The Biomass Revolution ttc-1

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  A short break in the music revealed the sound of his heart beating rapidly, the pulse pounding in his skull. He wiped a bead of sweat off his flushed face and brushed his hair back into place before making his way towards her.

  With a half smile, he grabbed her softly by the wrist. She paused, turning as her eyes locked with his. Instantly she recognized him. “Spurious, it’s so good to see you!” she yelled. “I didn’t think you would come.”

  “Come?” he asked, a puzzled look on his clearly intoxicated face. “Wait, you sent me that message at work?”

  Lana smiled playfully. “I did, but for now, let’s dance,” she yelled, grabbing him by his hand and pulling him further out on the dance floor.

  “It’s so good to see you. I missed you at work this week. Where have you been?” he asked, shouting over the loud music.

  He couldn’t stop staring at her. For a moment everything seemed to slow to a stop. The music went silent and the room emptied; in his mind it was just the two of them, shrouded in darkness. It was then he knew that she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. “Come on, dance, Spurious!” she yelled, pulling him back into reality and leading him into the crowd. She wrapped her arms around his neck and began to move her breasts against his body. Lana kissed him softly on his cheek and looked at him. “I can’t go back there, Spurious, I just can’t,” she said, in his ear. Spurious looked at her, recognizing the fear in her face.

  “What is it? Why can’t you go back?”

  Lana looked at her feet.

  “I can’t…”

  Spurious stopped dancing and nudged her chin up with his fingers so he could see her eyes. “You can’t what Lana?”

  “I can’t tell you. Not here.”

  “All right, let’s get out of here then,” he said, as he led her out of the darkness.

  Time: 2:35 a.m. January 24, 2071

  Location: Commons Courtyard. Lunia, Tisaia

  A soft blanket of snow covered the stone ground of the courtyard outside the Commons Buildings. The enclosure was built in the shape of a rectangle. Each of the four corners represented a stone statue of the burning flame, the symbol of Tisaia’s life blood—Biomass.

  At the front gate a single Knight stood guard, his goggles a cool blue into the darkness. From his viewpoint the courtyard appeared completely empty. Spurious and Lana had evaded his detection by entering the park from the back and sat huddled together on a park bench, facing the memorial fountain. The water was completely frozen over, but the fountain still attempted to work, with the occasional spurt of water exploding into the frothy air.

  Spurious held Lana in his arms. For what seemed like an hour the two of them remained there, shivering. Spurious wasn’t worried about the cold, nor was he worried about being caught in the park after hours. His only concern was what Lana wanted to tell him at The Ale House a few hours earlier.

  “What is it, Lana?” Spurious whispered in her ear. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

  “I can’t tell you, Spurious. I just can’t. You’ll never understand and will lose all respect for me.”

  Spurious reached over and wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’d never lose respect for you. Not under any circumstance. Why would you think that I would?”

  Lana sniffled, wiping her nose with a quick brush of her hand. “You’ll lose respect because I should have told someone a long time ago.”

  “Lana, trust me, I know what you mean. There are things I have kept in for years—things no one knows and probably never will. I just hope you know you can trust me.”

  “Okay, but what I’m about to tell you is something you can’t share with anyone. Promise me!”

  Spurious nodded. “I promise, Lana.”

  Lana took a deep breath. “For two years Varius has treated me like a slave and I have completed every project for him. Lately, he has become even more demanding. He touches me when no one is looking, and gropes me when no one is around. Worst of all, he’s demanded that I sleep with him. He said, if I don’t, he will have me fired.”A pair of tears raced down her cheeks as she pulled her collar down, revealing a dark purple bruise lining her neck.

  “Oh my God…” Spurious said, choking on his words while imagining the abuse she suffered at the hands of Varius.

  “I can’t go back,” she said, sobbing.

  “That bastard, he isn’t going to get away with this,” Spurious whispered, sliding back on the bench and pulling Lana up from his lap. He wiped another tear from her face. “You must turn him in, Lana. You know you must.”

  “He told me he would fire me if I didn’t sleep with him, and he said he would kill me if I told anyone,” she whimpered. “I don’t know what to do, Spurious. Now that I told you, he’ll kill me for sure.”

  Spurious glanced over at her, his mouth quivering, before he dropped his head into his hands, unable to speak. He ran his fingers through his thick brown hair, raising it into a spike.

  “He will never lay another hand on you again, Lana; I can assure you of this. This is what you’re going to do. For now, you need to stay home until you’re fully healed. Do not go out. Don’t risk being seen,” Spurious frowned. “What were you thinking, going to The Ale House tonight?”

  “I wanted to see you," she quickly replied.

  “What if someone from work had seen you there? You need to think about the repercussions. Varius is a dangerous man and is well connected.”

  Lana looked back up at him, nodding. “I know. I know. It was stupid of me to try and meet with you, but I had to tell you. I don’t know who else to trust.”

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry about that now,” Spurious reassured her. “It's obvious he’s infatuated with you, and if you tell him you’re sick, he will more than likely let you stay at home to rest for a few days, am I right?”

  Lana nodded again.

  “Okay,” Spurious replied. “In the meantime I want to see you. We’ll have to do it secretly, but I need to see you, Lana. I need to know there is something more to life than the work we perform every day and the revolution. This war, the death, the pain… sometimes it’s too much to handle alone. I need to know hope can exist.”

  Did he know what he was saying? Seeing her could mean a visit from the Justice Knights and his job, but something about it felt convincingly right. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, and for a few moments he felt safe, their hearts beating in unison.

  Love was an emotion he hadn’t known since the death of his parents. And he knew how fragile love could be in Tisaia. He had seen it ripped from the hands of so many others—had it ripped from his own hands as a child.

  Spurious squeezed Lana closer. His heart began to pound faster, deeper in his chest. He wouldn’t let anyone come between them, not even a Justice Knight would take her from him. He wasn’t going to lose her like he lost his parents.

  Time: 9:03 a.m. January 25, 2071

  Location: Rohania, Tisaia

  Spurious strolled through the streets of the Rohania market area, his head tucked tightly into the breast of his collar. He wasn’t even sure what had compelled him to get out of bed; usually he would have slept in until at least nine, especially on a day as gloomy as this one. Yet he had risen, showered and forced himself to explore the streets.

  Something had encouraged him to come to the area that was off-limits to State workers—something had driven him to take the risk. So he told Anya he was working overtime and he took the underground trolley to the last stop; where he promptly got off and headed for Rohania, combing his way through old stone alleyways and ducking under a barbed wire fence. He knew all the portals linking the east and west together, some consisting of nothing more than idle storm drains or broken chain link fences.

  He pushed the thoughts of Lana and Varius out of his mind. Today his goal was to find something; he just wasn’t sure what it was yet.

  As he walked, he kept his eyes fixed on the aging brick street, the suspicious eyes of the impoverished following him. He was o
ut of place; his dark black pea coat was new and expensive, not one easily purchased in the area.

  Fortunately, there really wasn’t as much security guarding the border as there used to be. State employees rarely risked venturing to Rohania, and the Rohanians generally kept to their side of the city. Most people in Rohania knew their place. And the CRK had been forceful enough in the past to deter any citizens from Rohania from trying anything in the commons area. Thieves did risk burglaries in Lunia from time to time, but when the State made it a crime punishable by death, the number dramatically decreased.

  A shiver crawled down his spine as he approached the neighborhood he grew up in, the same wooden welcome sign creaking back and forth in the chilly breeze.

  He stiffened and tucked his head deeper into his collar, scanning the copper roof tops stained perpetually with white pigeon droppings. The past decade had camouflaged the shops and apartments with vines and fading paint. Most of the windows were cracked and boarded up, empty except for the face of a child peering down at him like a ghost from the past.

  Slowly he made his way through the old town square, the heart of Rohania, and saw the boarding school he was educated in before the revolution began. The four pillars holding up its white stone roof were now cracked and broken, one of the pillars nothing more than a pile of broken white stone. A rusty sign hung loosely off the front of the building, peppered with bullet holes, but Spurious could still make out the name — The Rohanian Boarding School for Boys.

  Spurious slid his hands into his pocket and gazed at the sign, tucking his face back into his collar just in time to shield himself from a cold blast of wind. He shuddered, freezing, but did not move, his eyes locked on the old school house. The last time he heard the voice of his parents was also the last day he saw this place.

  He could vividly remember his teacher Elma, a little old demon of a woman with deep wrinkles and a nasty cough, coming to retrieve him from class and take him to the office of Superintendent Angelo. It was there, in that dimly lit room, he was informed half-heartedly of the untimely death of his parents. The next day he was shipped off to the Tisaian Academy for Youth. He had thought The Rohanian Boarding School for Boys was hell, but it wasn’t until he entered TAFY he truly understood what it meant to be miserable.

  Another gust of wind shook Spurious out of his trance. He was exhausted, freezing and petrified he would be caught, but now he knew he was close to his old apartment. Tucking his head back into his collar he pressed on, his walk turning into a jog down the narrow brick street.

  He pushed his way through the citizens, ignoring their gloomy faces and disregarding the smell of broiled cabbage filling his nostrils with every step. In the distance he could make out a market area where vendors displayed vegetables and fruits grown on rooftops and community gardens.

  Spurious continued on, paying little attention to the shouts of the vendors who desperately tried to sell their goods. He would not let the noise of the crowd distract him from his mission of finding the place he once called home.

  The state of the buildings could not help but remind him of the refugee camp he visited less than a year ago. The camp was called Halo by the State, but was known by the locals as The Inferno. Its purpose was to house all immigrants captured and awaiting deportation. The conditions at Halo were atrocious, and the State purposely built the camps far from Lunia, hiding the view from the State employees. Spurious had toured the camp to become familiar with the plumbing upgrades the State had commissioned to help mitigate the stench the camps created.

  He knew comparing Rohania to Halo was a considerable exaggeration, but he also knew many of the residents, especially those dwelling in the Boondocks, were not living to see the age of fifty. He’d seen the statistics himself in a report a few months ago. These few notorious blocks were a black hole, and he was being extra cautious not to drift into their dark alleyways.

  By mid-afternoon he was exhausted, struggling to make his way down the winding cobblestone streets. It seemed like he was traveling in circles.

  Shaking his head, he veered down one last street he hadn’t seen before, realizing he might never find his old flat where he had spent his youth.

  He tucked his hands deep in his pockets, and surveyed the new alley for a sign from the past. And right when he thought about giving up he saw it — a metal door covered in two-by-fours.

  His calm stride transitioned into a jog as he made his way towards the door. Seconds later two gargoyle faces carved into the thick wood came into focus, their ugly faces barely recognizable behind the wooden boards imprisoning them.

  Spurious stopped as he reached the door, raising his hand to the soft wood exterior and running his fingers across the incredibly smooth impressions of the gargoyle’s faces. He remembered this place. It was the door he used to sneak out of when his mother had chores for him to do.

  Finally, I’ve found it!

  He paused, overcome with nostalgia. Moments later, he was rushing back down the alley towards the front entrance, quickly noticing the red brick wall ended where he remembered the front of the building used to be. It was here a wall of white stone had been constructed and connected to the red brick of the old building. Puzzled, he took his first right onto a sidewalk, and looked up at what should have been the entrance to his old building. Instead, the same white stone wall towered over him; no door or windows, just stone.

  His eyes scanned the exterior of the building, stopping on the remnants of an old CRK poster flailing loosely in the wind. The ghostly blue glow of a Knight’s goggles stared back at him. It was the same image posted throughout Rohania and Lunia, one he was accustomed to seeing on a daily basis, but he read the words he had memorized nonetheless.

  Do It for Your Future! Secure Your Spot in the World’s Last Honorable Army — Sign up for the CRK Today.

  The poster, riddled with bullet holes, was in the wrong neighborhood. And its frayed edges implied it had been there some time. He shuddered at the propaganda, his eyes fixating back on the stone wall.

  What was the State hiding? The white stone appeared new, smooth and almost polished, like weathered bones. It was a clear error by whoever designed it, if their intent was to hide something. Or, it was a warning to keep away. Spurious wasn’t sure, but as he examined the exterior of the wall closely, he realized the material did not match anything he had seen in Rohania, which meant the State had hired a contractor to come in and build the wall to cover up the building.

  Spurious plopped down on a park bench across the street, studying the building, while questions raced through his head. He sat for what seemed like an hour, the urge to find a way into the building growing inside him. And yet he stayed, contemplating his past and watching the faces of strangers pass.

  Ten years ago he would have recognized nearly every face, but now they were no different than the faceless Knights. He realized it had been over ten years since he last saw Rohania. Up until today, he had no desire to remember the past, and especially not to revisit it. Yet for some reason, his conversation with Lana compelled him to seek answers to questions suppressed for years.

  A group of children ran by him, their laughter distracting him momentarily, and for the first time in the day he smiled. He remembered what it was like to be a child; to run and play and not have worries, and above all, to be free. The last time he felt any of those things he was living in the building across the street from where he sat, a building now covered by a mysterious stone wall.

  A small piece of paper caught his eye as he looked down at the brick street. His eyes followed it as it floated in the breeze, until it came to a stop next to his left boot. He reached down to pick it up, frowning as he realized it was just another advertisement for the CRK. In fact, it was the same image posted to the stone wall across the street from him. The only difference was that the last sentence read “Become a foot soldier.”

  The unmistakable sound of a loud speaker broke out in the distance, shocking Spurious from the bench. He
instantly followed the noise, curious about the source. Carefully he maneuvered his way back into the crowd. He pushed through the patrons, catching the occasional sound of the loudspeaker in the distance. Standing on his toes, he tried to see over the heads of the people in front of him, but to no avail. A block later he came to the market area where his mother used to hunt for cheap food.

  In the center of the cobblestone plaza, a growing crowd gathered around a black truck bearing a CRK logo across its midsection. In the bed were two heavily armed soldiers, their machine guns pointed at the growing crowd. Between the two guards, a man dressed in military fatigues handed out the same yellow flyers Spurious held tightly in his hand.

  Spurious stood on his toes again, listening to the rhetoric spewing out of a loudspeaker mounted to the roof of the truck and into the desperate ears of the commoners. The CRK never recruited in Rohania. At least not that he was aware of. If they needed soldiers then the war with the TDU wasn’t going as well as reported.

  Spurious ducked behind a wooden trailer full to the brim with tomatoes, realizing there could be Knights disguised as Rohanians combing the crowd for dissidents and State workers.

  And yet he stayed, partly hidden from view, peeking out from the protection of the trailer. His curious eyes followed the young men, who looked desperately in need of work, file into a line one by one.

  “Sign up for the world’s last honorable army!” the man from the pickup yelled into his mic. “Good pay. Time off. And food for you and your family,” he continued.

  Within minutes Spurious had seen enough to realize Paulo was right. The State was lying to them about more than just the Wastelands. They were lying about the Biomass Revolution.

  He turned to head back the way he came, tucking his chin back into his collar and diverting his eyes to the street. Everywhere he walked, he felt the eyes of curious observers burning into his back. And to make things worse he felt the sensation of someone following him. His suspicion intensified when he noticed a scruffy old man clearly on his trail.