Sector 27- Assignment

by J J Pasinella

  "Not since the last time. After seeing that huge truck rolling down the hillside with all of those armed men surrounding it, I've been too nervous to go back. I don't want them to see me out there." After a short pause Alice continued, "Why were they all dressed in black uniforms with guns? Were they looking for someone out here?"

  "No. They were probably just moving to a different location, that's all. It's like I said before Alice, if you see anything or anybody while you're gathering food and water, find a place to hide as quickly as you can if you aren't able to get away without being seen. You stay there, hidden until they move on. And if you even think anybody has been following you, you come straight back here and tell me."

  "Yeah, yeah, I know, everyone's out to get us, it's us against the world!" Alice replied jokingly.

  "Heh, yeah, us against the world,” the man chuckled, then continued, “But I'm serious Alice. There may still be good people out there, but you can't be too careful."

  "I know, you don't have to worry about me Colonel, I can handle myself."

  After a little while the man said, "Alright good. I'm going to get to bed when I'm done with my soup. You mind taking my bowl over to the bucket for me?"

  "Sure," Alice replied, reaching for the bowl before becoming startled by a sound from outside of the cabin.

  They heard what sounded like the snapping of twigs and pine cones coming from only a short distance away. It seemed like the footsteps were getting closer. The older man slowly stood up, moved his stool over to the side of the fireplace, crossed the room and took a large double-barreled shotgun from the corner by the door. Meanwhile, Alice had taken a bucket of water and poured it over the fire to extinguish its light, leaving only a mound of faintly glowing embers. Then she moved herself into the bedroom and peeked out from behind the doorway. The room was dark and quiet. The two people had never had anyone come anywhere near this place before. It might be an animal, but they couldn’t risk not being cautious. The footsteps stopped in front of the door. The old man gently and quietly pulled back the shotgun and held it to his chest, just inside to the right of the doorway. The door slowly inched open and a small figure passed through the threshold and into the room. It took a step or two forward until the old man lowered the shotgun barrel dead center between the shoulder blades of the person and said, "That's far enough. Don't move a muscle or I'll pull the trigger."

  2.4 (Beyond)

  Caleb stood frozen in place just beyond the open door of the cabin. He felt the steel barrel of the gun resting gently against his back, right between his shoulder blades. For a moment he thought maybe he could run. Who was standing behind him? Was it a Guardian from the grid? Was it a member of an Eco-terrorist group? His mind was racing, and he had quickly forgotten all about the stream, the berry bushes, and the protective forest around him. The only thing he could focus on was the object leaning against his back. It seemed like days had passed before the voice behind him continued, "Walk forward slowly. Keep your hands where they are."

  Having been overcome with shock upon entering the cabin, Caleb hadn't noticed the young woman peeking from around the corner of the doorway ahead of him. When he finally did, he became mesmerized by her. He had never seen a woman before. As he stood gazing at her the voice gave orders again, this time with a more harsh tone than before, "If you value your life, start walking. I'm not going to tell you again."

  This snapped Caleb back to reality as he found his feet and slowly started moving toward the fireplace on the back wall of the cabin. He glanced over at the woman a few times, with a look of confusion and nervousness, as he crossed the center of the room. Their eyes locked and everything slowed down. Her glittering green eyes pierced into the very depths of his soul. He couldn't hide his fear from her. The look that came back from her seemed to be one of reassurance and understanding, and somehow he didn't feel as afraid anymore. "Ok good," the voice said, “Now slowly turn around and sit down on that stool there."

  Caleb obeyed. He turned to find the stool with his eyes while keeping his hands on his head and sat down on it. The old man picked up an old lantern from the small wooden table, struck a match, and lit it. Then he crossed the room with a sense of confidence and control toward the spot where Caleb was seated. The way in which he carried himself made it seem as if he had done this many times before. The man set the lantern on the floor at Caleb’s feet, then took another stool that was near the table and placed it in the center of the room. Caleb's eyes traced the long metal barrel of his weapon, and he had a dreadful feeling wash over and through his mind, that this was just like being back inside of the grid again. Now the moment was fully sinking in, he was at the mercy of this man. His eyes left the barrel, onto the trigger, then the polished wooden butt-end. His gaze crept up the old man's arm and onto his face, then into his eyes. He was almost stoic looking. He had long gray hair that was tied back, and a bushy gray beard. The man's face was calm and still as he studied Caleb's simultaneously. There was a brief silence until he broke back in, "What's your name?"

  "Caleb," he replied.

  "Ok. Caleb. What are you doing here? How did you find this place?"

  Caleb remained silent sitting on the stool, keeping his gaze focused on the weapon.

  "Look son, I can sit here all night. You're going to have talk to me sooner or later," the man urged.

  "How do I know that I can I trust you?" Caleb asked.

  "You don't,” the man said with a smile, “But you aren't in the position to have much of a choice now are you?"

  Caleb continued sifting through his mind, searching for a way to buy some time, thinking of how he could escape. The man sitting across from him looked completely calm and in control. He wasn't anxious or nervous about Caleb's presence there.

  "How do I know you won't kill me after I answer your questions anyway?" Caleb asked, staring the man squarely in the eye.

  "You can't know for sure. You're just going to have to take me at my word.” The man started tapping the gun up and down on his lap, then continued, "How about this: You ask me a question, and I'll answer. I'll do the same for you. Back and forth." The old man continued to study Caleb's face and movements. He kept the gun pointed down at the ground but still at the ready.

  "Alright," Caleb said, “You know my name … what's yours?"

  The old man leaned back a little bit in his stool. "My name is Aaron. Now it's my turn. How did you get here, Caleb?"

  "I walked."

  "Not good enough. I know you walked, I heard you moving through the woods. Where did you come from?"

  After a while Caleb finally answered, "The grid."

  "The grid?" the man asked, studying Caleb’s lab coat, “Do you mean one of the labor sectors”

  "Isn't it my turn to ask you a question now?" Caleb asked softly.

  The old man grinned. Caleb reminded him of someone he knew. "Yes, you're right! Go ahead."

  Caleb looked over at the woman in the doorway, who had begun to inch her way further from behind the corner. He began to feel a sense of security and comfort washing over him. The gun was now resting on Aaron's lap, no longer was it pointed toward him. The woman was slowly revealing herself from the doorway, her curiosity bringing her into the dimly lit room. Even though Caleb was trapped, it wasn't the same type of feeling he had back inside of the grid. "Did both of you escape from the grid too?" he asked.

  The old man ran one hand slowly through his beard as if he was thinking about how he was going to respond. "No. We had to escape from a different kind of place. Ok. My turn,” he leaned forward and studied Caleb's face, "Describe this 'grid' for me."

  Caleb thought for a moment. He was surprised by the fact that even after having lived there his whole life, when asked what it was, he found it very difficult to explain. "It was hell,” Caleb said quietly, as if remembering, “There’s no other way to describe it. People who lived there were forced to work as long as the authorities wanted, and on whatever they desired done. We could be monitored at
any moment. We were prisoners. I hate the grid, and I hate the people who are in control."

  "I see,” Aaron said, "You were in one of the Labor Sectors. Or at least that's what we called them a long time ago."

  "Labor Sectors? How many are there? What do you mean, you called them that 'a long time ago'?"

  "I don't know how many there are. I've been out here for quite a while now. It all started slowly, but once the Inner Circle had gotten a foothold, things sped up. Too quickly for people to even know what had hit them," Aaron said, as he sat more relaxed in the stool. "So, Caleb. How did you manage to escape from one? No offense, but you don't look like the type of person who could have fought his way out."

  Caleb briefly hung his head, a little embarrassed by the remark, then said, "I didn't really have anything to do with it. I had help. All I did was follow directions." He was beginning to feel more and more at ease as he spoke with Aaron. He realized his hands had somehow made their way down to a resting position on his lap. He quickly shot them back up onto the top of his head, but Aaron made a gesture indicating it was ok to leave them where they were. "Where were you when things went bad? How did you get out?"

  "Actually Caleb, my home wasn't in a place that we needed to escape from."

  "So, your home wasn't inside of a grid?" Caleb asked.

  "No, I didn't live in a 'grid' as you call them. I was one of the Inner Circle members."

  "What's the Inner Circle?"

  "They are the authorities, the people in charge. We were a wealthy, elite group. We had spent years buying politicians into power, passing our legislation through to the public. Very few people had the slightest idea what we were doing, let alone that we existed. Our vision of the future was to create a perfect society with no flaws."

  Caleb was stunned. "You’re a Keeper?"

  "Keeper?" Aaron asked, somewhat confused.

  "They are the ones who make all of the rules that we have to follow inside of the grid. My father always called them 'Keepers'."

  "Well...then yes I was. I didn't know this was the vision of the future we were creating. Their policies started getting more and more frightening. They began determining who should live and die. They slowly started setting up all of the individual labor sectors, mostly in uninhabited areas to keep it as secretive as possible. I didn't like the direction they were taking, so when I tried to change their minds they decided I would have to die as well." Aaron paused for a moment before continuing with his question. "How exactly did you manage to get out of the 'grid'? They used to have armed guards swarming the labor sectors when they first began using them."

  "Not anymore. Since they started issuing the pills, they didn't need as many," Caleb replied.

  "When did they start giving out pills? They hadn't done that before. You got out, so they must not work all that well."

  "I never took mine. My father told me not to."

  "How did he know not to take them?"

  "He was a chemist, he helped develop the formula. The people were told it was just an extra set of nutrient pills, but it basically turned them into robots. They did something to the brain."

  "Where is he now ... your father?"

  Caleb looked down at the ground, "I'm not sure. He was taken away a long time ago."

  Aaron, in a comforting tone said, "I'm sorry to hear that. The way things are, we all lose people we love earlier than we want."

  Caleb nodded in agreement. Silence hung momentarily, as if both men were remembering lost loved ones.

  Finally Aaron broke in, "Well, this has been interesting. Now we just have to figure out what to do with you."

  Caleb snapped back to the realization that the gun was still in the man’s lap. "I can just leave. I'll get as far away from you as I can. You don't have to worry about me coming back or telling anyone about you."

  "Where would you go? You have no idea where you are," Aaron asked.

  "I don't know. I'll just keep moving. I’m hoping to come across a group who is fighting against the Keepers."

  Aaron slowly leaned back in his stool and said, "That won't be necessary. You can stay here, at least for tonight."

  "Ok," Caleb said, uneasily.

  "We only have two sleeping bags here, so you're going to have to sleep on the floor without one."

  At this, the woman finally came out from behind the bedroom door frame and said, "No Daddy, he can sleep on mine tonight. I'll sleep on the floor."

  Aaron looked over at her as if he had almost forgotten she was hiding there and said, "Alright. If that's what you want to do Alice, that's fine with me."

  "Thanks," Caleb said, surprised, but grateful for her unexpected kindness, "but I'll be fine on the floor. You keep your sleeping bag."

  "Well then … you're welcome," she replied, with a smile, “My name's Alice."

  "I'm Caleb."

  "It's nice to meet you Caleb."

  "It's nice to meet you too Alice."

  With that she receded back into the bedroom and disappeared. A faint rustling sound could be heard from within the darkness as she cloaked herself inside her sleeping bag.

  "Ok then," Aaron said, "how about you get some sleep."

  "No offense, but I don't think that's going to be too easy to do tonight."

  Aaron laughed, "Well no offense to you, but I'm going to stay awake and hang onto this,” he said, holding up the shotgun.

  It had been a long time since Caleb had been able to talk with anyone other than Andrew. Even given these circumstances, he found himself somewhat happy to be around others like him. People who weren't machines, who were still holding onto their humanity and could think for themselves. Now, more than ever, hope flowed through him. Maybe there were other kinds of people in the world. People willing to give their lives fighting against the Keepers, fighting for their freedom.

  "Oh by the way," Aaron said, "my son was a part of one of the groups organizing against the Inner Circle, or the 'Keepers' as you call them. I haven't seen or spoken with him in a very long time now. A while back he left this cabin and went to join one of the Resistance groups he had come across. How and if he was able to help them at all, I don't know. All that to say, just so you know, there is hope."

  Caleb was filled with a sense of relief. He would find one of these groups eventually, and do what he could to help weaken the grip that the Keepers had over the people. "Thanks," he said, and after a moment of silence asked, "What's your son’s name?"

  Aaron directed his gaze out through a window and off into the distance as he spoke, "My son’s name is Patrick."

  2.5 (Beyond)

  Morning had begun to creep its way into a large decorated bedroom. A man in his early forties slowly opened his eyes and sat up from his place underneath an elaborately designed quilt and red silk sheets. He looked over toward a high vaulted window on the wall to the right of the bed. Sunlight was glowing from around the edges of a set of purple curtains trimmed with gold. The man pressed a button on the wall to the side of his bed and the drapes slowly spread apart, letting in a massive burst of light from outside. He then moved to one side of the bed and placed his feet off onto the soft carpeted floor. There was a pair of slippers in front of an oak nightstand that he pulled toward him with the tips of his toes and slid them into place on his feet. He stood up and let out a contented yawn as he moved across the room to a tray of tea and scrambled eggs atop his reading desk. The room was quiet, and as he poured the tea into his cup, the trickling sound echoed throughout. He looked over at a tall wooden grandfather clock that was standing across the room opposite him. It was 7:10. There was a meeting that he was to attend later that afternoon, but he had plenty of time to enjoy his breakfast and make his way downstairs.

  When he finished eating, he made his way out of the bedroom into a long hallway with marble floors. A row of glass chandeliers hung above his head and elaborate paintings lined the hallway on either side of him. His slippers would let out an occasional squeak as they traversed the cool marble t
iles. At the end of the hall he turned onto a winding staircase leading to the bottom floor of the house. It had gold-trimmed handrails, bright hardwood steps, and more paintings along the wall looping down. As he neared the bottom he could hear the faint sound of a young child’s laughter. He walked down another long hallway, much like the one upstairs, and entered the kitchen at the end. The large open room, brightly lit from the numerous windows placed throughout, made the marble countertops sparkle and shine. "Hey Dad," he heard as he passed through the doorway.

  The man looked over toward a teenage boy of sixteen and said, “Good morning Patrick. How are you?"

  Patrick was very tall for his age with broad shoulders and an animated face. He had thick blonde hair, but he kept it cut down to stubble. His bright green eyes shot a piercing glance into whatever he fixed them on, as if they were trying to probe deeper than the surface. He was very intelligent and had a firm understanding of rightness and justice.

  "Pretty good," the boy responded, “They were talking about one of the Labor Sectors this morning on the Truth Net station. I guess some more small riots broke out," he said, as a concerned look came over his face. "They said that a few dozen people died. Why do the people keep rioting? It always ends the same, they always end up getting hurt or killed. What’s going on inside the Sectors that makes them riot?"

  The man patted the boy on his shoulder and said, "I know buddy. I didn't know it was going to be like this. Things are starting to get out of hand. Some of the people in the group are coming out with some pretty frightening mandates to put in place. Martin and I have been working on something to help the people inside of the Sectors."

  “Really?” Patrick asked, “Like what?”

  "Well, we’ve been trying to figure out a way to change some of the other Inner Circle members' minds. We've been drawing up plans and policies that would make the conditions in the Labor Sectors better. We’re going to present them to the council members today."