A World Apart

by Loui Downing

  Mrs Taylor read intently the accounts of twenty first century history; some details unaware to her. She sat up and looked directly at Francesca, scaring her as her stare was so intense that it looked as though she was going to curse her with her eyes.

  “Are you ok? Do you believe it?” asked Francesca, nervously stumbling in her speech, petrified at what Mrs Taylor was going to do.

  “Yes dear, sorry I, hold on a minute” said Mrs Taylor and she lifted herself quickly from the chair and walked over towards the other members of staff that were filing. A black woman with dark rimmed glasses gasped as Francesca watched Mrs Taylor mumble to herself whilst showing the book to everyone. Francesca leaned forwards in hope to get a whisper of a key word, although she couldn’t hear anything except for chattering and whispers that went on for around three minutes. Mrs Taylor made a ghastly roar of a noise which made Francesca jump and heart race as she sat up straight. Mrs Taylor walked back towards Francesca with a grim dawning expression cast upon her face; making her look unusually pasty.

  “Is everything ok Miss?” asked Francesca thoughtfully.

  “Yes dear. It was just that my father was killed in the war, not a day goes by when I think of him, I was only a few years older than you, working in a campsite in the Cornish area of England on an exchange visit with a few friends, I was told later that week he had crashed in the red sea and drowned” said Mrs Taylor very tearful and weak at the knees as she cast her mind back to when she was young.

  “What war?” yelled Francesca; now elevated off her chair and airborne closer to Mrs Taylor.

  “I take it you read the details of the old ink?” spoke Mrs Taylor looking concerned.

  “No” said Francesca immediately.

  “Why, what war are you talking about?” added Francesca, now very concerned and impatient with her delay in answering. Mrs Taylor remained calm and collected although inside she was full of panic. She looked up at noticed the cameras focussing in on her conversation.

  “Sweetheart, the content of the book has clearly been tampered with from some fictional text, you should not take any notice” replied Mrs Taylor, fully aware that she was now being watched and recorded.

  “But you said about a war…your father’s-” argued Francesca dominantly with content.

  “I meant the Great War missy, and yes my father did die, for people like you to shout at me? I think not, now gather your thoughts and leave before you are forced out of here” propelled Mrs Taylor, raising the tempo of the discussion a little to overpower Francesca. Francesca packed her things and placed her books into her open satchel. She reached over the desk for “Twenty-First Century Archaeology” but she felt a struggle in obtaining the book as she was facing the other way in line with the exit. Francesca turned around to look at the book which had Mrs Taylor’s hand clutched across the book; slowly hurting her hand. Francesca let out a girlish squabble and released the book, attending to her hand as it was throbbing red.

  “I have ordered for this book; I need it for my studies Miss. Please can I have it back?” said Francesca grudgingly to Mrs Taylor.

  “Certainly not, it has now been confiscated until further notice” said Mrs Taylor sternly, her face turning a beetroot red; giving a look of pure fright. Francesca gave up and reached for her satchel as she left the building she noticed two men in suits walking past her into the library as she scurried off, realising that she had spent far too long in the library and that dinner leftovers would only be left.

  She was right she thought on entering the canteen, noticing the tiny portions of food left in the silver trays under the heated lights. Francesca adjusted her bag as one of her books was poking her in the ribs, when she heard a voice call but she couldn’t distinguish where it was coming from.

  “Fran” bellowed a thin girl called Pennie, a well-spoken girl that all the boys would chase around the grounds at lunchtimes in hope for a kiss on the cheek. To the disappointment of the boys this is a selective process that only seems to happen when she had no homework, or when she was joking around with the other girls. Francesca was very envious of this and she tried her best to compete with her as it used to upset her at lunchtimes when she would be left alone with probably one of the smelliest boys you can imagine. Francesca scooped her couscous with tomatoes, courgettes, peas and lettuce and went to sit next to her. Pennie was finishing her dinner quickly as there were only eleven minutes until they had health and fitness class with a young teacher named Mr Johnson. He seemed to attract female pupils that were not even supposed to be in his class, just purely to observe him; making a few of the boys jealous.

  “Hi Fran, how are you?” said Pennie softly; her words melting in Francesca’s ears.

  “I’m ok thanks, a bit of a scary moment with Mrs Taylor from the library but apart from that I’m feeling well. Are you? How is your Myths subject coming along?” said Francesca as she placed her things down on the desk and sat down. She faced Pennie and began tucking into the food quickly; realising that she was now in a rush before health and fitness, so she shovelled extra food into a bag and hurried to the gymnasium.

  “Yeah, myths is going great thanks, it is a little strange though, some of the foreign myths make me laugh” replied Pennie, eyeing up what Francesca was eating, Pennie looked disgusted at the sight of Francesca shovelling her food in her mouth, making her feel a tiny bit queasy. The bell rang, which forced Francesca to leave the rest of her dinner and head for the sports hall to change into her sport clothes. As they walked together, Francesca’s side burned as she felt a rush of pain in her stomach. Mr Johnson was standing at the door with a full class of pupils who all looked behind him at the window, making him do the same. He looked at them both and opened the door wide for them both.

  “Why are you girls late?” asked Mr Johnson. The whole class could here and a few sniggers were heard from across the room.

  “I was late getting away from the library” said Francesca without thinking and immediately there was an eruption of laughter. Francesca had no problem with being called a smarty pants, sometimes she preferred it this way; it was Pennie who despised being called nerdy or geeky. She likes to hang around with the girls and boys that messed around in class and joke around of studying.

  “No Sir, that’s not why we are late, I was kissing a boy in the library that’s what Francesca means” announced to Mr Johnson, trying to look more adult, although failing ridiculously. Mr Johnson gave an awkward discouraging smile and ushered for them to get changed quickly and enter the hall. The two entered the girls changing area and exited it post haste as they didn’t want to get on the wrong side of Mr Johnson, as he can be mean sometimes. The hall smelt of a cross between polish and bleach that when smelt would not leave your nostrils alone. The wooden cross hatched flooring consisted of all different shades, colours and sizes that hypnotised the children.

  Equipment was situated all around the outside of the middle of the room. One piece of equipment was a large screen that simulated an activity. The participant wearing a suit and head gear ensured realism in some activities, such as sound, smell, touch, taste and sight. One particular girl appeared to be snowboarding, until she fell off the skis and emergency bags were deployed from the machine to cushion her fall. Most teachers objected to this type of equipment saying it was not physical exercise, although research undertaken in 2019 showed an increase in stamina compared to real-life activity and an extra weight loss of seven percent. Research also found that it was less hazardous prone and more aesthetically appealing to the game orientated youth that initiated in the 1980’s.

  “Right class, stop what you are doing, come and sit on the benches at the front. We are going to go outside on a cross country run” said Mr Johnson, as the children gradually approached the wall underneath a basketball hoop. Mr Johnson reached for something on the wall, revealing a screen that was built into the wall. He began typing in mid-air, when the class watched as a map displayed on the screen and began to flash.

  �
��Outlined in red is the route that we are taking, I want you to all to pair off into groups of no larger than three and assign one person to be the leader of the group” added Mr Johnson, as he pointed to the screen with his hairy finger.

  “This is not just a running exercise, it is a teambuilding one, you will have things to discover, collect and areas that you must approach with caution” finished Mr Johnson, looking towards the class who all seemed perplexed by the details. Today’s activity was unusual compared to the normal weeks. This activity appeared to have no boundaries whatsoever; the children were allowed way into the woodland. Pennie and Francesca decided to form a team and they looked around to find another member. Francesca spotted an average build boy with muffled hair and a vacant and humorous expression which made the two decide to ask him to join. He was very excited about working with them; he usually had to pair off with the teacher which used to annoy him and prevented him from making any friends.

  “Captains sorted?” said Mr Johnson after around five minutes.

  “Captains come to the front” added Mr Johnson. The three of them pondered for a while and unexpectedly Pennie spoke.

  “I think I should be captain” said Pennie with a bossy tone. Francesca looked at both of them who didn’t react. Feeling disappointed, she took a few paces back and sat back down on the autumn stained bench. Francesca had always wanted to be captain of something, but if she mentioned this to Pennie, she wouldn’t have a friend. Pennie was very useful if someone did pick on Francesca; she knew some of the older people that would stick up for her, placing her in a sticky situation was as her friendship was imperative to her.

  The boy messed up his hair and tried to denote some structure to the wild monstrosity as Francesca watched with admiration as his hands move like spider’s legs.

  “Right, off you go then… and good luck, you will need it. The first group to reach the end of the course with all discoveries understood and puzzles solved will receive the secret prize” said Mr Johnson addressing all of the pupils at once as he stepped aside to make way for the pupils. The three left shortly after Mr Johnson gave a small piece of paper and a GPS device to the pupils. He headed out of the sports hall, down the corridor onto the concrete pathway and along to a gate that gave entrance to a forest of enchanted greens, yellows, browns and whites that danced around to the wind and sun’s command. The teams went off into the wilderness, separating as Mr Johnson stood at the gate and closed it behind him, which was rather odd though Francesca as she heard a lock being closed. After around four minutes of treading over twigs and leaves and all sorts of creatures they became tiresome. Francesca seemed to be lagging behind the other two who were deep in conversation.

  “Come on, we’ll be last, slow coach” shouted Pennie from afar, echoing around the forest; waking the animals in the process.

  “I’ll catch you up, I’ve found an interesting tree” replied Francesca who was clearly lying. The other two laughed at her reply, but on this occasion Francesca was fully immersed in noise she heard a few moments ago.

  Traipsing across the undergrowth she parted leaves with her feet, bushes that looked like it had been planted deliberately and soil newly distributed around the tree roots. Francesca peered through the bushes to see a black car outline that was parked on the white chocolate chip stones outside the school; adjacent to the dolphin fountain which was squirting water from its mouth. She watched intently, moving closer towards the front of the school, her heart racing so fast that anything would make her leap out of her skin. She edged closer and closer, her footsteps ascending to the floor like a feather falling from the sky. She treaded with caution to reduce the sound of a branches cracking and alerting anyone. She saw a small opening and crouched down and squeeze through where she could see everything that was going on, apart from a few branches and plants in front of her. Francesca, still crouched, waited for something to happen, her eyes looking at the shiny black car that looked very expensive. After a few minutes of waiting she looked at her watch and thought she had better make her way to catch up with the others. She was supposed to be in charge, when she was paralysed in motion and deeply transfixed on the car. Two men dressed in black suits were escorting someone from the building and into the back of the car. The car wheels scrapped on the stones and skidded away, flicking dust into the air as they disappeared through the main gates to the school. Francesca, feeling the adrenaline pumping around her veins made her nervous and nauseated, as she ran back towards her group, sprinting as hard as she could until she saw Pennie and Edward messing around with bits of bark in the undergrowth.

  

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Missing Remainder

  It was the stench the tickled Neville’s nose as he wondered the streets of New York, confused to where he was heading or what he was doing. The ripping humming sound buzzed passed him, nearly catching his head as the rotorbike sailed off into the sky in front of him as he stared aimlessly. Vans delivering goods with their hazards blazing simultaneously as the vehicles are parked illegally. Workers battling with their equipment in the rain, umbrellas being shuck as shoppers enter buildings and not a bird on the ground. The buildings around Neville gave a blotchy look from the fallen rain droplets, causing a damp gathering to occur. The whooshing sound of underground pods coming to a sudden halt and moments later the surface in swarmed with travellers and commuters from afar. Floating advertisements filled the streets now, advertising the latest gadget and fitness regime. Neville batted one out of the way as they really agitate him, feeling that they invade your space. The advertisement moved along and down the street, as if it were programmed to. The streets of New York have changed slightly over the past few years Neville has been there, new medicines, technology and political and international laws but the very backbone and general vibe was still very much alive. Neville was in the heart of the city walking slowly, absorbing the culture and people watching from time to time. Neville recalls supermarkets that have all changed now to booths, simply a virtual simulation of shopping, which could be done anytime and anywhere thanks to the A.R.I merger with the majority of the big supermarkets, resulting in the others following suit shortly after noticing a dramatic rise in revenue. Advances in medicines across the world have saved lives that were before gone untreated and scientists have unlocked elements that cures and maintains some forms of cancer that were considered lethal around ten years ago. Oil powered cars, trains, buses and planes were abolished in 2021, making it against the law for anyone to possess such a vehicle and to do so apart from the local services such as the police force, fire and rescue and the health service, anyone caught would be fined and even sentenced to prison. Transportation was adapted to coincide with the environment, trams playing a major role in everyday life which used electricity, now powered by wave energy from coast lines and industrial wave centres around the world. E-H cars are used although they are distinctly quiet, running on solar power and electricity, which emit natural gasses that replace the much needed ones of the past decade. Rotorbikes are common for business people and the rich and famous, costing the most as they run on a high velocity of electricity, with also having the ability to be airborne. Bigger versions are in production at present to combat problems with aeroplane abolishment, although most people have got used to the idea that the train and boat is a much more pleasant and sometimes quicker option. Neville recalls staring in dismay when he first saw an all-electronic car, expecting to see a driver and instead he saw people chatting and the car moving along as if it had a mind of its own. The art and skill of driving a vehicle is considered ‘a lost skill’ of 2021 and only a select few have the skills, due to them being banished.

  The first women president was elected two years ago in America, Mary Roland being a yokel American brought up in the Tennessee area was elected based on her innovative approach to European and International affairs and the relationship between America and Asia. Some cynics may beg to differ about the appointment as she gave the go ahead for
environment taxation, consisting of taxing homeowners owning up to the place they live in and ensuring that they take the correct precautions to reduce wastage. Neville remembers her speech when she was first elected, everyone was astounded but then realised what a good job she was doing and vowed for her to stay in charge. Her speech came back to Neville as he walked alone the wide pavement of a busy working morning, he recalled her laughing and mentioning that the best thing that happened in 2009 was that carrier bags were axed, making the small step for her giant campaign, which is now tremendously successful, making America close to being one of the cleanest and eco-friendly in the world. It was a gust of wind that made Neville realise as it swept across his face of how glad he was to be free away from hassle and the overhanging grasps, which had suddenly now all been lifted as he could do as he pleases and wonder the streets at his leisure without the harassment and annoyance of a sibling or spouse. Neville’s clothes were torn in random places and they looked a few sizes too small for him, the sleeves dangling aimlessly like a plant bobbing in the breeze. He hadn’t had a shave for a while either, his beard had accumulated to half way down his chest and it looked unattained and grubby which made passersby feel disgusted. His morale was considerably high for a man of his placement in the world. Long black streaks of hair were visible out of the full covering hat he was wearing. The long streaks fell across his face, giving a washed look to Neville even though this was not the case at all, flies certainly liked his company and dozens swarmed around him. The tiny moth holes in his hat made his head cold and he was desperate to find a new one soon. Roaming the streets was a hard task for Neville, passers-by completely ignoring his attempts for a few coins for a drink. Neville was now coming to a spot where he was sat last night for a few hours, remembering how he was minding his own business until a gang set upon him and nicked some of his belongings and the money he was planning on using to a trip to another side of America, somewhere nice and friendly like the village him and his father lived in all those years ago. He stopped himself before he became tearful and decided to head down the street and call at a local shop for some bread and a coffee. He glanced up at the clock tower just as the second hand ticked over to 7:57am. He halted and decided to linger for a short while as the shop didn’t open until eight and he thought if they saw him hanging around the shop he might get moved on for his appearance being distasteful to the general public. Neville paused in thought as he watched the busy lifestyles in the city, questioning the very need for it. Since all that is forgotten in his past he began debating his pointless and agonising existence, his mood changing as his face turned to a sombre disbelieving fixation. The time past by and the clunking sound of the metal shutters signified to Neville that the shop was open for business, so he started to head towards the shop. Once inside, he was greeted by a broad smile from a young Asian man behind the desk which reassured him. Neville quickly gathered the items he wanted and scurried to the desk, scraping his feet along the floor for he was in pain from a piece of shrapnel that is lodged in his calf, after being attacked a few months ago. He gave the shopkeeper the money and waited for his change, although it did not arrive.