in the open window and a shotgun went off. The aim was deadly accurate. It shattered Tam's nutrition tank and punctured a large hole in his brain. For some reason known only to himself, the man leaned out of the window and took aim at the nearest troop. Using a firearm against a World Council troop was punishable by life imprisonment with no parole. In this case that would not be necessary. In the charter of the World Council it clearly stated that it's troops were forbidden to use weapons or violence against any unarmed citizen. It also stated with equal clarity what action they were permitted to take in these circumstances, and so the man never got to fire a second shot on account of most of his head disintegrating into pulp.
Two of the troops quickly ushered Tam into the vehicle and sped away. One of them was a medic and he knew that going to a hospital was pointless. He disconnected the nutrition feed just in case there was any sensation left. He prayed that there wasn't.
One of the two remaining troops proceeded to have a very difficult conversation with the head of the council.
"I haven't spotted anyone taking photos or video, sir, but if they have then it's too late to do anything about it - they will already have uploaded the images. Even if there is no visual evidence we can't possibly keep this under wraps without breaking protocol and arresting the wife and child and anyone else in the area. Word will spread like a bush fire, even in this place. I think we can safely say that the cat is out of the bag."
"Okay," he sighed, "thank you for informing me. Contact the local police about the neighbour and wait for them to arrive, if they haven't been called already. You know the procedure. I'm looking at the video feed from our vehicle and it looks all too straightforward. You can expect my full support at the inquiry."
"Thank you, sir."
The head of the World Council ended the call and let out a long, deep sigh.
"Well," he said to his colleagues, "you all heard that. By the end of the day everyone in the world will know about the existence of Jars. If we're very unlucky, they'll also have seen live footage of the murder of one of them. So, what the fuck do we do now?"
*****
Three days later Kip, Gizmo, Pixel, Marty, Jed and Swan watched the chaos unfolding on television. At first the World Council had thought that it would not be a total disaster as there was no evidence of anybody having any visual evidence, but then it transpired that a house across the street had external security cameras that had captured the whole thing. When the owner arrived home from work and heard about the events he realised he was sitting on a gold mine and sold the footage to a news network for an untold fortune. Once the network had wrung all it could out of their exclusive story the footage found its way onto the internet and within hours the entire world had almost ground to a halt. There was not a single broadcaster, podcast, chat group or any other form of human communication anywhere on the globe that was talking about anything else. It couldn't have been a bigger story if aliens had landed.
Pixel was distraught to discover that within hours of the footage being released there were several versions of a video game where players chased and shot Jars in gruesomely realistic detail. It was then they discovered that a Jar was still capable of something akin to crying. Gizmo immediately began drawing up plans for the sort of bullet proof casing he had mentioned to the World Council, oblivious to the fact that he was now intent on turning himself into the sort of super soldier they had been determined not to become. Pixel and Swan became increasingly worried as Gizmo, Marty and Jed talked more and more about "fighting back", "going on the offensive", "weaponsing ourselves" and using other unnerving language.
Inevitably the word "Frankenstein" was being bandied about. Religious figures from around the world were forced into public statements, which ranged from patience and tolerance towards all living creatures to Old Testament smiting. There was so much public discussion on the internet that they were unable to do more than skim the surface.
After a few hours Pixel could take no more of it and went off on her own. For the first time in two years she wished that she could sleep. As it was there seemed to be nothing she could do to calm down her mind and shut out the dread that was overwhelming her. Eventually she gave up and was wondering what to do when Kip found her.
"I am no happier about all this war talk than you," he said, "I'm a scientist not a soldier. I hate to say it but I'm afraid this only confirms my view of Americans."
If Pixel could have smiled she would.
"Thank you, Kip, that's the one thing to cheer me up in the last three days. I've always suspected that my husband misses the military and I'm forced to admit that he's enjoying the prospect of a good fight."
"If I could try and strike an optimistic note," said Kip, "the whole world is in shock. I can kind of sympathise - I was in shock myself when I woke up and discovered what they had done to me. Imagine what people thought when confronted out of nowhere with the sight of Tam? You can hardly blame them for panicking to such a degree. However, I believe that given time they will mostly calm down. There will always be people who hate anything that is different from themselves but I am confident that eventually most people will adopt a sensible attitude towards our existence.
"Anyway, I've been thinking that we need to develop a strategy for the future, and I'm not talking about military strategy."
"What do you mean?" asked Pixel.
"Well, for the time being nothing has materially changed for you and me. I wasn't planning to appear in public any time soon even before all this happened, and I'm sure you weren't either."
"No, definitely not," she confirmed.
"So, we continue what we would have done anyway: we hide out here and work on a plan for our long term future. I know this situation is far from ideal but news of us would have come out sooner or later. Now that it has happened in this manner I think the need to manage our public image is more urgent than ever."
"What are you proposing?"
"I think we should record a video."
"We?"
"Yes, you and me. We have different perspectives and, grateful as I am to the others for saving my life, I would rather that my opinions were broadcast to the world before any of them take drastic action and we are forever seen as weaponised robots."
"Are you proposing to discuss this with them or do it anyway?"
"Now that is a question I am currently struggling with. I would value your opinion, Pixel."
She was considering her reply when a considerable commotion reached their digital ears.
"What the hell is that?" said Kip. "It doesn't sound good."
Marty ran into the room brandishing a machine gun.
"We're under attack. Somebody must have found out that there are Jars here. We've alerted the World Council and troops are on their way. I don't know if we can hold them off for long enough. You'd better get to the panic room, Swan is already there." He ran off.
"Follow me," said Pixel moving at top speed.
After a few twists and turns they arrived at a small lift.
"There's just about enough room for both of us, hurry up."
Kip directed his chair and they descended into a concrete cellar where Swan was operating a computer. She smiled bravely.
"Okay, we're safe now, all we can do is watch the killing and hope we win."
Pixel was horrified to hear her daughter talk so matter of factly. She stared at the screen and watched Marty and then her husband emerge from the building. She caught the look in her husband's eyes and her mood dropped even further - he was clearly more intent on attack than defence. All three gasped as Gizmo also emerged into the sunlight.
"What the hell is that?" said Pixel.
"I heard them talking twenty minutes ago about testing a weapon," said Swan quietly, "I didn't think they actually had one ready to go."
"It's some sort of laser," said Kip, "I can't believe they are being so reckless. Do they even know who these people are?"
"No," said Swan, "and they don't care. They have the bloodlust and they're going to kill anyone they set eyes on. One of our perimeter guards has been shot - he'll survive but that's all they need to crank up the war machine."
They watched aghast as Gizmo began to fire the laser and all hell broke loose.
to be continued
marcusfreestone.com
FICTION
THE T14 SERIES
The Memory Man: T14 Book 1
Random Target: T14 Book 2
Just Murder: T14 Book 3
Two Serial Killers, A Wedding And A Funeral: T14 Book 4
Never Kidnap A Serial Killer: T14 Book 5
THE MENTAL SERIES
Brian: Book 1
Gemma: Book 2
Paul: Book 3
The Least Resistance
Ethelbert's Sunday Morning (short stories)
What To Do If Trapped In A Lift With A Dentist (poetry)
NON FICTION
Positive Thinking and The Meaning of Life
101 Ways To Happiness
Tell Depression To #@%! Off
The Psychology Of Happiness: Unravelling Self Help Nonsense By Understanding Your Brain
Donald Trump and Brexit: Misguided Rebellion
101 Completely Made Up Untrue Facts
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marcus Freestone has been publishing novels and non-fiction since 2013. This thing that you have just finished reading (or are unwisely looking at the end of before you've started, tut tut, do people do that with e-books?) is his eighteenth published book. Before that he worked in journalism, a variety of tedious office jobs, completely failed to build a career in stand up comedy and was once paid £250 for a script for a TV series that was never made for reasons that were nothing to do with him or the quality of the script. His biggest success to date has been the 80,000 downloads of the free version of the e-book 'Positive Thinking And The Meaning Of Life' (though he is probably prouder of the time he stole the register from the school library). He will continue writing books until he is too old and tired to do so.
CONTACT THE AUTHOR
Marcus Freestone can be contacted via the electronic telegraph service at
[email protected]
or
Facebook
He does not do twitter because his mind is too hyperactive to cram anything into 140 characters. He tried it once for a few weeks and couldn't see the point of it, and anyway all the #'s and @'s gave him a headache.
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Brain In A Jar: Book 1 Page 6