Perfect World

by George Ivanoff

  ‘So different,’ he heard one of them whisper.

  ‘Are you really going up there?’ a middle-aged woman with a purple comb-over asked Eone. All the attention turned to his friend.

  ‘Yes,’ answered Eone.

  ‘Why?’ asked the young boy without eyebrows. ‘Befour’s revolution might work.’

  ‘It won’t,’ said Eone sadly. ‘There are too many of the Perfect. And once they’ve been attacked, how do you think they’ll respond? Do you think they’ll let the rest of us live down here in peace?’

  ‘THREE!’ The call sounded through the junk.

  A young girl, panting and coughing, came scrambling out of a small side tunnel. She was like a little ball of soot, all grey and grimy. Her eyes darted from person to person until they locked onto Eone.

  ‘Befour …’ she said, between breaths. ‘Has three hangers-on.’

  ‘Three?’ asked Eone. ‘Only three followers?’

  The girl nodded. ‘Others were too scaredy about going up.’

  ‘Well done, Scruff,’ said Eone.

  ‘If there’s just four of them,’ said Keagan, feeling a tiny bit of optimism, ‘what can they do?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Scruff. ‘They has metal coverings.’

  ‘Metal coverings?’ asked Eone. ‘You mean armour?’

  ‘Sort of,’ the girl answered. ‘Metal and machinery and tech and … and … stuff.’

  ‘Befour is always covered in things like that,’ said Eone. ‘It’s part of who he is.’

  ‘Different,’ insisted Scruff. ‘More! Big! It’s … it’s …’ She shivered and went silent.

  Eone frowned.

  ‘Whatever he’s wearing doesn’t matter,’ said Keagan. ‘We should get going. We might be able to stop him before he gets up to the city. Then we won’t have to go up.’ And I can go home, thought Keagan.

  The crowd followed them through the junk tunnels, over the wall and out into the sewage system.

  Keagan groaned. He’d only just started to dry out. And he still smelled.

  ‘Why is Scruff’s name different from everyone else’s?’ asked Keagan, to distract himself.

  ‘She was a baby when she was dumped,’ Eone explained, her tone sombre. ‘Most of the time babies will arrive with the Perfect who saved them. Babies dumped on their own don’t often survive the drop. But this baby arrived wrapped up in layers of scrappy material, with a mountain of soft food scraps. We had no idea what her individual number was, and she was so cute and scruffy … we ended up calling her Scruff.’

  Keagan imagined a baby being thrown out with the garbage. He clenched his fists and swallowed hard.

  As they neared the location of the ladder, they heard shouting.

  ‘HELP ME!’

  Eone sprinted off, Keagan trying hard to keep up.

  Ahead they could see someone splashing about in the sewage.

  ‘Jayone?’ said Eone. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ spluttered the young man.

  Keagan guessed he was the same generation as Befour. While Befour’s head was naturally bald and smooth, Jayone’s was shaved, with visible stubble.

  He was lying in the fetid water at the bottom of the tunnel, a pile of scrap pinning him to the ground.

  ‘Dump chute opened up above me,’ he said. ‘Wasn’t quick enough. Mech-suit slows me down.’

  ‘Mech-suit?’ asked Eone, as she and Keagan examined Jayone.

  Sure enough, he was encased in mechanics. It was like an exoskeleton made of junk. As he tried to get up, they could see that the mech-suit was tangled in the scrap that had fallen from the chute.

  ‘Help me!’ demanded Jayone.

  ‘Not so fast,’ said Eone, crossing her arms. ‘We need some information first. What’s Befour’s plan?’

  ‘How should I know?’ snapped Jayone.

  ‘In that case, you can stay right where you are,’ said Eone.

  Jayone looked up. The other Refuse had arrived and were gathered around, many of them pointing and smirking.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ Jayone relented. ‘Goin’ to the Perfect World, ain’t he. Gonna show ’em what for.’

  ‘Well, duh! We know that already,’ said Keagan. ‘But what exactly is he going to do? It’s not like he’s got an army.’

  ‘Said he didn’t need one,’ said Jayone. There was pride and admiration in his voice. ‘Told us he could do it on his own. Told us he just needed a distraction.’

  ‘What is he actually going to do?’ asked Eone. ‘What’s his plan?’

  ‘Um … don’t know,’ admitted Jayone. ‘Wouldn’t tell us. Then he left us behind.’ A slick of black goo floated through the stinking sewage, right past his face. His eyes widened. ‘Now get me outta here!’

  Eone turned to the gathered Refuse. ‘Help him up,’ she instructed. ‘Take the mech-suit off him and make sure he doesn’t follow us.’

  As Jayone protested, Eone and Keagan moved towards the ladder.

  ‘Can we come with you?’ asked a young man whose clothes were covered in squares of white plastic.

  ‘No,’ said Eone, turning back. ‘We need to do this carefully. Befour’s already gone up. And a whole crowd of people will draw too much attention. It will be better if the two of us just sneak up.’

  The young man nodded.

  ‘We’ll wait here until you come back,’ called the woman with purple hair. ‘Be safe!’

  Keagan led the way up the ladder, towards the hatch and the concrete bunker. Eone was close behind.

  ‘What’s Befour’s story?’ asked Keagan, as they climbed. ‘Why is he so angry?’

  Eone let out a long sigh. ‘61-B-4. He was fifteen when he came to the Dumping Ground. When he was ten, his hair started to fall out. He doesn’t know why … it just did. The Perfect who noticed it before anyone else helped him hide it. She collected his fallen hair, as well as stray strands from other clones … from their beds, showers, wherever. She was a cleaner, so it was not too difficult. She used the collected hair to make a wig for him. But one day, he fell over and his wig slipped and others saw. His friend helped him escape. Took him to a disposal chute.’

  ‘And she stayed up there?’ asked Keagan.

  ‘No,’ said Eone. ‘She came to the Dumping Ground too. She wasn’t perfect either. She had a breathing problem that she had hidden for years. But down here the air was different and it was harder for her to breathe. Until one day, she stopped.’

  ‘Oh.’ Keagan didn’t know what else to say. This whole world seemed so unfair.

  They continued in silence.

  As they approached the top of the ladder, Keagan gasped. There was a gaping hole smashed through the concrete where the hatch had been. They slowed down, approaching with care. How had Befour done this? Surely the mech-suits weren’t that strong? As he reached the hole, Keagan heard what he thought was a soft growling sound. Cautiously, he climbed up through the floor … and stopped halfway, eyes agog. He ducked back down and whispered to Eone, ‘You’re not going to believe this. We’ve got another one.’

  Before Eone could respond, Keagan put a finger to his lips and continued up.

  Climbing into the bunker, they stared at the bald young man in his mech-suit, slumped against the wall beside the twisted hatch, still attached to a lump of concrete ripped from the floor. He was snoring loudly.

  Eone took the coil of rope from her belt and tiptoed up to the sleeping man. She slipped the end of the rope through the circular handle of the hatch; then ever so gently through the spaces between the mechanics of the man’s suit – first on one arm, then the next. She tied the ends of the rope into a loose knot and motioned for Keagan to take one end. She mimed pulling on the rope, then mouthed a countdown.

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  ‘NOW!’

  Keagan and Eone yanked on the ends of the rope with all their might. The knot tightened, pulling the rope taught. The man woke with a start as his arms were yanked towards the hatch, slamming up ag
ainst it.

  ‘Hey! What’s going on?’ he yelled, trying to release himself. Seeing Eone and Keagan he doubled his effort. ‘I’m here to stop ya!’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Eone. ‘You’ve been caught sleeping on the job.’

  ‘What? No!’ he protested as he continued to struggle with the rope. ‘I ain’t sleeping. Just resting the eyes.’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ said Keagan. ‘Whatever.’

  ‘Befour will be so proud of you when we tell him,’ said Eone.

  ‘No! You can’t,’ begged the young man. ‘He’s already mad at me for not going up.’

  Eone crouched down. ‘And why is that?’

  ‘Couldn’t go up the shaft,’ said the man, averting his eyes. ‘Handholds are small and … and I ain’t good with heights. Barely made it up the ladder to this place.’

  Eone and Keagan glanced at each other and then burst into laughter.

  ‘So he left you behind,’ said Keagan.

  ‘To guard the way up,’ insisted the man. ‘Important job.’

  ‘And you’ve done it so well,’ teased Eone.

  The man grunted and struggled against the rope.

  ‘How did you smash through the concrete floor?’ asked Keagan.

  ‘Befour did that?’

  ‘How?’ Eone demanded.

  The man sneered. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’

  Keagan walked to the elevator shaft, stood beside the central pole and faced up into the darkness. He was no longer laughing. It was a long way up and there was no platform to transport them.

  Keagan had never had a problem with heights. But then, he’d never had to climb up a huge elevator shaft before. He could feel a nervous sweat forming on his brow.

  ‘Look at these.’ Eone put a hand up to one wall. There were handholds carved into the concrete, like rungs of a ladder.

  ‘Maybe when this place was built, they needed a way to climb up in case the elevator didn’t work,’ said Keagan. He examined the walls more closely. ‘Check this out.’

  There were gouges in the concrete, as if something very powerful had scratched into the hard surface. ‘These weren’t here before,’ he said nervously.

  ‘Doesn’t change anything,’ said Eone.

  Keagan sighed. ‘So I guess we go up?’

  ‘It’s a long climb,’ said Eone. ‘Want me to go first?’

  Keagan shook his head and gripped the first handhold. He put a foot up and started climbing, all the while hoping that the elevator didn’t come down while they were in the shaft.

  It was a long climb. Part way, Keagan almost lost his grip when a deep thrumming noise sounded through the shaft. He looked up with dread, half expecting to see the platform speeding towards them. But it wasn’t. And the noise stopped.

  Keagan took a deep breath and a moment to compose himself, then let the air out slowly before continuing.

  A few minutes later the noise started again. Keagan checked the platform once more. Nothing.

  ‘It must be the sound of other machinery,’ he called down to Eone in a shaky voice.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Her response echoed up.

  Keagan hoped there wasn’t much further to go. All of his joints ached from the strain, and his muscles felt a bit jelly-like.

  When they reached the bottom of the platform, he saw a jagged hole smashed into the plastic.

  This is it, thought Keagan. I just need to get up through here, and then no more climbing.

  He closed his eyes for a few seconds and took another long, deep breath, concentrating on the fast beating of his heart. Then, opening his eyes, he reached up through the hole, hooking his elbow onto the floor of the elevator car.

  Almost there.

  As he hauled himself up, one of the sharp bits of plastic scrapped across his side, tearing his shirt and scratching his skin.

  He yelped and pulled away, causing his feet to slip.

  And he found himself dangling by one arm, over a very long drop. Too scared to scream, Keagan stared down into the darkness, wondering if this was how his life would end.

  Keagan hung over the elevator shaft, gasping. This is not the end, he thought. I can get out of this.

  He gasped for air as he tried to get his other arm up into the hole.

  ‘Hang on!’ yelled Eone from below. He could feel her positioning a shoulder under one of his feet. With his legs steadied and with both arms braced on the platform, he hauled himself up into the Perfect World, managing to avoid any more jagged edges.

  Keagan collapsed onto the floor of the platform, panting and trying to calm down. He rested his sweaty forehead on the cool plastic.

  Eone’s head popped up through the hole, grinning. She pulled herself through without any difficulty and jumped to her feet. She extended a hand to him.

  Groaning, Keagan took it and got up. Then he gasped.

  The elevator room was different from the last time he was here. Shattered glass was sprayed out across the floor. The plastic console was twisted and ripped from the wall.

  There was an unconscious figure huddled in the corner, three clones gathered around him. They watched Keagan and Eone, wide-eyed and trembling with fear.

  Keagan approached them and they backed away. They were the same clones who had been here, operating the tech-screen, when he had gone down. And the huddled figure was one of the supervisors. Crouching down, Keagan gently shook his shoulder.

  A groan confirmed that he was still alive. Eyes flickered open. Seeing Keagan, he flinched and cowered.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Keagan. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.’

  The clone touched his forehead where a large purple bruise was forming. ‘I think I am all right.’ Then there was recognition in the clone’s eyes. ‘You. You are the stranger who went down.’

  ‘Yes. My name’s Keagan. What’s yours?’

  ‘My designation is 58-K-2.’

  ‘Is it okay if I call you K-2?’

  K-2 shrugged. Then he saw Eone and his eyes filled with terror.

  ‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ said Keagan. ‘This is Eone. She’s with me.’

  ‘With you?’ K-2 looked confused. ‘There were others. They did this.’ He indicated the damage.

  ‘Yes,’ said Keagan. ‘We’re not with them. We’re trying to stop them. What happened? What did they do?’

  ‘They came up through the floor,’ said K-2, his voice stilted. ‘They smashed through it. They were violent. And they had a tech-screen. They tried to interface with ours, but failed. So then they destroyed our tech-screen.’ K-2 paused, his brow furrowed in concentration. ‘They had machines around their bodies. They were strong. They took 58-K-1.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Eone.

  ‘I am not sure.’ K-2 gingerly touched the bruise on his forehead again. ‘I think they wanted him to lead them somewhere. I tried to stop them from taking my friend … my co-supervisor.’

  ‘We need your help, K-2,’ said Keagan.

  ‘My help?’

  ‘Yes,’ continued Keagan. ‘We need to find 47-G-2. Can you tell us where she is?’

  ‘47-G-2?’ said K-2. ‘She is very old. She is retired. You will find her in the Waiting Rooms.’

  ‘Where’s that?’ asked Eone.

  ‘Show them,’ instructed K-2.

  The three other clones approached the wall, one of them reaching up and pressing a hand to it. A small tech-screen, like the one Befour had taken from Keagan, popped out from a slot. The clone brushed her fingers across the sheet’s surface then handed it to Keagan.

  The tech-screen displayed a map.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Keagan. He turned to Eone. ‘Let’s go!’

  They had barely made it to the door, when an alarm began to blare.

  Keagan and Eone made their way along the white corridors, feeling disorientated by the noise of the alarm and the accompanying flashing red light. It was a lot louder than that first alarm when Keagan had arrived. Eone was gazing around wi
th a mixture of wonder and confusion.

  ‘Left at the next junction,’ said Keagan, glancing down at the map.

  They raced around the corner, stopped, and ran back, pressing themselves up against the wall.

  ‘Do you think they saw us?’ gasped Eone.

  ‘I hope not,’ answered Keagan. To be certain, he peeked around the corner. His heart was racing and he could feel sweat soaking into his shirt.

  Up ahead was the last of Befour’s helpers, encased in his mech-suit, trying to fight off five black-clad clones. He knocked one off his feet and slammed another into the wall, as the other three pounced.

  Keagan ducked back. ‘So much for stopping the Perfect from finding out about the Refuse.’

  ‘We’ve got to get to the Waiting Rooms,’ said Eone.

  Keagan checked the tech-screen again, trying to find a different way. ‘Here! We can take a detour.’

  They withdrew the way they’d come, and then went along another side corridor, which led to a place Keagan recognised – the open space full of children. Despite the blaring alarm, the children stood around in groups of five, staring at nothing. He noticed that the grown-up clones behind the window were agitated and confused.

  ‘What is this place?’ said Eone. Her mouth was agape, staring in wonder. ‘It seems almost familiar.’

  ‘It’s a school, I guess,’ said Keagan. Seeing her blank expression, he explained further. ‘A place where kids come to learn.’

  ‘They’re just standing around,’ said Eone.

  ‘See that window over there?’ asked Keagan, pointing. ‘There are people in there sending information into the students’ brains.’

  She looked like she was trying to remember something. Keagan realised that she would probably have spent time here before being dumped.

  ‘And right now, they’re distracted and not watching the room,’ said Keagan. ‘So this is our chance to get through.’

  He took Eone’s hand, glanced at the map and led her along the wall of the learning centre towards the next corridor. They passed groups of kids staring into space. When passing the final group, Keagan noticed a girl watching them with a tentative half-smile.