The Future of London Box Set

by Mark Gillespie

  “What’s that?” Walker said.

  “This my handsome friend,” she said, “is a little plant-based escapism.”

  “What do you mean?” Walker said.

  “Ever heard of psilocybin mushrooms?”

  Walker shook his head. “No.”

  “Alrighty then,” Pearl said. “Ever heard of magic mushrooms?”

  A smile spread across on Walker’s lightly bearded face.

  “Aye,” he said. “I think I know where you’re going with this.”

  “Aye indeed my friend.”

  She pointed to the mug at Walker’s feet. “Don’t worry – that’s a level one dose. I figured you for a first timer. The rest of the guys – they’re up to level three and four and I can tell you, they’re back there in the Living Room right now tripping out their little heads. Last I saw, they were looking for Magic Birds on Pax’s phone. Drugs and technology – the perfect combination to help us forget.”

  Walker looked down at the dark liquid. It didn’t look particularly refreshing.

  “That’ll just mellow you out,” Pearl said. “It’ll help you relax. I got the same dose here. I can hang with you, if you like? You know, you shouldn’t spend too much time alone or you’ll end up like Kojiro the urban samurai back there, spouting off all this philosophical bullshit.”

  Walker slid his forefinger through the handle of the mug. He felt the warmth seeping into his hand.

  “Where did you get them? The mushrooms?” he asked.

  “The kitchen,” Pearl said.

  “Funny.”

  Pearl grinned. “It was part of the Ghosts’ Christmas goodie bag,” she said. “They know how much we like them I guess. We crush them up into a fine powder, throw them into some boiling water and that’s it – one rocket trip ride to Heaven. Or a nice little soother, like you got there.”

  “Aye.”

  “C’mon, stop being a pussy,” she said, nudging him on the arm with her elbow. “Drink up.”

  Walker brought the cup to his lips and took a tentative sip. At first he nearly gagged on the foul-tasting liquid. It was like drinking stale warm water with cigarette ash tossed in for good measure. But compared to what he’d just eaten in the Living Room, it was a piece of cake.

  He took another sip, and then another.

  They sat drinking in silence for a couple of minutes. When he was halfway through his tea, Walker heard loud footsteps thundering along the corridor. At first he jumped, startled and ready to leap to his feet and go investigate. But when he heard familiar voices, he dropped back down onto his backside. Looking up at the doorway, Walker saw Pax and Sooper rushing past the classroom, both of them staring at their phones, pointing ahead, and giggling hysterically like a pair of lunatics trying to find their way out of the asylum. They didn’t even notice Walker and Pearl sitting on the classroom floor as they went past.

  “Magic Birds,” Pearl said. She laid her head against the wall. “Hilarious man. Last couple of times we’ve taken a heavy dose, we’ve all ended up like that – drooling at the mouth, running up and down the streets and searching for a fucking diamond encrusted phoenix, or something like that.”

  She took another sip of tea.

  “Life’s funny, isn’t it Walker?”

  “Sometimes,” he said.

  “Are you a virgin Walker?” she asked.

  Walker almost choked on the tea. He spun around to look at her, then turned away quickly again.

  “What?” he said. “Why are you asking that?”

  “There’s no shame in it,” Pearl said. Clearly she had no qualms talking about this sort of thing with a man she barely knew. “Weren’t you just a boy when it happened? Piccadilly? You didn’t have time to get into all that – girls and stuff, right?”

  “Sixteen,” Walker said. “I was sixteen, I think.”

  “I was twenty-four,” she said.

  Walker lifted the mug to his lips. He finished off the rest of the mushroom tea and was sad to see it go.

  Now he was aware of Pearl pressing herself up close beside him. What the hell was going on? She was talking about sex and now they were touching. He wasn’t even sure how she’d scooted across the floor without him noticing.

  What he did know was that she felt warm and good.

  “You’re one of us Walker,” she said. “Congratulations, you passed the test.”

  She put a hand on his thigh and kept it there.

  Walker felt like his body was literally on fire. He wasn’t cold anymore, but he was shaking.

  “It’s turning out to be a day of firsts for you Walker,” Pearl said, turning towards him. As she spoke, her hand ran all the way up the inside of his thigh. She showed no signs of slowing down. Walker watched, his heart racing, his mind hypnotised as Pearl slowly unbuttoned the crotch of his raggedy jeans.

  Somewhere in the distance, Pax and Sooper were laughing hysterically.

  “First time eating human flesh,” she whispered. “First time drinking mushroom tea. What do you think? What else can we do that you haven’t done before?”

  She pushed him gently to the floor with one hand pressed up against his chest. Then she brought her face closer to his. He felt her warm breath on his skin and a soft laughter in his ear that excited him.

  “What else can we do?” she said, a wicked glint in her eyes.

  Chapter 7

  ‘POSTCARDS FROM LONDON’ – Live and Unfiltered

  December 19th 2020

  The man looks into the camera phone. He’s approximately forty years old and dressed in a grey woollen jacket that has seen better days. A border collie sits patiently beside him and as the clip begins, the man pulls the dog closer for warmth, comfort, or both. They’re sitting on a frosty pavement behind a black steel fence that seals off an overgrown park. The haze of orange-yellow streetlights floats down from above, illuminating the ghostly urban surroundings.

  ‘My name is Derek Barrington. I was a soldier before all this and I was proud to wear the uniform of my country. I served in Baghdad for two years. One day there was this mortar attack, about fifteen feet away from my position. I remember this huge explosion and that’s all. I came back to the UK in 2011 with a brain injury and severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Well, that’s hard to explain. It’s like having an injury that you can’t see and can’t show to people. You bring the war back home – it stays inside you and you’re supposed to just carry on.

  I sunk into a deep depression. Pretty soon I’d decided that I didn’t want to live like that anymore.

  When Piccadilly happened, I thought that would be a good time to end it. Who’d notice one less ex-soldier in the world? So I smoked the last of my cigarettes, sitting on a doorway somewhere in London while the world went to pieces.

  That’s when the puppy came running up to me. He came from the other side of the street. Jumping up at me, licking my face – I broke down there and then and everything changed. Just like that, it’s crazy. I wasn’t even thinking about me anymore, it was like – what’s going to happen to this puppy if I die? What if the next person he runs up to isn’t so welcoming? I had some food with me and I shared it and then we ran for cover while London fell apart.

  I felt safe with him. He felt safe with me. Then, a few days later, I found out he was a girl. She must have been somebody’s pet – there was a scar on her belly, which I think was from being spayed. I called her Hope. We’ve made it this far together and now I’ve got one of these phones, I just wanted to let you know if you’re out there Mum – I’m okay. We stay away from the gangs as much as we can and keep ourselves to ourselves. We live one day at a time.

  The man hesitates. Then he looks at the dog and pats her gently on the back.

  We’ll get through this. I’m alive and I love you.’

  Clip ends…

  Chapter 8

  ‘POSTCARDS FROM LONDON’ – Live and Unfiltered

  December 19th 2020

  (Continued)

  …cut to Aileen
Ure, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.

  She’s standing in the Postcards studio, smiling at the camera. Despite the smile, her eyes are nervous – the eyes of someone who despite their position of power is still ill at ease in the spotlight. The sixty-two year old Ure wears her light brown hair swept back from her face – a Thatcher-like helmet that’s held in place by at least several cans of hairspray. She wears a wrinkle-free boxy jacket and skirt, both in the blue colour of her beloved New Conservative Party.

  AILEEN URE: Good afternoon. Wasn’t that a lovely story about the ex-soldier and his dog? How moving. Now I know what you’re thinking. Live and Unfiltered means no interruptions and no talking. So what am I doing here? Well don’t worry. I’m only going to take up a few moments of your time and then there’s going to be more postcards from the good people of London to take you night owls through the witching hours. But I’d like to talk with you first if I may on behalf of the New-Conservative Party.

  Pause.

  AILEEN URE: As you know, there’s a General Election coming up in February of next year. Why are we calling a winter election you may ask? It’s a good question. We know it’s hard for some people to feel motivated to go out and vote in winter months. But considering what our friends in London are up against, we don’t think you’ll mind getting the affairs of our country sorted as soon as possible. That’s because we know you’re as committed as we are when it comes to ensuring that the right party is chosen to take our great country forwards. It’s only the New Conservatives that truly care about the people living behind the M25.

  Another pause.

  AILEEN URE: The situation with London is a difficult one. But we’ve listened to your concerns and that’s why with the help of SKAM’s CEO Rudyard Campbell – one of the kindest, most thoughtful men I’ve ever met – we chose to initiate ‘Operation Reach Out’ earlier this year. It’s because of our dedication and our ongoing commitment to improving living conditions for the Londoners, by giving them mobile phones, that we’re able to bring you shows like Postcards from London. We’re passionate about bringing you closer to your loved ones. We also want to set up a communication system that goes both ways. We want to get your messages to your loved ones so that they can hear back from you. No other political party will be so considerate about the fate of the Londoners, I can assure you. Not only have we laid the foundations for a two-way communication network with ‘Operation Reach Out’, but we’ve also provided them with mental and physical stimulation in the form of advanced video games. The point I’m trying to make is this – we haven’t forgotten these people. These are our people. Your people. We feed them. We give them running water and provide electricity across the city where we can. But we know we can do even better.

  And we will, with your help.

  Vote New Conservative in February. Help us to build an even stronger bridge between the people of London and the rest of the United Kingdom.

  Thank you.

  Chapter 9

  Transcript of a video uploaded to an anonymous Immersion 9 account - posted on December 19th 2020

  The screen is black.

  In the background, simple electronic melodies skip back and forth in a playful and hypnotic frenzy. It’s a strange and basic synthesizer technology, the sort of music one might have heard while walking into a video arcade back in the 1980s.

  The screen slowly lights up. Someone steps forward.

  Sonic the Hedgehog, the popular character created by the Japanese video game developer, Sega, in the early 1990s – is standing in front of the camera.

  An orange glow lights up the room, pushing darkness aside. The electronic music subsides a little. And when Sonic speaks, the voice is familiar.

  ‘This is a party political broadcast by the Good and Honest Citizens.

  It was about five months ago that you last heard from us. Do you remember? We tried to liberate the people of London, at the very least to make them aware of their unfortunate exploitation. But the army attacked us at the M25, forcing us to detonate our explosive devices and so ended a lot of lives that day.

  You called me ‘The Lady’. Why? Was it because I talk well? Had I been a man, would you have called me ‘The Gentleman?’ I doubt it. Back then I was dressed like Chester George to show where my allegiance lay, to show who we were and what we were fighting for. I wanted to tell the world that the Good and Honest Citizens were back. My clothes had meaning that day.

  They have meaning today as well.

  The Good and Honest Citizens have a question for you, Mrs Prime Minister. Why are you really calling a winter election? Is it because you know that most of your voters, the sort of people who would vote New Conservative, will be driving a nice warm car while those who vote for the other lot will have to walk through the cold to the bus stop in order to get to the polling station? It’s a cold winter, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you agree that a winter election is more inclined to bring those who favour your party to the polling station?

  I’d hoped that the M25 incident in the summer would have shown you how passionate we are about the welfare of the people of London. We’d hoped to see something – some indication that you understood where we were coming from.

  What have you done Mrs Prime Minister?

  I’ll tell you.

  You’ve turned the people of London into walking billboards. You gave them video games and now the games companies have free advertising in the biggest shop window on the planet – on the Future of London channel. You use people as political pawns, brainwashing the public, while at the same time sedating the people in London, using Magic Birds and other things to distract them from the horrific circumstances of their lives.

  I see that we’ve had no impact on you whatsoever. What a shame.

  And what do we have now? We have people all over the country, all over the world, sitting down and watching other people playing video games. It’s the very definition of insanity and you profit well from this madness.

  You’ve called this election to solidify your own position. You’re trying to convince the public that you care for the Londoners while at the same time you drug them with technology. You’re praying that the Londoners don’t look up from their black screens because if they do, they might dream a way out of the prison you built around them.

  Yet, people WILL vote for you Mrs Prime Minister. And people will continue to pay one hundred pounds a month for the Future of London channels because the people on the outside are every bit as drugged as those on the inside.

  Congratulations – it is a remarkable, if despicable achievement. But now it must end. We, the Good and Honest Citizens, are sending you a message today. We insist that you withdraw all mobile phones from within London. Disable them, cut off all access and block video games upgrades. Do what you have to do – that is our demand. Do this, and nothing will happen.

  Clip ends.

  Chapter 10

  It was still dark when Walker stepped onto the playground.

  Kojiro was already there, the short sword in hand. He was gliding back and forth on the icy black concrete like a figure skater. Walker could tell by the loose, effortless way that Kojiro was moving that his sparring partner had been out for some time.

  That meant Walker was late. He was in second place that morning and that’s before they’d even started fighting.

  Walker sighed as he trudged over towards Kojiro, his axe swinging at his side. As he walked across the playground, he almost slipped once or twice on scattered sheets of black ice. It was another bitterly cold morning and both Walker’s body and mind were exhausted from the day and night before. So much had happened, with little room for rest in between. Pearl had already left by the time Walker had woken up, half-buried in a thick pile of blankets in his private quarters. The mushroom fog in his head was still there. Unfortunately, so too was the taste of human flesh. It was lingering in his mouth, the never-ending aftertaste. He was especially grateful for the toothpaste tubes that they provided in the Dro
p Parcels. Before setting off for the playground, Walker had brushed his teeth three times.

  Walker approached Kojiro, feeling like a caveman bearing down on a ballet dancer.

  Kojiro stopped practising when he saw Walker coming towards him. His long black hung loosely down his back. He wiped the sweat off his forehead.

  “Good morning,” Kojiro said, smiling. “You have a rough night Walker? I was surprised by your absence this morning.”

  “Aye,” Walker said. His voice was thick and scratchy. “I’m surprised I made it this far.”

  Kojiro laughed. “And how was it?”

  Walker raised a leaden eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “The mushroom tea of course,” Kojiro said. “And whatever else happened.”

  Walker shrugged, like he didn’t know what Kojiro was talking about.

  “Were you tripping last night?” he asked.

  “I was,” Kojiro said. “But I’m used to it. All it does nowadays is help me sleep better.”

  “You didn’t go bird hunting with Pax and Sooper then?” Walker said.

  Kojiro looked at Walker and shook his head. “God no,” he said. “Everyone was looking for Magic Birds except me. Seems like it’s quite the thing these days. Although I do believe Pearl was absent from last night’s hunting party. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  Walker looked away. He felt like a teenage schoolboy whose friends had just found out he’d popped his cherry with the hottest girl in class.