by Nathan Lunn
The centre of the CommLock databanks was far up to the north of the city, and if they managed to destroy it they knew the system would be down for a good few months – this ought to give them ample time to complete their plans in. Unfortunately, security was quite tight, and the CommLock team had assigned a patrolling bot to pass between the rows upon rows of collossal computer stacks, a stun baton in one hand and a handgun in the other. In order to keep the computers ticking at a normal pace, the company appeared to have opted for sub-zero temperatures – cold CO2 was pumped into the room at a ridiculous rate, rendering the environment inside the data stack nearly alien and foreign, and certainly dangerous for the group to get through.
They had armed themselves to the brim with cold dampening clothing: thick synthetic-fur based coats, hats and gloves; constantly running heating jackets underneath to keep the blood moving; and a complicated grouping of various instruments to aid their breathing, all from older models. They had attempted to get a hold of an oxygen distributor each, but down this far on the ground, you were only likely to see those on the airships patrolling the skies. What they had was adequate for a few hours, and so they got to work breaking their way through security in the early hours of the next day, finding it surprisingly easy to get into the building in the first place. Kye had thought it was fairly ironic that the security team had terrible security themselves, though then again, they probably weren't too bothered what happened to their current stacks, as long as their older collected data stayed safe.
Once Danny had got them past the security firewalls and into the building, they suited up and started to creep down the repeating rows of computer stacks, wary at all times for the constantly moving robot that was slipping silently between the plastic columns. Douglass had informed them (though like most missions he had stayed back at the warehouse, sticking to the communication detail) that they should take the robot out first in order to avoid any complications, and so that was what Kye had been tasked with. Julie was on explosive priming – the black packages she had used just a few days earlier were coming into use once more, with a small one placed on each row at the top and bottom, and then dotted throughout the line. Eddie and Danny were both working security; Danny got to work scrubbing the team from the cameras above them, whilst Eddie attempted to manually release the locks on some of the more difficult rooms. Once Kye had dispatched of the robot from behind with a tight fisted punch through its cortical server, sparks dripping to the floor with pneumatic oil as he collapsed to the cold ground – they got to work on their respective challenges. Irritated and cold, they worked like a well-oiled team, the distinctive lack of mistakes noticeable in comparison to their previous job. Before long, they had placed down all of the charges, Danny was up to date and removing them from the security images at a similar pace to those being taken, and Eddie had managed to break into the vault holding the past recordings kept, just in case they needed to remove noticings of Kye and Danny in the Gallant.
They all smirked as they left the databank, confident that the subsequent explosion would knock out the primary CommLock system, and as they lifted off into the air in their borrowed vehicle, Julie activated the charge. A shuddering boom contrasted the beautiful lights show coming from the building, as each charge detonated at the exact same time. A great fireball of spitting reds and dripping oranges flew into the air, smoke and plastic parts tumbling to the floor as the electrical input of the installation went out. Confirming to Douglass, they headed back to the workshop, confident they had weakened the system for at least another few weeks.
11
The funeral was a bleak affair. Sparsely populated and monotone grey, it managed to juxtapose itself: the scouting for a location taking a long while, but the service itself feeling as though it had passed by far too quickly. The weather perfectly matched the tone, with disparate clouds floating around aimlessly, shifting slowly into each other, then moving past without a word. Tumultuous shadows faded in and out, stretching long and dark over the boundless hills of Cemetery Island. Long abandoned by the WestMeri Government, the lack of custodial input had led to an influx of physical wear and tear, perpetrated exclusively by the natural deterioration of the site. Much like the bodies that were rotting in the ground, the island itself was beginning to collapse – held up solely by those that bothered to visit the individual graves, and actually clean them with the kind of care you would only see for a loved one. Cemetery Island was once the perfect location for funerals to take place, but once the population rose too high, and the death toll rose with them, the WestMeri Government outlawed any form of burial, passing confining legislation that allowed only the cremation or neutralisation of a body (a process involving reductive acids and filtration – for those who were happy to pass on without any fanfare). Of course, these were not the only new laws that were passed; a lot of the surviving funeral parlours updated to fit with this new model, limiting their services by only providing them to those who had taken out both life insurance and FuneralCare. For those unfortunate souls who hadn’t the money for either of these things, the WestMeri government let them rot in their own ways, only intervening if those deaths had taken place in a public area. In those cases, they would immediately go ahead with the neutralisation, regardless of what the deceased individual and the people that were busy grieving actually wanted. Neutralisation rates for the WestMeri state were currently at 83% of the population.
Under these challenging circumstances, Kye had to make sure that they were finding a plot of safe land in which to bury Charlie. This task took up the majority of time – winding through the rows upon rows of endless tombstone headers, cracked and covered in vines, but stark white underneath the natural muck and grime. They flew in on their personal hovercar – fully fixed up and running back to usual – landing at the deserted PubliPad set up on the north coast of the island. They locked it when they exited (purely out of routine) and began the long walk up the shattered coastline, salty sea spray from the crashing waves showering lightly over their faces; sharp peekings of concentrated sunlight basking their brow and cutting into their eyes. Tailing behind at a similar pace, flying a few feet above the ground, was the coffin in which Charlie was to be buried. The panelling was a deep red oak, the handles shined with polished gold, catching what light came through, and etched across the lid was a simple ‘CD’, painted in a deep jet black. They walked slowly – a form of polite procession (as was customary back when funerals still took place). The pathway was cobbled together with various coloured stones, smoothed over by the rain and the shoes that had passed by; accompanying them on their left and their right was the grass, enriched so greatly by the decomposing bodies and untouched ground that it could display the same scene of summer all year round – a bright verdant green, sprouting beautiful white and yellow flowers, strong and bright petals that remained entirely visible even near the neverending sea of messy tombstone headers. The smell in the air was a weird one, one that was incredibly hard for Kye to place. It seemed to him to be a convoluted mixture of damp decay and sickly sweet pollen, which made each breath inward a confusing one, as you couldn't know whether to be relaxed or stressed out. Though the island was both lush and bountiful, it was almost immediately obvious what was wrong with the idyllic landscape – not a single animal or insect was visible. Not anywhere on the island. In attempts to maintain the preservation of its residents, the BioArchitects who had designed it made sure that there wouldn’t be any creature who could disturb the natural decay of the dead – using a complex system of hormones released into the atmosphere to draw them away. This didn’t usually have a great effect on the visitors, except for helping to enhance that confusing sense of relaxation and stress. This was replicated all-throughout Cemetery Island, and they got to see a large portion of it as they walked the eight mile trek that wove a complicated path through the upper-northern peninsula.
Nobody interacted for the entire route, including the car ride down, which led to many awkward moments of sil
ence when somebody dared to make a passing comment – perhaps about the weather or something they saw out of the hovercar windows. Danny felt it necessary to comment on the island itself, mentioning that he would rather:
“...be buried near the Burning Sea – I mean, then I could come back as a zombie!” This was received with many eye-rolls and turned heads, despite his protestation of his sincerity.
The quiet was most palpable when they reached the island itself, with no animals to punctuate the perfect hush, they were forced to listen to the sounds of both the wind and the sea. It was excruciating and offered near to no comfort for the grieving colleagues. As they walked under the broken lightposts and bowing oak trees, their feet scuffled into the littered emerald leaves. Even wrapped up in their auto-heat jackets, they were not entirely insusceptible to the cold wind that carried the icicles sharply into their skin like little needles fired from a turret. They appeared from every angle, no matter how much you turned, stinging their flesh with a constant reminder of the temperature.
A few gravestone headers caught Kye’s attention as he moved past, momentarily distracting him from the task at hand: an old man, struck down by a falling news drone, gravestone cracked and neglected; a young woman, overdosed on e-Drine; a couple buried together, gravestone cleared and immaculately cleaned – hooked up with a small solar generator to display their faces against the bright white rock. Kye stopped to stare at them for a moment, contemplating his own parents, thinking they must be here, he just wasn’t sure where. Back at the PubliPad there was a dusty terminal, which he was certain (if he could hook it up to a power source) he could connect to and access the database and map systems; but after pondering it, he knew that the effort wouldn't be worthwhile. He had passed over his chance to visit them almost 15 years previously, and wasn’t looking to do so now. Scowling, he shook the thought out of his head and moved onwards. Finally, they reached the allotted spot.
Charlie was to be buried in a flat area of free land, situated next to a small outcrop of granite that rose out of the surface – tearing through the grass carpet as though it was forced through paper. Just nearby, a small collection of lilac flowers lay, swaying in the freezing wind, unfazed by the shocking temperatures of autumn. The grass patch itself was fairly plain, flattened and muddied a little by the overused route people had taken down it. It was fairly noticeable that there was no grave here, but it looked to be that there was a perfect place for one, and so, bringing out their automated shovels and scoopers, they got to work. Even with the machinery helping, it was long and arduous work, taking up the better half of an hour to complete. Occasionally, you would hear a grunt or a curse as one of the crew slipped, but everyone still continued to keep to themselves. Douglass, not wanting to get involved with the muddied labour, decided to stay up top, near to the clifface. He had brought his own tool with him (though had not carried it himself), and was putting it to good use as the others did with theirs. Luckily, he was using a fully-automated machine – much like the lasers Kye and Eddie had borrowed for the heist, it sat up on the floor (which was not busy moving this time) and drilled into the rock face in front of him, with a small whine that was just noticeable enough to be irritating. They finished at the same time, the groundworkers clambering out of the muddy hole, whilst Douglass flicked a switch to turn off the laser and sat up. Grumbling, they set up Charlie’s coffin over the hole, as it maintained its same distance from the ground, waiting for the command from Douglass’ connected commlink to begin lowering. As they moved into a circle around the coffin, the sun slipped behind a cloud, and the wind died down. Douglass coughed, the crew looked up, and he began to speak.
“We are here today to remember Charlie Dunham. Our beloved friend, colleague, and a member of the family, he will be missed dearly by all of us. Taken far too soon from a family with great malice, he was just beginning to learn the ways of our craft. He would have made a perfect runner. I know that much. Still, we honour him here, with this burial site, marked on this boulder with a design of our own, so he won’t be forgotten or overlooked.”
Kye looked to the rock, barely noticing the smooth surface carved out, and instead fixating on the circle placed in the middle. Inside this circle, there was an almost picture perfect image of Charlie, carved out by the laser to highly detailed precision. It was taken from one of the only photos they had found of Charlie before he joined them – he was smiling widely in it, and there was no discernible background to be seen, just Charlie standing there, looking his happiest. Kye caught his breath in his throat, as Douglass went on.
“He came to us in an unusual way, that’s for sure.” Julie let out a desperate laugh, tears in her eyes. “I caught him stealing from our office, scavenging around the back filing cabinet for some food – the little kid was hungry, and desperate. His parents weren’t around, both were conscripted to the war about a month back. No-one was there for him. So, as you all know, I decided to give him a job instead of reprimanding him, taking him on as an apprentice of sorts for the crew. You all took to him immediately, and he took to you. It was hard not to. It’s a great shame he has been taken from us, and taken from the world, but it’s important to make it known that we will not forget about him, and that we will not allow his death to be in vain.” Nods ran around the grave as his colleagues agreed with him. He finished by placing his hand over the coffin, his other over his temple and pressing slowly. The red box began to descend, as each person, poised on the edge, placed their hand over the box, and opened their palms. Particles of dirt, clumps of shredded grass and crumpled petals fell the six feet before they landed atop the lid, sprinkles of mud obscuring the small ‘CD’. Douglass looked up, put away his glasses and said, “Would anyone like to say anything?”
Eddie and Danny both stepped forward. Together, they spoke, Eddie first.
“We got on well, Charlie and I. He was always up to help with the newest machine I was busy working on. But now, I gotta work on my own stuff, pick up my own tools, I suppose. And that’s not easy.”
Danny went second. “He was a good kid. I’ll miss him a lot. I hope we can remember the little bugger properly.”
They both stepped back, mouths tightly shut, having said their part. Douglass motioned to Julie, who was distractedly sniffling at the head of the grave, and didn’t notice his hand waving lightly towards her. He reached over and tapped her arm, causing her to jump. She wiped her eyes and nose, and looked up, beginning to talk.
“Oh, I was… sorry. I’ll go now.” She was muttering slightly, her words snatched away by the wind as she spoke them. “I’m sure Clara would have liked to have said something if she was here. I tried to get a hold of her, I did, but she wasn’t picking up for some reason. Severing contact, I suppose. Though she’s gone, I’m sure she would share similar feelings.” Julie stepped forward, giving a quick glance to the gravestone, before she raised her voice and continued, “I met Charlie, like the rest of you, when he first joined our group. He was just a little kid, but we all thought of him as part of our family. Me, especially – as you all know, I lost my brother a few years back to the war as well.” She stopped a moment, head cast to the ground in silent remorse. “It was easy for us to bond, and even easier for me to see him as one of my own. He had… a similar sense of humour, I guess. Always laughing about this or the other. Some wild scheme.” Laughter rippled around the hole, as each person remembered their own various stories about Charlie. Kye, a warm smile crossing his face, remembered all the trips to the arcade, going to see the latest movies at the run-down reminiscent picture parlour together, before his memories turned from happy to wistful, as he realised that he would really never be seeing him again. A tear started to well up as Julie finished up her speech, “We’re all gonna miss him really. I loved him. Hope he rests in peace.”
It was Kye’s turn to say something. He was not nearly prepared enough, though he felt as though he never would truly be. Clearing his throat, he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, raised it for
the group to see, and began to speak.
“This is a ticket from mine and Charlie’s most recent visit to the arcade. I found it in my trousers on the way over here, just by pure accident, when I wanted to warm my hands up in my pockets. It was a surprise to see, you know? I always spend all of my tickets, so I was confused as to why this was with me and not with Charlie. On this trip in particular, though, I think I was upset about something, it doesn’t seem really as important now – and, Charlie gave me this one ticket right before we left to go home. Do you know what he said? He just said to me: ‘Because you looked sad’. That was it. And I did, I’m sure. I’ve been told many times that I have a certain noticeable face whenever my mood changes. But he picked up on it too. Just a kid, but a compassionate one. Always caught onto people’s true feelings. Probably why we connected so well – feelings. He was orphaned, I didn’t see my parents. I don’t know, we found solace in each other.” He folded the ticket back into his pocket, fist clenched. Continuing, he said, “So imaginative about the world, but so curious for how it was really run. I always wanted to keep that side away from him, the real side, the darker side of the world – he was innocent, he didn’t have to see the evil – but, I guess it’s not possible anymore, these days..” His voice started to rise with his temper. “You try your hardest to keep the shit away, but the longer you wait and the harder you try, the more likely it’s gonna be that it just blows up in your face!” Everyone jumped as he shouted, shattering the serene peace of the island. All his anger drained in that one moment, deflating his body to a husk of its previous stature. Contrition spread over his face as he wilted. “I’m sorry. It’s hard for me to deal with it, but that’s no excuse. I know. Nothing I’ve done is an excuse.” He looked quickly to Julie, before a tear ran down his face. “He was my friend. My apprentice!” He let out a final weak chuckle. “And now, he’s gone.”