New Reality 2: Justice

by Michael Robertson

  "And are there?" Florence asked, interrupting.

  The slightest pinch gripped Doug's eyes. "Huh?"

  "Problems… are there ever any problems?"

  Marie stepped forwards. "This place runs like clockwork, Florence. You're clearly a very observant person, I'm sure you'll see that for yourself."

  With a lop-sided smile and a shrug, Doug pointed at Marie. "Like she said; everything runs like clockwork. Now shall we go and look at the nourishment room?"

  As Doug's heels clicked along the floor, Marie took up the rear again. While they walked, she looked from one side of the aisle to the other at the virtually inanimate bodies.

  Just before the end of the ward, Marie's stomach twisted and she stopped in her tracks. There may have been a headset covering the top half of his face, but there was no hiding the fact it was him.

  It was impossible to stop her limbs shaking as she looked at the man. Dressed in white trousers and a T-shirt, she saw his tattooed arms. When she looked at his large hands, the image of one of them holding a severed head came back to her and in her mind, she heard the young girl's scream.

  The headset obscured the top half of his face, but the bottom half revealed his spiderweb tattoo. He may have been under the influence of New Reality, but that didn't make being this close to him any better—the man was, undeniably, a lunatic. Gripped by a hot wave of nausea, it took all her strength to prevent her legs from buckling beneath her.

  A riot of tumultuous phantom birds flapped in her chest before Marie set off again to catch up with the others. Never mind Doug fucking up, she needed to keep her head too.

  Chapter Sixteen

  With a cold layer of sweat on her skin and a shake still running through her, it was probably safe for Marie to assume she looked like shit—even without a mirror. As she followed the others into the next room, her head spun.

  The second she walked through the door, the eyeball-rattling hum of the generators shook Marie's panicky heart. She clamped her hands to her ears and continued to follow the group's lead.

  Before she'd seen the tattooed man, the movie she'd watched in the control room was just that—a movie, but now it was real. The man with the dark fantasies existed; she had been close enough she could have touched him. Why did they have to terminate Jake when they had people like that monster in their care?

  In the middle of the room was a huge vat filled with what looked like glue. The group walked past it and stopped in a secluded corner. They were so close to one another that Marie could both smell and taste Florence's perfume. It was like the cheap air freshener used in public toilets and it took all of Marie's effort not to cough.

  With her hands still over her ears, she watched Doug's mouth flap, but she heard nothing. When she pulled them away, she could just about make out what he was saying over the deep churning of machinery.

  "This is what we feed the prisoners." He pointed at the vat and then at the ceiling. "Those are the food tubes that supply each and every inmate."

  There were hundreds of tubes. As Marie craned her neck to look around the huge room, Florence's flash went off and she jumped in surprise; it was like being next to a tourist.

  "The food is a synthesised balance of all the essential vitamins and minerals a person needs to stay healthy. This stuff is so good for you that we'd sell it to the government if they cared about feeding the poor."

  A cruel smile cracked Florence's face. It seemed that Flo wasn't as politically correct as her colleague, who was currently glowering at Doug.

  Doug walked over to a small tap on the side of the vat, poured a shot of the viscous fluid into a glass, and handed it to Marie.

  What did he expect her to do with it? When she saw three pairs of eyes watching her, Marie took a deep breath and, as her stomach turned, knocked it back. The liquid had the consistency of snot and she gulped quickly to fight the heave.

  Her face must have said it all; Florence and Max were staring at her with a look of horror. She forced a smile and wiped a small amount of dribble from her chin before she said, "That actually tastes quite nice."

  Doug leaned over and patted her on the back. "Beautiful, ain't it?"

  Marie ran her tongue around her mouth; it was hardly beautiful but she had to play the game. "It tastes like honey. I could get used to this."

  Doug clapped his hands again, turned around, and grabbed two gas masks, which he passed to the guests.

  Although Marie held her hand out for one, all she got was a shrug as Doug pulled one more off the shelf behind him. "Sorry, we only have three masks available at the moment." He pointed at the room they were about to go into and frowned. "It stinks in there, so I suggest you wait out here anyway. There's no need for you to come in with us; it's only the incinerator room."

  Before she could reply, Doug pulled the elastic over his head, adjusted his thick black hair, and attached the mask across his face.

  It wasn't until they'd put their masks on that Marie noticed the smell. The funk hung in the air and stank of burning human waste. What if all the answers she was looking for were behind that door? She'd come this far, she had to keep going. "I'd like to see inside, Doug."

  "Really?" Doug said, his words muffled by the mask.

  Marie nodded.

  "Okay, but you're going to need to hold your breath, love."

  When Doug opened the door, the hot stench knocked Marie back. It smelled like it was a gust from an oven that had been baking shit. Marie's stomach turned again but she held her nose in a tight pinch and waited for the others to go in first.

  Inside the room was what looked like a huge industrial oven; although Doug’s voice was muffled, it was still possible to make out what he was saying.

  "This is where we incinerate the nappies. It's a bit gross to have to use adult nappies, but there isn't any other way."

  At that moment, a bot opened the door to one of the incinerators and the furnace roared as the flames tasted fresh oxygen. It then shovelled in a pile of used diapers before slamming the door shut against the deep orange glow that shone through the oven's window.

  "We use the energy generated from burning the nappies to heat the entire prison block," Doug said. "Buying them may be expensive, but we've saved a fortune on energy bills, which, in turn, means more savings for you."

  Marie was sweating so badly that her fingers had turned slippery. When she let go of her nose to wipe her hand, the thick reek found a way in and left a bitter aftertaste on the back of her tongue.

  "Right," Doug said. "I think we've seen enough now. I don't want to make Marie stand in here for longer than she has to. Let's go."

  Glad to accept Doug's suggestion, Marie led the way.

  ***

  Once they were outside and the door to the incinerator room had been closed, Doug replaced the gas masks, walked over to a panel on the wall, and typed in a code. The floor started moving, turning in a large circle. "I'm spinning this room around so we can leave through another ward. I mean, once you've seen one you've seen them all, but I’d like to show you at least a couple of wards."

  Shunk!

  The spinning room clicked into place. When the door opened, they were in another room like the first. There was a long line of white beds down each side. The floor was white. The workers were dressed in white. The bedding was white. Everything was white… except for the tattooed man with angry black lines all over his body lying in the same bed as before.

  Marie frowned before looking at Doug; this was supposed to be a different ward.

  As the other three headed for the ward's exit, Marie followed a few paces behind. Max turned to look at her, then slowed down to allow Marie to catch up.

  Marie forced a smile at him. "So, what did you think, Max?"

  Max stroked his chin and paused for a second before nodding. "Impressive. I didn't know what went on in here before today."

  The urge to turn around and look at the tattooed man again burned in Marie, but she resisted and shook her head. "Me
neither, this was my first time here too. I've only been in the control room for a few months."

  "And do you like it here?"

  It was hard to smile through the chaos of anxious thoughts in her mind, but Marie straightened her back and did it all the same. "I love it."

  The second he turned around, her smile fell from her face and she looked over her shoulder at the man again.

  ***

  After the giant doors had closed, Doug clapped his hands together. "So that was our humble set up, I hope you enjoyed the tour. Are there any questions?"

  Marie had plenty of questions; why did we see the same ward twice, where are the other wards, what are you hiding, Dougie?

  With an arachnid hand, Florence pulled a loose strand of hair from her face and laid it back down against her bob, exactly where it belonged. "Not a question as such, I just wanted to say how impressed I am with the facility. After seeing it with my own eyes, I truly believe that this is the best way to treat our growing prison population. Wouldn't you agree, Max?"

  Max nodded.

  Doug's fat cheeks puffed out and he pretended to wipe sweat from his brow. "Phew! You're a tricky customer, Flo. I was half expecting you to tear me a new one."

  The only reply Florence offered Doug was a tight smile before she turned her back and left.

  Max nodded at the pair and followed her out.

  ***

  As they walked back down the sterile corridor to the control room, Doug moved with a bounce in his step and a click in his heel. "I've still got it then; Flo couldn't resist my charisma."

  Wow! Who was he trying to kid? They would have crashed and burned if she hadn't charmed the shit out of their visitors. "So I'm guessing I've just been paid for that?"

  Doug laughed. "Of course you have! We may run a tight ship with our zero hours contracts, but once you're in, you're in, and we look after you. The trip will go down on your wage slip as time and a half because of the missing gas mask." He winced. "Sorry about that, by the way."

  When they got to Doug's office door, he shrugged. "This is me."

  "It was fun today, Doug." Marie flipped her hair from her shoulders and pushed her chest out. "We'll have to do it again sometime. Maybe in a less formal setting?" There was still a whole lot more information she needed to get from him.

  Doug nodded but didn't say anything, his eyes lingering on Marie's chest.

  "Anyway," Marie said as she winked at him, "I'd best get back to work. See you soon, Dougie."

  Without giving him a chance to respond, Marie walked away from him, wiggling her arse as she went. Whatever he was hiding, she was going to uncover it. Before her bump was too big to hide, she'd have a ring on her finger courtesy of Rixon Corporation.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The warmth of Frankie's hand on her own helped Marie let go of some of her tension while seated in the back of a taxi on their way to Kitty's.

  As the cabbie drove, Marie stared out of the window. It had been three days since she'd toured the prison with Doug and she was yet to get any more information as to why they saw the same ward twice. It was torture to spend time with Frankie and not be able to speak about it. What she needed was more time alone with Doug, but she wasn’t sure how to get it.

  When Frankie squeezed her hand, it broke her from her fugue.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  It was only when she looked at him that she realised how hard she was frowning and she tried to relax her face as best as she could. What could she tell him? That she was thinking about how she could use her sexuality to find out what Rixon was hiding from the world? That she was hoping to expose the most successful company in Nirvana so they could get the money to be married? Nope, she simply nodded instead; Frankie couldn't ever find out what her plans were.

  But he wasn't letting it go. As his dark eyes looked into hers, he persisted. "Are you sure?"

  The thoughts spun through her head like a tornado and all she wanted to do was get them out. But Frankie was the wrong person. If she were to make contact with the woman in the control room, she'd have someone to talk to—someone who'd understand. "I'm fine, Frankie. Honestly, I'm fine."

  Frankie pulled his hand away. They'd touched each other for too long already. Any public displays of affection were risky. They were only flatmates, after all. "You haven’t been yourself today; you’re being pretty quiet," Frankie said.

  With no air conditioning in the taxi, the heat was stifling. Marie leaned forward to stop herself from sticking to the seat and opened her window a slit. The gassy smell of decomposing waste instantly filled the car. The palpable stink forced her to screw her nose up. "I've had a rough week at work. I—"

  When Marie saw the taxi driver watching her in the rear view mirror, she stopped talking; taxi drivers couldn't be trusted. It was one of the better jobs given to people from the estate, and part of the privilege was the willingness to tell the government anything that may be of interest to them. Nothing said in a taxi was private.

  "Well, I think that extra work I was telling you about is going to come through," said Frankie. "I should get a large payment up front."

  Although he was saying the right words, his face was taut with anxiety. The thought of working two jobs was probably getting to him.

  After adjusting her corset, Marie glanced at the taxi driver in the rear view mirror again. Maybe it was an act, but he seemed to have lost interest in their conversation. Which made sense; they weren't exactly saying anything out of the ordinary—everyone worried about money and hated their jobs. That was what living in Nirvana was all about. If anything, he was probably trying not to hear what they were saying. Who wanted to listen to the wealthy complain about money when they lived on the estate and struggled to feed their children each day?

  ***

  Silence had returned to the car, so Marie looked out of the window again and watched the streets fly past. It was a rare opportunity to see that part of the city. Other than in the back of a taxi, the privileged never saw this part of town. Apparently, it was too dangerous because of the estate rats.

  The baby suddenly shifted in her cramped home and Marie covered her small bump with both hands as she chewed the inside of her mouth. Her heart shimmered as if being clenched in a tight grip. What kind of a life was her child going to have? Would they get out of this? What was the second job Frankie was planning? It wasn't like she had a right to push him for more information, especially with what she was hiding from him.

  As they passed a bus stop, Marie stared at the orderly queue waiting for the next bus. The people looked bored and it was hard to see the malicious intent that—if the media were to be believed—ran through all of them. The streets around them were virtually deserted. She shook her head. So much for it being awash with crime on a Friday evening.

  Every time they passed an alleyway, she looked into it. Each one was as deserted as the one before; not a single mugger or rapist was in sight. Nirvana TV must have to search hard to find crimes to report to the city.

  As he released a long sigh, Frankie rubbed his face. "I'm not overly looking forward to tonight, Marie."

  No shit, Marie thought. She laughed and pointed at herself. "How do you think I feel? At least Kitty likes you."

  Frankie's eyebrows pinched in the middle. "I'm sorry." He shook his head and looked at his lap. "You should have stayed home."

  Yeah, right! Kitty would love to be left alone with Frankie all night. "What did you see in her?" It wasn't the first time she'd asked that.

  "I met her at a time in my life when everyone in Nirvana seemed glamorous."

  When the driver glanced back at them, Marie frowned at him and he looked away.

  Frankie shot air from his mouth in a laugh. "Her bullshit was appealing to me at the time."

  "We live and learn, eh?" Marie said.

  When the taxi suddenly stopped, Marie's heart jumped.

  Frankie sat up straight. "What's going on?"

  Marie leaned forwards and
saw a police blockade. "Excuse me," she said to the driver. "Can you tell me what's happening?"

  The driver pointed to a sign that explained he wasn't allowed to talk to passengers; it was against the law in Nirvana… although he didn't have a problem with listening to them.

  A quick headcount and Marie saw there were twelve officers. They formed a semicircle around four people from the estate, trapping them in an alleyway. It was impossible to hear what was being said, but the men and women in uniform leaned over their four cowering victims and jabbed their fingers and batons at them. "What are they doing, Frankie?"

  A sheen had come over Frankie's wide eyes as if tears, although not yet forming, weren't far away. It was a rare glimpse of the pain he carried from his previous life. "It's a shakedown of some sort. I don't know what they're claiming the people from the estate have done, but they ain't happy."

  As the officers tightened their semicircle, their victims held their hands up in submission. One of them pressed his palms together in prayer and his lips moved fast as if he were invoking the compassion of his god.

  The taxi driver blatantly knew what was going on. Marie spoke loudly to try and drag him into the conversation. "Whatever they've done, it must be bad."

  The driver's dark eyes narrowed as they looked in the mirror. He'd taken the bait.

  "The people from the estate have learned how to crack open the garbage disposal chutes," he said. "They now come out at night for the scraps of food that people throw away."

  Nausea rolled through Marie's guts. How could anyone eat the slimy scraps from bins? Before she could think on it any further, the semicircle of officers broke and they rushed forwards. Each man was set upon by three officers, and the air was filled with swinging batons and flying boots. The men from the estate capitulated instantly, but the attack didn't stop.