by Loui Downing
“Tenders’ fetch me Stefan…we need his expertise with this one” announced Captain Vidan, ignoring Tenderton’s complaints as if they were yesterday’s news. Mr Tenderton trotted off out of the small cabin and onto the balcony that overlooked the decks and ship below. He stood defiantly as he absorbed the shoreline of Southampton, making his way to the edge of the balcony with a unique clocking noise that his ruffled boots made on the steel floor. After a while gazing out to England, he then set about the spiral staircase that descended to his left and lead to the docks where soldiers and workers were busy in the sun’s rays and low humid atmosphere. The soldiers began to neatly line up as the arrival to England was imminent. Lines and lines of troops, machines and vehicles filled the front bay, creating a bed of greenery that resembles the scenery ahead. A loud droning pitch sounded as the ship halted and started to anchor and attached to the docks.
Mr Tenderton stretched to attend to his shoelace that had lazily slumped onto the front bay floor, abruptly returning to keep a close eye on what was happening ahead. It was then that Tenderton finally spotted Stefan, although it was too late to call him to the office as he was promptly boarding the island. Everything looked in order so he returned up to the office to inform the Captain of the bad news. Once he had stabilised himself from the look of disgust that came bellowing silently from Captain Vidan Ingle, he then extracted his wooden chair and sat, attending to documents and journals as he placed his feet on the back of the desk, propping himself comfortably. After a short while of ruffling Tenderton found the correct journal he had been looking for. Quick as a hat, Tenderton picked up his pen, dabbed it into ink and started to write in another book that was around the size of the palm of a hand.
“12 hundred hours- bay reached and cargo successfully being transported as like 2.3 Operative instructions states. Clause 1.2b is to be amended to ’20 mile radius’ instead of 10. Southampton shoreline-23d 45h 99i, Regards, Captain Vidan Igle”
Vidan Inge
The captain finished writing in the journal, drawing a rectangular box at the bottom of the writing where he shortly pressed with his finger and the writing disappeared. He closed the book and returned to the documents, tidying what he could but he remained troubled, although what it may be, he did not know. He was finally left alone in his glamorous office where he sighed dramatically, taking in the air with pleasure. He is a rather scary man to come across, big build, bulging eyes, a perfectly trimmed beard and a mean expression that would frighten the scariest of creatures. Although captain Ingle has a distasteful exterior, he is also considered a caring and devoted man who looks out for his soldiers and that is very loyal to his family. He often finds it extremely difficult to cope without his French wife Fiona and their son Jadin. Some days really do drag, thought captain Ingle as he swivelled the last of his coffee in his mug and looked out of the circular window where the sun shone miraculously as if to put a smile on his face. He reverted back to his desk where he starred momentarily at a family photo of them all outside their new summer home in Monaco. The captain was rudely interrupted as Tenderton came bursting through the large double doors that swung into his office. Tenderton could obviously tell he had come at a bad time and offered his apologies, which were turned down.
“I’ll be out in five, Andrew” said captain Ingle, clearly not amused by his sudden appearance. Tenderton quickly disappeared and closed the doors behind him.
Five minutes later, the captain came steadily from his office and out onto his own private balcony where he saw his men being briefed on the docks below. The instructor below was an old college friend of captain Ingle’s called Robin Reaves from Cambridge, where they studied English and Philosophy together. Robin is a delightfully well-spoken middle aged man who is interested in similar things to the captain, such as reading, opera, art, philosophy and family outings. Robin is a year older than captain Ingle and even though he is he has a surprisingly young looking face, which the captain is sometimes quite jealous of, especially when people guess his age. They are both very competitive in whatever they do, Robin achieving a double first degree classification and being offered numerous scholarships, whereas Ingle lived more for the social side of University, achieving an upper second class degree respectively. This is evident when the two attend social outings, Robin being very shy and reclusive in his input, Ingle however is the compete opposite, which often overpowers the unfortunate listener casually yawning.
After their graduation Robin decided to teach as he approached his late twenties, whereas the captain remained at Cambridge to then study computer science, falling in love with the subject in the mid-nineties, forming his own business. WearIT was the business, based on the principle idea of wearable computer devices. The business saw a glitch soon after the millennium, although it was incorporated into IT giant A.I.R, owned by the Marvel family. The technological enhancements that originated from Ingle were well received at a meeting late that winter, one of their favourites was the C400, which consisted of devices embedded into the retina to project information. Contrary to this, Robin shifted his career once again and gained a job at WearIT where he worked as a coordinator of developments, later being promoted to analyst and user specialist, all of which infuriated Ingle. Things started to change as Marvel pushed for a redevelopment programme in 2014, shipping them off to where they are at present.
Tenderton pooped up out of the blue next to captain Ingle, who jolted and placed his hand to his heart.
“DEAR GOD MAN!” shouted captain Ingle as he clearly had not seen Tenderton arrive next to him.
“We are about to board sir” said Tenderton with haste.
“Is that it?” snapped captain Ingle.
“Er, yes sir that is all” replied Tenderton, confused at his tone. Captain Ingle reached for his overcoat pocket and handed something to Tenderton, who quickly disappeared as soon possible.
The shoreline disappeared as the day progressed, which could be recognised by workers taking a short break in the emerging sun from the clouds. Neville walked on, deciding not to look back at the ship, heading into the remains of the city. As Neville approached a deserted dismount he looked shockingly over the city, viewing nothing but destruction and signs of chaos, cars alight, roofs collapsed and bricks scattered spontaneously. The fear of escaping the patrols still nibbled away at him like a hungry squirrel finding the last acorn. Neville walked further down the hill and onto the streets, coming to the first house that didn’t look as tattered as the others. Mystified by its contents, Neville looked for the nearest entrance, quickly spotting a petit opening between the panels of the surrounding fence that lead to the rear of the house. He mounted the fence and kicked the panel lightly as it fell easily out and onto the one concrete slab below. As he squeezed between the panels and resurfaced himself he noticed a large ladder propped against the side of the house, which fell seconds later to the floor and crashed into small pieces. The rear of the house was full of shrapnel, broken tiles, wood and more bricks, along with the shed that’s roof was swinging from its hinges and dangling over one side. A swing blew in time with the breath of the wind, just as clouds covered the sun and created an eerie atmosphere of dread. Neville walked eagerly passed an assumed bathroom window, noticing the decaying wood and excessive signs of mould emerging from the window arms. The overgrown grass and rotten weeds protruded from every possible crevice around the garden, as it was warmed by the gentle hand of the sun’s rays. The house looked around seventy years old from the type of bricks and structure, especially when Neville noticed the décor inside and a humid smell that reminded him of visiting his grandmother. Drips of rain could be heard pottering down the tubes of the piping that ran along the roof and down to a drain below. A maroon thick door stood partly together from the middle of the rear of the house. Chips of wood stood beneath it, Neville peered through the gaps, deciding on his next move as he was scared at what he might see or find. He walked forward, arm adrift to open the door, just as he
stopped dead about a foot away from the door, focussing his ear by cupping it. His hearing came back in range and he stood there listening to an electronic sound, which sounded like it was coming from up the stairs of the house. The noise continued bleeping and churning a few more minutes. Neville then bravely grasped the bronze lion head knocker on the door pulled it back and knocked, although to his astonishment the door swung open. A chocking whirl of dust came bursting out through the doors and into the garden, Neville unintentionally eating some of the content, resulting in him spurting and coughing frantically. Cobwebs were almost everywhere you looked, covering the corner of the room and archways with a thick white web, making Neville queasy at the thought of the size of the creature that formed them. Neville pondered the thought for a while, dreaming up a creature so horrid and gangly with giant eyes and teeth that dripped with saliva. Neville slowly jumped out of his nightmare, totally disorientated at first but he remembered what he was doing a split second later. He fought his way through to the kitchen area and headed for the stairs where he could hear the mechanical sound. As the sight of the stairs came into view Neville couldn’t believe the condition they were in, completely battered, panels missing, protruding metal along with scatterings of chipboard and dust. The floorboards groaning and yelped as Neville step foot on them, each making their own unique voice heard. Reaching the top was much to be desired, as the rooms were only just being supported correctly and gave a real sense of danger in their appearance. The gushing wind made Neville unconsciously swivel assertively to look at a small room where an open window clattered gracefully against the window pane. The window was fitted with perfectly cut cream coloured net curtains that shimmered slowly. Neville felt a cold tingling sensation as the atmosphere built to an unimaginable dark and grim overcast from the room itself. The room that Neville was approaching was filled with broken furniture, torn beds, smashed picture frames and a lopsided table. Neville entered and headed for the window, noticing the disgustingly yellow stained walls as he did. As he walked through towards the open window he stood still and gazed out of the window from an arm’s length away, looking out of the corner of his eye, for he had a strange feeling he was being watched. The noise gradually increased as Neville clocked the sound, which he had unknowingly blocked out moments earlier. The metallic clatter was borderline unbearable, rattling in Neville’s ears with each churn. Neville started to sweat incredulously as he stood motionless, waiting to discover the creator of the sounds that were now echoing around the house. There was one last bang and then the room was filled with deadly silence and Neville’s heartbeat. Neville was still facing the window, where he spotted something in the reflection of the window, making his hairs stand up on his back instantly. He couldn’t bear turning around, although he was intrigued to find out what had been making the noise. He slowly turned around, where he saw the sunlight that surrounded the door frame and a small metallic device in the middle of the door observing him.
The device was about a level with Neville’s knee and bore an intimidating look straight at him. The piece of machinery has wheels emerging from the base and the head looked similar to that of a human structure. Small green eyes pierced out of the head of the machinery that was the purest green Neville has ever seen. The middle of the machinery contained an array of flashing lights and chipboards working away healthily. At first sight Neville was scared as he moved closer to the window, escaping its fearful stare.
“Hi, what is your name?” spoke the mechanical object standing before him in the doorway, its lights increasing as he spoke. Neville remained silent for some time, utterly perplexed that it spoke to him; he thought for a moment that he was losing his mind. The mechanical object’s voice sounded rather croaky as if it hadn’t spoken to anyone for a while.
“Hi, I’m Neville. I’m looking for my parents. I have come from America to find them” chirped Neville, throwing all caution to the wind in desperation.
“Nice to meet you Neville, I’m called surveillance 2615, but you can call me Zoom, my friends call me this” replied Zoom, as Neville cast a questioning look back at him. Zoom started to move forward towards Neville, making a churning noise on the wooden floor, sounding like a drinking slurp heard in the distance. Neville walked backwards, gently bumping into the skirting board with a knock, trying to decide whether it was safe to come into contact with such a device, as Neville had no idea where this device was from or what he was doing here in England.
“I have some news Neville. According to my calculations you are in search of someone to be here in England?” asked Zoom encouragingly.
“Yes-I just told you that” deemed Neville.
“Really? Oh It must be my receivers, I’ve been buried for two weeks under rubble under the stairs and I have only just managed to set myself free. You don’t mind if I clean them do you?” replied Zoom, sounding very daft, Neville smiled over to him sympathetically.
“So…why are you here and why are you the only one I’ve come across on the land?” said Neville, changing the subject intentionally.
“I’m a working surveillance machine that has been built to find civilians, eliminate codes 2, 6, 8, and 14, and to prepare the country for regeneration. Mr Marvel is our creator, building us nine years ago” replied Zoom, sounding as geeky as ever.
“What are those codes all about?” asked Neville gracefully as he tried to assure further details.
“I’m sorry, I am not programmed to give out this information to persons with no authority” said Zoom kindly. Neville frowned annoyingly as he starred back at the machine, desperate to find out what he means, although he cannot.
“The search for human activity so far has been limited, which is due to a programming error the developers did not foresee, resulting in chaos and casualties” interjected Zoom, forming a nice picture for Neville who struggled with every effort to form anything in his mind.
“You mean the war, don’t you?” said Neville, slightly louder than normal.
“There is no need to shout Neville. I will not talk if you shout” replied Zoom angrily.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound that way” added Neville.
“Yes, there was a war between Scotland and England…America also added their contribution to the disagreements. America formed an alliance that would regenerate Great Britain and not just England, although they did suffer substantially more damage. America formed ‘The Regeneration Programme’, which was supported by A.I.R and a small upcoming company called ‘Viseye’. The company’s most successful achievement was the ‘Imp’ gadget, incorporating a variety of computer devices, such as watch, alarm, PC, WAP and WCIL (Wireless City Infrastructure Log, or ‘Whistle’ is its street name), where all the features are embedded into the wrist and eye. The companies saw revenues of over sixteen million dollars” said Zoom shakily as Neville listened and maintained constant eye contact. Neville well absorbed in the facts that Zoom was all too good at retrieving.
“Neville, I want you to see these clips I have collated whilst talking to you, as I feel you will be able to uncover what happened yourself. You are from what we call the ‘Missing text’ era” finished Zoom, expecting a laugh that never arrived. Neville yawned as he gazed around the room, watching the light disappear out of the room and back up into the clouds.
“Right, here we go then” added Zoom impatiently, as his head and middle started moving, forming a screen and projector that was covering his face. Images flashed rapidly in the reflection of Neville’s eyes as he starred contently, trying with every ounce of energy to maintain his attention. Neville was still mesmerised that he was talking to a robot that he found his mind wondering from the screen.
“Pay attention, I’m not going to show this again” said Zoom abruptly.
“How do you-” replied Neville quietly.
“Just watch, I can assure you that you will find it most relevant” replied Zoom, rewinding the clip. Neville imagined the reaction on someone’s face if he tried to explain what
had happened on the trip, laughing quietly to himself.
The images were a series of sights, news clips, newspaper headlines, thoughts, translations and eye-witness’s reports. Neville tried focussing on the clips but they were gone before he had time to comprehend the content. He did however capture some images of men in overalls similar to that of the patrols on the docks. Crying children and despair mothers filled the screen, shocking Neville, as he took the images seriously. A report popped up that had the headline ‘The story of behind the book’, and then quickly changed to a news reporter alerting the public to stay in their homes and to not attempt to reach loved ones. Herds of civilians swamped the streets of London, Birmingham and Cardiff as the news team reported on the chaos that was unfolding. The screen zoomed in on crowds of people fighting, looting and protesting, as riot police struggled to keep the crowds under control, Neville watched as a man was dragged to the floor and arrested. A feint siren could be heard in the background that sounded similar to a war declaration one used in the first and second world wars. Whispers of helicopters and firing of ammunition filled the night sky, creating an artistic display. The sight of war reminded Neville of his great grandfather, just before he died. Even though he could only remember him at parties, birthdays and when he used to go shopping the odd occasion and slip five pounds into his pocket, which his great grandfather referred to as fifty-pence and winked. The clips were a taster for Neville as to what chaos and war looked like, making Neville sick to the deepest dungeons of his stomach. The clip started to come to an end, as the picture quality faded away and Zoom’s drivers struggled to play it any longer. Zoom realised and ended the clip abruptly.