New Reality 2: Justice

by Michael Robertson

  "I was sitting here, minding my own business, and then I notice that pervert standing over there staring at my tits. I want the manager. Now!"

  The waiter was going to end up jobless if this went any farther. "Is that really necessary, Kitty?" Marie asked.

  Aggression gripped Kitty's features to the point where she looked like a hideous gargoyle. But before she could blast Marie, the manager appeared at the table and rushed over to Kitty's side. "How can I help you, madam?"

  Kitty pointed at the waiter again. "He was staring at my tits, the filthy pervert."

  Every time she referred to her breasts, the other diners in the restaurant turned around. Even with the poor lighting, it was obvious everyone was watching the spoiled cow go off on a pointless tangent.

  The manager's eyebrows pinched in the middle. "Please lower your voice, madam."

  "No! I will not lower my voice." Tears stood in her eyes. "I came here for a birthday meal, not to be harassed by waiters."

  Even Kitty's obnoxious friends sat in slack-jawed silence; her dramatics were on a whole different level.

  When Marie looked at the waiter, she saw he was shaking and his eyes were watering. Why was Kitty so damn cruel?

  As the manager looked around the restaurant, a nervous smile spread across his face. He then returned to Kitty and lowered his tone. "Please accept my apologies, miss. I'll issue a ten percent refund to your bill."

  Just before Kitty could kick off again, the vidscreen in the corner of the restaurant came to life. Silence fell over the room and everyone turned to look at the fake-tanned face of the news anchor.

  "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, Hank Manifesto here, Nirvana TV. Tonight we're bringing you breaking news of another job well done by Nirvana's police force."

  Behind Hank was the footage of the four men Marie and Frankie saw earlier being dragged from the alleyway. The report didn't show how the officers had outnumbered them. In fact, the officers were barely in the shot.

  The sixty-inch widescreen grin of Hank Manifesto filled the screen. The man was maniacal in his celebration of everything controversial. "Parents, please be warned, what I'm about to say isn't safe for children." A warning image of a child covering their ears flashed up on the screen.

  After thirty seconds or so, Hank leaned forwards as if he was sharing a secret. "These four men were found engaged in homosexual activities earlier on today. As a result, the police have taken them away and locked them up. That kind of behaviour shouldn't be happening behind closed doors, let alone on the streets of Nirvana."

  The police beatings had been edited out, and all that was left was footage of the police slamming the door of the meat wagon closed. Another job well done. Another gang of miscreants pulled off the city streets—the truth hidden, yet again.

  A tall, skinny woman, who sat on the other side of Kitty, straightened her back. "John and I saw it all, didn't we dear?"

  John nodded.

  "Disgusting, filthy perverts. It's a good thing we have our force to take care of these kinds of things. They should get paid extra for having to deal with that rubbish."

  The words came out before Marie had thought about them. "That wasn't what happened."

  As the entire table turned to face her, Frankie kicked her in the shin. Marie scowled at him and saw the fear in his eyes. They couldn't be sympathetic to those on the estate; it wasn't the thing to do.

  With the whole room awaiting more from Marie, she laughed it off, her face burning up. "Silly me, I got my times mixed up. I was thinking about a different incident. Sorry."

  After being stared at for a few more seconds, one of the guests pushed their plate of food away. "I can't believe they made us think about this as we were eating. It's disgusting! You'd think they'd ban these kinds of reports at dinner time."

  As the rest of the guests joined in with abusing those from the estate, Marie saw Frankie staring down at his plate, slowly eating his food. For once, Kitty was quiet on the matter, glancing occasionally at Frankie. Surely, it was much more to do with her reputation than his. How could she live it down if people found out she'd had a fling with an estate rat?

  Chapter Twenty

  Marie's body turned to lead the second she entered the control room. Monday mornings were the worst. The longer she spent away from work, the worse she felt about coming back to it. Even the dinner on Friday night with Kitty and her loser friends was more enjoyable than being here. The weekends passed too quickly.

  The sticky residue on Marie's skin—the memory of her sweaty journey to work—prickled against the air conditioning's bite when she stepped into the control room.

  When her blonde co-worker glanced over from her console, Marie made eye contact with her. For a moment, she lingered, holding her stare. How long before the people behind the CCTV camera noticed? What would they do if they did? It wasn't worth finding out. Marie looked away, walked over to her desk, and sat down. A cold chill then snapped through her. After hugging herself for warmth, she put her headphones on and logged onto her workstation.

  As she flicked through the images, she was met with the usual array of projections—violence, sports fantasies, walks in the country, someone reading a book on the beach…

  The screens passed by and Marie was barely aware of her flicking over each one. Instead, she sat and felt the presence of her co-worker. How could she find a way to talk to her when she wasn't even supposed to look at her?

  The sound of a shredded guitar suddenly screamed through the headphones and Marie flinched. Once she'd lowered the volume, she watched a man jump around on stage in front of thousands of hysterical fans—all of them were women. If the state wanted to judge people's innocence without investing any money, they should watch their fantasies in New Reality. The ones hacking people to pieces may be a little guiltier than the fools with dreams of being the next biggest pop sensation. Although maybe not; the prisoner that sleeps soundly in his cell is often the guilty one, after all.

  Marie straightened her back and drew a deep breath. The corset restricted her growing body more with each passing day. Twenty weeks pregnant and she was still forcing the garment closed across her front. When would enough be enough? Was she doing permanent damage to her baby?

  By the time the pop loser had reached the chorus, the music was nothing more than white noise to Marie. The song was shit. When she looked across the room, she saw the blonde woman was looking at her again. Marie turned away, but kept her face tilted enough to watch her in her peripheral vision. She flashed Marie the briefest smile before returning to her monitor.

  Two fingers against the screen and Marie swiped the rock star away. The next image turned her cold—it was the tattooed man. The one from the hideous projection; the one she saw in the prison. Anxiety crawled through her guts. Although it was hardly surprising, it wasn't like she had an infinite amount of inmates to look after. It was inevitable that she would see him again.

  Everything about the man was huge: his shoulders, his neck, his body. He looked ridiculous crammed into the tiny Wendy House.

  Opposite him was a little girl of about six years old who was pretending to make him a hot drink with her tea set. After pouring an imaginary brew from a pot, she handed him a cup. "Here you go, black coffee as you requested." A smile lit up her innocent face as she lifted a tiny jug. "Are you sure I can't get you milk?"

  "Daddy," the man said.

  Confusion shimmered across the girl's face and Marie's toes curled.

  The man cleared his throat, his rough voice sounding like a wet bag of stones dragged across a gravel path. "I prefer it when you call me Daddy."

  After several heavy gulps, the girl flushed red and nodded. "Would you like milk," she paused, "Daddy?"

  The man grimaced and shook his head. "Putting milk in coffee's like putting sand in ice cream."

  The girl frowned. "Why would you put sand in ice cream?"

  "Exactly!"

  The frown remained on the girl's face.

&
nbsp; The already tiny tea set looked minuscule in the man's large and tattooed hands. He pretended to take a sip, his predatory stare feasting on the girl’s diminutive form. "Mmm, lovely."

  Was he talking about the coffee or the girl?

  The girl lit up. "You like it?"

  "Of course I do, Princess. I love it. I'll have to visit more often. Now come and give me a hug."

  The gap between them was no more than a few steps but the girl ran them all the same, spread her arms wide, and jumped into his embrace.

  With her stomach locked tight, Marie watched on. What was he going to do to her?

  "Would you like more coffee?" the girl asked as she curled up in the man's arms.

  "You're a sweet girl. I love you, you know that, right?"

  The girl's smile faltered as she looked into the man's eyes. She seemed uncertain about him, but she also placed her trust in him. He was an adult and she was only a child.

  Marie shook her head and muttered, "No."

  The predator's eyes glazed like a shark's tracking blood and he stroked the girl's long honey-blonde hair. He then leaned in close and sniffed her neck, inhaling her scent. "You smell so good."

  "I… um… I had a bath this morning."

  A shake had taken over Marie's body as she silently mouthed the word, 'no'. What kind of a sick freak has fantasies like this? He was even imagining the child feeling uncomfortable from his attention.

  "I bet you look beautiful in the bath."

  What's wrong with this man? Why should Jake be terminated when this fuck-up's allowed to live? Although Marie reached for the mute button, she wasn't quick enough. Her insides curled when she heard him say, "Can I have another coffee, but can you make it with your panties off?"

  Marie cut the sound, pressed two fingers against the screen and swiped the projection away. None of the actions could dilute the memory seared into her mind. He was a freak.

  A hard exhale and Marie twisted to look at her colleague again. They held each other's stare for longer than any time before. The woman's green eyes projected compassion back at Marie. Clearly, this woman felt her pain.

  The door to the control room then slid open. The smell of fried food entered with Doug. He had a sheet of paper pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Marie removed her headphones and placed them on the desk in front of her. The less time spent with the cursed things on, the better.

  "This is the report from the council. It says how pleased they were with the tour we took them on. They've given us funding for another five years!" While pointing at Marie, Doug looked at the other five workers. "Can I have a round of applause for Marie? What an excellent assistant."

  The room filled with the sound of clapping and Marie forced a smile of appreciation at every one of them. If only the government knew they were being fucked over by Rixon. It wouldn't be long before Marie had all of the sordid details. When she looked back at Doug, her smile broadened. This was the opportunity she'd been waiting for. "What an amazing achievement, Dougie. You should celebrate."

  The room fell silent.

  Marie clamped her hand to her mouth. "Sorry, we shouldn't talk unless spoken to." It was hard to force sincerity into her act, but she gave it a good go. "I got excited. Sorry, Doug."

  Marie pretended to blush and dropped her eyes to the floor as silence ensued and the atmosphere in the room stiffened.

  It was only when she looked back up again that she saw Doug smiling. He then threw his head back, laughed, and pointed at her. "You crack me up. Don't worry; it's a good idea. I'm going to take you out to celebrate. Be ready in half an hour."

  She had him! Marie looked up at him through her eyelashes and pushed her chest out ever so slightly. She then lowered her gaze again. She became a geisha subservient to the alpha male. Let the idiot feel like he was in control. That was the best way to disarm him.

  As Doug left the room, Marie looked back to her blonde co-worker. She'd find a way to talk to her somehow, and when she did, she'd explain everything.

  Marie put her headphones on and turned back to her console. The images in front of her stopped making sense as her mind ran away with her. How was she going to get the information out of Doug? Would she have to fuck him before he spilled the beans? What was he hiding? When she did find out, would Marie's silence be worth twenty-five grand?

  ***

  Marie looked at the clock for what must have been the hundredth time. Only twenty minutes had passed. Time had moved so slowly, it was like every damn second was stuck to the previous one.

  It had been days since she'd had the chance to see Doug last. How would she play it at lunchtime? Flirting seemed like the best way. Use his ego against him; take his libido by the hand and lead it on a merry dance.

  Some men were so stupid.

  ***

  Only another few minutes had passed before Marie logged off. She'd waited long enough. She got up and headed for the door.

  At exactly the same time, her blonde co-worker got up.

  Once Marie was halfway across the room, the slim woman brushed against her. Marie stared at the woman and the woman stared back. What was she trying to tell her?

  After wincing a silent apology, her co-worker dropped her attention to the floor, scuttled over to the fridge, and retrieved a can of soda.

  Marie watched the woman return to her seat. Once she'd sat down again, she waited. Would she give her any hint as to what she was trying to say?

  Apparently not; or if she was going to, she was taking too long about it.

  Marie left the room. What did she just miss? Surely, there was a message in there somewhere.

  ***

  The toilet seat was cold, but the momentary shock passed as Marie lost focus to the wall of white that was the back of the cubicle door. Why had her colleague bumped into her? What was she trying to say?

  Before she could think on it any farther, something caught her eye. It was as if the piece of paper in her top pocket was clambering for her attention. Marie pulled it out and read the note.

  Meet me at the cafe on Station Road tonight at 6.

  GG xx

  GG! Marie's heart lifted. She wasn't imagining it; GG wanted to be friends too.

  After rereading it, Marie folded the note back up and slipped it down her top so it was resting against her left breast. If anyone from work saw that note, they'd be fucked.

  ***

  After her toilet break, Marie returned to the control room to meet Doug. It wouldn't be long; the man prided himself on his timing. The self-congratulatory prick prided himself on most things.

  As she stood in the room, the corset gripping her tightly, Marie looked over at GG again and dipped a nod. She'd be there at six pm.

  A hint of a smile lifted the side of GG's mouth and she turned back to face her console.

  Seconds later, the smell of grease filled the room. The stench caught in Marie's throat, but she swallowed it down and looked at the man.

  It was time to reel in a fat one.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Marie shuddered as she sat in the back of the taxi with Doug on the way to the restaurant. The close proximity to him in such a confined space made her skin crawl, but she had to do it. How many more opportunities would she get to be this close to him? He had the information she needed to make their lives better.

  Despite her discomfort because of her corset and the heat, she slid across the back seat, closer to him and batted her eyelashes. If her tits were on display, the gormless idiot wouldn't notice her discomfort; all she had to do was smile through it. It would all be worth it in the end.

  When she leaned forwards, his attention fell to her cleavage—nothing new there. Although she could feel the letter from GG next to her breast, it was hidden so well he wouldn't see it. "You did great with the government workers the other day, Dougie. Another five years is nothing to be sniffed at." Another thing that wasn't to be sniffed at was Doug; the heat was clearly affecting him and the funk of his body odour fr
agranced the back of the car.

  The praise made Doug sit up straight. "I did, didn't I?" A shake of his head and he laughed. "Flo was a tough nut to crack, that's for sure."

  "Ah," Marie said, "you had her wrapped around your little finger. Your communication skills are the strongest I've ever seen. You should be so proud of what you've achieved with Rixon."

  She watched him closely for some kind of reaction. Surely, he'd give himself away if she probed hard enough. Surely, she could get his secrets out of him. "I don't know how you do it on such a tight budget. I don't know how you manage to keep your staff, the government, and the board happy. You're truly amazing."

  Doug turned to look out of the window. "I used to hang out on these streets when I was a teenager. We weren't supposed to, but we managed to avoid being caught by the strong arm of the law." While adjusting his tie, he laughed to himself. "I was somewhat of a vigilante. The police weren't as good then as they are now, so me and the boys from the rugger team would go and bash in the estate rats on their behalf. We'd catch them scuttling through the streets like cockroaches looking for something to steal. We made quite a name for ourselves."

  What an arsehole! How could he be proud of that? It was hard to force the smile at him when he looked over, his fat face swollen with pride. "Will you to teach me to be like you, Dougie? I want to learn first-hand how you run Rixon so I can be a bigger asset to you."

  Doug looked down and raised his eyebrows. "Your assets are big enough, my dear."

  A forced giggle and Marie rolled her eyes. She punched a light jab into Doug's shoulder. "Oh, Dougie, you're such a kidder. But seriously, will you teach me?"

  Either the letch was choosing to ignore her, or her fantastic rack genuinely sidetracked him. A vacant glaze covered his eyes as he continued to talk to her tits. "You're going to love this restaurant, Marie. It's amazing."