“Less torque on the vault,” she calls out, but her voice is flat and the instruction goes unheeded.
Tonight, she is paired with a Trainee Peacekeeper. At eighteen, the Trainee has already completed her orientation and the first two years of her induction. Less than a year away from graduating into the Peacekeeper ranks, an excited anticipation radiates from her every movement.
A memory of Anaiya’s first night patrol as an orienteer threatens to surface, but she pushes it down with force. Despite her best efforts, the face of Kane 148 flashes in her memory.
She watches the Trainee skip ahead, turning handsprings and repelling off the ten- metre-high walls of Water laboratories in Precinct 11. Something in her high-frequency energy, the easy paradox of inexperience and confidence, murmurs in the depths of Anaiya’s mind. Only weeks ago, she was full of the same energy and abandon, but tonight her free-running is tame, basic. Patrols have a different feel about them now. There is a tension that follows Anaiya, that settles on her shoulders and clouds her periphery. Speed eludes her and anticipation and dread anchor her feet.
The story of Kane 148 runs like a jagged razor along her neural pathways. It mixes with fractured memories to create a tale that is part legend, part myth. Even Anaiya doesn’t truly know where the facts end and superstition begins. She isn’t sure that anyone does. The standard narrative comes to her unbidden, delivered in the clipped tones of the Fire Trainer who had repeated them every day for the entirety of her first year of induction.
Orthodoxy is right belief and right action. Unorthodoxy is wrong action. Heterodoxy is wrong belief.
Unorthodoxy is negligence and recklessness. Heterodoxy is an illness, an unnatural mutation.
Unorthodoxy can be rectified. Heterodoxy can only be terminated.
In the two hundred years since Emancipation and the Establishment of the Cooperative of Otpor, there has been only one case of Heterodoxy.
A flash of colour draws her eyes to the road ahead. The Trainee is like a synthfly, darting ahead before returning just as fast. A whir of limbs, her hair streaming behind her.
Kane 148, a Fire Elemental of the thirty-sixth generation, suffered a brain injury during a common Air aggression. The injury impaired his cerebral apex, mutating his Fire alignment. Kane 148, damaged, developed Earth Elemental tendencies. And became Heterodox.
The Trainee is impatient, frustrated by Anaiya’s stubborn refusal to free-run. Every few minutes, she halts her aerial acrobatics to stare pointedly back at her. Anaiya ignores her, but nonetheless lengthens her stride.
Kane 148’s Heterodoxy deepened. His internal disalignment threatened to disalign the Otpor Cooperative. For his safety, and the safety of Otpor, his Heterodoxy was terminated.
Kane’s Heterodoxy wasn’t confined to him. It was like a virus, spreading to other predisposed Elementals, infecting them. Unlike the viruses borne of synthfly mutations, which transmit linearly and are easily contained and treated, the ‘virus’ of Heterodoxy spread exponentially, gaining mass as it travelled along the networks of those exposed to it, and those exposed to the infected.
Kane 148 was Executed.
The event had been a public spectacle, hosted in the Trocadero and broadcast on all communication channels.
The memory of his face floods her synapses.
Anaiya was, of course, at the Execution; she watched it all from a front-row position. Effortlessly, she recalls how his dark eyes rolled back, filled with a whiteness that saw nothing; how the veins at his temples tensed, engorged with synthetic liquid designed to cure the Heterodoxy and arrest his heart. Silence his mind.
Just as the rise of Heterodoxy had been exponential, so too was its decay. The outbreak reached its half-life in two days and was eradicated within the week. Cut off from the source, the infected were cured.
The Heterodoxy was defeated.
The event had been burned into Otpor’s collective psyche, spawning scores of movies, high-vis wall stories and docutainments that saturate communication channels. Reminding citizens of the horror. Conditioning Elementals back to obedience.
And balance was restored.
Anaiya’s peripheral vision picks up movement as the Trainee approaches the intersection ahead, gaining speed. Running at the wall on the far side, she leaps up and pushes herself off, twisting and repelling to gain access to the high ledge on the wall opposite. Anaiya watches closely, envious of the Trainee and her ignorance of the new Heterodoxy.
The Trainee unexpectedly turns left, following a group of Water Elementals scurrying down a side street. The road veers on an acute angle, hiding them as soon as they pass the intersection. Anaiya picks up her pace and follows the severe line down towards the cluster.
She sees it before she realises its significance.
The Trainee stands immobile at the front of the throng, captivated by the image. Before her, paint drips down the alleletrite wall. The image of the ashen flame is familiar, but here it is isolated, as though cast adrift among the currents of the River Syn. It sits above the other three Elements, raining blackened shards of debris on Earth, Water and Air.
Disunity. Imbalance.
Resistance.
The forbidden word explodes in her mind, spurring her into action.
She moves as a shadow between the bodies, her ears straining to hear the hushed conversations of cowed Elementals. Some have seen other examples tonight in various precincts – the same image tainting walls throughout the Eastern Area. Some speculate quietly about its meaning, attempting to translate the image as a threat or challenge.
“…hubris of the Fire Element…”
The words are muttered with an unexpected aggression, the tone low and sharp. The sting causes Anaiya’s head to whip around, seeking out the speaker.
A mix of Elementals surrounds her – low-level Water Elementals in cheap polyester suits, trainee Air Elementals in gaudy colours and lithe postures, older Earth Elemental labourers coated in dust, and off-duty Fire Infrastructure Protectors with straight backs and folded arms. Despite their differences, most stand with their eyes cast down, some daring to occasionally glance up at the mural but never at Anaiya.
Their reluctance to meet her gaze is not the usual deference to a Peacekeeper. This is avoidance – from fear or anger or…
Resistance.
She needs to take control of the situation quickly. Capturing an electronic copy of the image with her wristplate, she strides to the Trainee. Shaking her from her stupor, Anaiya orders her back to headquarters with a message for the Head Peacekeeper. Watching the Trainee disappear into the distance, she turns back to the scene, finding what she needs with a middle-aged Water Elemental standing at the back of the crowd.
“I need your jacket.”
He nods quickly and shrugs out of it. Keeping his eyes trained on the mural ahead, he extends his wristplate towards Anaiya. She connects to it with her lifeline and uploads the formal compensation note.
With the heavy polyester jacket in her grip, she strides through the crowd, pushing aside the mass of Elementals. She reaches up as high as she can and brings down the thick material across the wet paint. The mural streaks into a dark mess of mangled colours. She turns to the crowd and raises her voice. “Time to move along.”
No longer entranced by the image, the crowd disperses. A few of the younger Elementals throw dark glances over their shoulders. Others huddle together, talking in hushed tones as they retreat. Anaiya returns to destroying the image.
By the time the Forensics arrive, the street is quiet and the Heterodoxy unrecognisable. Anaiya downloads her copy of the image, throws them the paint-sodden jacket and sets off at a sprint without looking back.
Her journey is directed towards her apartment, but she takes an indirect route, weaving through the precincts. She doesn’t free-run, instead preferring the simple rhythm of her feet hitting the hard ground below. With each crash of her foot, each jolt of her body, comes a steady stream of endorphins that should allow her
to control the fire and assess the situation rationally.
Her mind is a tangled web of incomplete thoughts and dangerous images. She pushes herself harder, demanding her legs move faster. A single conclusion is forming in her mind, clawing its way to the surface, threatening to throw her off-balance.
Blood beats loudly in her ears and pain blooms behind her eyes. It all fades in comparison to the incessant cry of her frantic mind.
Heterodoxy is taking hold.
In the days of Kane 148, Heterodoxy had quickly shifted from strikes and protests to riots and anarchy. Stores were looted, buildings torched, Elementals murdered. There had been a rabid thirst back then, as well. An unleashing of some pent-up aggression that had been so carefully contained by the Orthodoxy.
She feels that same aggression leaching from the new cracks in Otpor’s shared consciousness. Feels the weight of its insistence.
A dam ready to break.
* * *
ANAIYA ENTERS her apartment an hour later. Her wristplate glows and reflects off the dark walls. Midnight.
Her pulse is still dominant and her body tense. She focusses on the physical sensations, pushing all other thoughts from her mind. With heavy steps, she makes her way through the apartment, shedding her clothes to leave a trail behind her from the entryway to the bathroom. She doesn’t bother to turn lights on, making her way to the shower by the glow of her wristplate, habit and feel.
She runs a cold shower, stepping in and letting the hard jets of water pelt her skin. Her hair falls like a dead weight down her back, picking up mass as it saturates with the stream of water. Her skin tingles with the cold hail of droplets. Turning her face up, she submits to the oncoming rush of water and closes her eyes.
Within the boundaries of her mind, the mural expands to take up all available room. The forbidden word dominant and menacing. She shivers.
Minutes later, the white noise of the shower is interrupted by the sound of her apartment door sliding open. It bangs back into place with a loud crash. She keeps her eyes closed. Only Fire Elementals can gain entry via any access point, regardless of what Element it is coded to. There are a number of Peacekeepers who feel comfortable enough to enter her unit uninvited, but there is only one who would do so after midnight.
When the footfalls sound on the acrylate tiles of the bathroom, Anaiya turns her head and opens her eyes. As she expects, Niamh stands there, a feral light of energy and abandon shining in his eyes. Without speaking, he undresses.
Anaiya turns back to the water. His body, for a few brief seconds, is warm when it connects with hers. Their sex is intense, but passionless. They don’t speak, focussed entirely within their own heads and bodies, using the act as a way to expel the memories of the night.
This is the way of Fire Elementals. Promiscuous and competitive by nature and nurture, sex is a sport, and a release – the satisfying of higher energies that push and pull them every day. Tonight, Anaiya uses it to empty her brain of all thought and images, centring her consciousness in the act and the tactile sensations that demand attention.
When it is over, Niamh touches the space below her breasts, above her navel. It is where, they are taught, the Fire Element originates in them.
“Control the fire, Ani.”
After he leaves, Anaiya turns off the shower and steps out. She doesn’t bother to dress after towelling herself dry. Instead, she lies on top of her neatly made bed and stares at the ceiling until the dawn light appears.
Her wristplate flashes 0437 against the nascent illumination. Pulling herself out of bed, she steps into the main room of the apartment. Sinking into a worn polyester lounge, she plugs her lifeline into the remote control and presses the top button.
The lounge room wallscreen flashes to life. Out of habit, she pushes the scan button to let the screen run through all the channels. But this morning, all one hundred of them are broadcasting the same thing.
Joshu 820’s face flickers frame by frame as the wallscreen moves through the channels at three-second intervals. The star of the quintessential Kane 148 movie, Joshu has always been synonymous with the ‘Orthodoxy Resistor’, but Anaiya has never found the likeness believable. Joshu’s face is round and full, whereas Kane’s was sharp angles and deep shadows. Joshu is slender and graceful, but Kane was muscular and restrained. Joshu’s eyes carry the same ambivalence and lack of depth Anaiya has seen in countless Air Elementals, but Kane’s eyes – they always burned bright; with intelligence and passion and righteousness. Right up to the moment of his Execution.
Projected on the wall, Joshu slumps against the narrow black polyenamaline pillar, kept erect only by way of the heavy restraints that shackle his neck, wrists and ankles. It is the seminal scene of the movie. Anaiya arrests the scan and the wallscreen shifts from its staccato tempo into the natural flow of the movie.
Joshu, as Kane 148, is lit by scores of floodlights – his face clearly illuminated, his long hair stirring in the breeze that rushes across the city as the sky darkens. Anaiya remembers that breeze, remembers it unexpectedly raising the tiny hairs at the back of her neck as nightfall arrived. Her memories merge with the story unfolding on her wallscreen.
Behind Kane 148, the symbols of the four Elements are projected on the massive concrete plinths. An anonymous voice begins its monologue as three Pathology Technicians stride across the reflective stone floor towards the defeated Elemental.
“In the beginning, there was sickness, violence, hunger, poverty and inequality. Before the Singularity, before Emancipation, there were no Elements and people wandered lost and unaligned. In the Wasteland of humanity, however, there emerged a group of people who saw potential. Potential for humanity to rise above. The Principals discovered and built the path of prosperity, stability and integrity. They created the Cooperative of Otpor and strengthened it with the Orthodoxy.”
The three Water Elementals have reached the screen, where Kane 148 remains silent and unmoving. Simultaneously they reveal their large syringes to the crowd.
The moment is melodramatic, a carnival retelling of the truth, and yet it causes Anaiya’s throat to constrict. She remembers the three Technicians, and, while the syringes were smaller, she recalls how the floodlights had picked up their metallic sheen, causing them to flash like tiny daggers.
Together the Technicians inject the contents of their syringes into Kane 148’s skull. The shot zooms in to show an extreme close-up of his eyes. Pupils dilate – attempting to suck in the vibrant light that engulfs him, even as his life force escapes from them.
“Orthodoxy – the right belief and true knowledge that all humans, born or created, have an innate dominant Element that defines them. An Element that determines their attitudes, perspectives and abilities. An Element that, when properly aligned and strengthened through conditioning, produces maximum productivity and optimal functioning of the individual, the Element and the Cooperative.”
Anaiya tears her lifeline jack from the remote control. The wallscreen blinks to black and plunges her into a darkness that is broken only by the hint of sunlight and the ever-present green tint of her wristplate. She closes her eyes to it and leans back into the lounge.
Kane’s face swells to dominate the darkness. The face of the mentor she had idolised and the traitor she had reviled.
THREE
THE KANE 148 movie replays on an endless loop across all one hundred channels for the next week. Curfews are introduced and additional Peacekeeper patrols are scheduled and implemented. Cardinal Area Commands coordinate among themselves to ensure full Peacekeeper coverage across the North, East, South and West Areas, and by the end of the week, another three instances of Heterodoxy are discovered. Anaiya falls into her bed at the end of each shift exhausted, only to lie there with thoughts of Orthodoxy and Heterodoxy cutting her off from sleep.
This morning, she is patrolling alone. With Peacekeeper resources stretched too thin, the normal protocol of patrolling in pairs has been suspended. She plods through the stree
ts of Precinct 20 with a heavy heart, her eyes scanning the uneven surfaces of building facades tinged brown under the haze-covered sky.
Being the Third Day, the streets are heavily populated with Water and Earth Elementals keeping to their standard working schedule. They stream from the underground caverns that house subterranean public transport stations and meld briefly, forming a heaving mass of diversity and difference.
As usual, the Earth Elementals are rowdier than the staid Water Elementals. They bustle and push, in deep contrast to the orderly ambling of the others. It is not unusual, except…it is sharper, somehow. The weight is heavier.
Weight. She thinks of it now in the context of the Fire Elemental slang. Every crowd, emotion, and situation has a weight – a frequency that relates to its potential for Unorthodoxy. Gatherings of drunken Earth Elementals are heavy; Gatherings of Air Elementals in supplication to the Ultimate Muse are light.
This random, moving collection of Elementals has a weight. A growing charge that threatens to release its energy.
Her eyes scan the crowd, searching for likely triggers: small disturbances that, under weight, can quickly get out of control. Her heart races with anticipation and something else – a quickening, an unsettled tension.
The scuffle seems to erupt spontaneously; a push gone too far, an unsteady foothold. To Anaiya’s left, a cluster of Elementals crashes to the pavement.
Immediately, the weight shifts, ratcheting higher. Anaiya sees the Elementals blink away their contentment and habitual apathy, can see their eyes fill with the base emotions that lie at the core of their Elemental nature – aggression, fear, suspicion, doubt.
It shifts her internal alignment and stokes the frustration and rage within her.
Control the fire, Anaiya.
She moves towards the disturbance, trying to keep her emotions in check, reminding herself this is not a normal situation. She knows that this is just the way of Heterodoxy – taking the primal emotions that motivate Elementals and untethering them, pulling them into a directionless chaos bereft of the discipline that raises them to a higher purpose. Curiosity becomes suspicion, physical strength becomes violence, creativity becomes rebellion, and righteousness becomes rage.
Resistance: Divided Elements (Book 1) Page 3