“The weather tomorrow will be normal for this time of year. Midday temperatures of 32 degrees Celsius,” she informs him. 32? Is that all it was? He thought it had been hotter. It was 17 when he left Mataiox.
“Thank you Yulra and when do schools break up for the summer?”
“The summer holiday will start on July the twentieth, our special Commemorative Holiday,” the voice tells him, sounding as composed as ever, so Gax asks her if she, Yulra, will celebrate the holidays as well. “Every day is a holiday for those of us that see serving as essential to growth,” she intones, but somehow Gax is convinced that the automated words sound more…automated. He asks her the perfect holiday destination and Yulra directs him to his television screen, which cannot be missed, even if you tried. “You will see a list with the most popular destinations available to you,” Yulra tells him and the screen comes on with a list of exactly three options. Gax stares at the enormous screen. Three holiday options? Seriously?
“Thanks Yulra,” he says, sarcastically, but it seems that his automated servant has a very thick skin, for she thanks him politely. “So how old are you, Yulra?” he asks, as the chances of going on holiday are zilch, even if there are only three options. The voice tells him that she will be happy to be any age he would like her to be, as his happiness is her prime concern. Gax snorts with laughter and informs Yulra that he won’t ask her age again. “So Yulra,” he says, still giving the odd snort now and then, “are you married?” The calm voice tells him it isn’t within her abilities to marry and also, the word ‘marry’ is no longer in use. This has been replaced by ‘getting Attached’, as it better describes the relationship. “Aw, that’s a shame,” he snorts, empathetically, “so are you in love?”
Immediately the atmosphere changes, the television screen comes on, and a very stern looking man appears, wearing very formal attire. “We have noted your misguided interest in love as a feeling,” the man says, staring hard at Gax, who sits with his mouth wide open, breathing quick shallow breaths through his mouth. He nods involuntarily, not sure whether the man can actually see him or not. “We will now explain the true meaning of love for you to grasp, hoping it will prevent further incidents which will be added to your record, leading eventually to sanctions,” the man continues, still glaring in a very unloving way, Gax notices, having slightly recovered from the initial shock. He is increasingly sure it is a recording, making him sit back in his chair a bit more easily. He is curious as to what the man will say and wishes he could inform Linu and the team leader that here ‘love’ is a bigger minefield than it already is at home.
The man on the screen brings up some powerpoint slides and Gax learns that being in love is a misunderstood emotion that has no place in an ordered society. “Over the years, wild, uncontrolled feelings of what people described as love led to debauchery, grief, abuse and loss of joy,” the man says, staring at Gax as if daring him to disagree. “In an ordered society there is no need for wilful feelings based on hormones or fleeting interests,” he continues, “and as a society we are grateful for the rational way we now deal with this. Love is an action, something you do. It is a conscious decision we make, enhancing our lives in doing so.” Gax purses his lips. It’s partly true of course. ‘Love your enemies’ in the Book is of course an action, not an emotion, but still, finding a spouse surely should include some feelings? “People who think they need to fall in love will also accept there is a falling out of love, leading to chaos in society. A society with people divided against each other based on imbalanced, unhinged feelings will disintegrate by itself. On the other hand, a society that understands the need for carefully trained and guided feelings will go from strength to strength. We all are grateful for our calm society based on factual information, not infatuations. We are thankful for the research committees and especially the City Council for implementing their scientific finds, leading to our joyful and harmonious society.” After one last glare the screen goes blank again, and Gax rubs his face. Did he just listen to all that? What is he to make of it? Of course, it’s partly true that people falling in and out of love cause heartache and chaos in society, but still…should a government restrict that? Gax feels dizzy, the questions and arguments tumbling round his head, accompanied by the man’s glaring eyes.
“Yulra, I’m off to bed,” he says, feeling he can’t take anymore, worried more than ever about his mission. “Upstairs lights on please, downstairs ones off.” Yulra obeys, and he is still too annoyed with her for reporting him to whoever the man was on the screen to thank her. He struggles up the stairs, his legs worse than ever, with just one thought: Tomorrow will be his first day in the city of Elabi and his mission will have properly started.
Chapter 5
From the pitch darkness and total silence Gax can tell it’s the middle of the night. He is feeling wide awake as his thoughts try to process his first day here. He didn’t try to speak to anyone in the shop, but feels he needs to understand better how society works. He doesn’t want to stand out, but rather fly under the radar. He swallows when remembering the glaring eyes of the man on the screen later that evening, staring at him, telling him that they had noted his question. Do they keep a record of all inappropriate questions people ask? And will it affect his stay in Elabi? Gax starts to feel hot again. What if his mission is compromised before he has even started? “I didn’t know it was a forbidden question,” he grumbles, making the Automated Servant speak up immediately.
“Sorry, I did not get that, please repeat the question,” her metallic voice doesn’t sound like she feels sorry for landing him in it yesterday. He feels like telling her off, or asking her what other topics are taboo, but decides against it, just in case that in itself is worthy of another lecture. Instead he asks her the time. “It is 2.35, that is twenty-five minutes to three in the morning,” her voice definitely too cheery for the time of night. Gax sighs, just gone half past two, he’ll be tired in the morning at this rate. He feels wide awake though. He walks over to the window, looking out over the pitch black countryside. In the distance he can see the beams of the lighthouse, somehow intensifying the rest of the darkness. Gax sighs again, then pulls a face. He’s sounding like an old, weary man.
As he can’t sleep he tells Yulra to switch on the light. Yulra obliges straight away, and even asks if he wants his music on. “No thanks, I will read for a while,” Gax says, then regrets it as Yulra promptly asks what he is reading.
“You are classed as Consuete,” the automated voice says flatly, “which means that the type and number of books available to you will be limited. As your record holds a note of warning it is my duty to inform you of this.” Gax drops down on his bed. So he was right. Having his silly question noted has left a mark on his record and it will be held against him. Will it appear on his work record as well? Maybe he should ask Linu? He stops, again remembering her absence, realising how much he relies on her and the rest of the team. He knew it was a one man operation, he had been trained as a lone operator, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. Gax stares ahead, not seeing the shadowy walls, but rather the cool classrooms and the training fields around Mataiox. How he misses them all.
He shakes his head, “No use wishing for stuff.” He has a mark on his record from his silly game with his Automated Servant. He knew that Elabi society was based on logic and facts, but he hadn’t realised how far they went. Now he knows and he will need to be more cautious. He knew Linu had registered him as a Consuete citizen when she had hacked into the city registry, although he’d objected and said that being an Umbo would be more fun and interesting. She had looked at him over her glasses, like an annoyed grade teacher and told him that as an Umbo questions would be asked, he would be scrutinised more and limited in his options as to who he could meet with. He had rolled his eyes and playfully called her a spoilsport, but he knew she was right. However, he now wonders if he would have been better off as an Umbo, to have access to more books.
Thinking about the morning make
s his stomach cramp, although he insists, even to himself, that it’s excitement. He’s excited about going to work, meeting people, maybe even make his first connection. So much can happen in a day. He wonders if there will be people from his own status, or lower, in the bookshop, if they are limited in their reading. The night air is cold and Gax is glad to slide back under the cover with his Book, vaguely realising he never answered Yulra’s question about what he was reading. He hopes it won’t lead to anything. The familiar words sooth his spirit, making the physical effects of the excitement go away and soon the words become blurry.
Morning arrives too soon, especially as Yulra’s joyful voice tells him to rise, grasp the day and turn it into something beautiful. “Thanks,” he yawns, turning his sarcastic ‘love you too’ into a cough and rattle, the shock of the near miss making him feel wide awake! He makes some tasteless porridge, drizzles more honey on it than he should, just to make it up the hill, he argues. He is nervous, hardly able to sit down to eat, double checking his cloth Bergen several times for the glass containers. He runs through the mental checklist too.
No lies, no untruths, I’m a Consuete, just moved into my great uncle’s house (which is technically true) and started work today (also true). Hopefully not too many other questions will be asked. Gax is finally ready to go. He tells Yulra to switch everything off, locks the door behind him, looks up to the city and takes a deep breath. “Here we go,” he whispers. The morning air is still cool, although there is a warm edge to it. Gax feels good, and is tempted to go jogging up the hill. He decides to restrain himself and just walk sedately up the steep roads. The city looks dark against the low morning sun, and Gax shivers. What if he fails, letting down the team, undoing months of preparation and making it harder for another operator to try again. If his first day is anything to judge by, he might be in for a hard time. Instead of giving in to his dark feelings, he turns round, looking across the wide river, spotting the red stone bridge far in the distance. The endless vistas lift his spirits and Gax straightens his back, shoulders back and down, head up. Soon he passes close by the little shop, and higher and higher the road winds up the hill, until he spots the city gates. Gax swallows, for this is it, he is now entering Elabi. He is doing what no outsider has done for many years.
The city gates are wide open, their bright colours look welcoming and the terracotta houses beyond add to the sense of warmth and pleasantness. In contrast, the city guards give scowling, dark looks to the passers-by and Gax forces his hands to unclench, wiping them dry on his trousers as he walks through the gate. He keeps on walking, half expecting one of them to stop him and growl, “You’ve been noted, young man,” but nothing happens. Gax has studied the city map many times and repeats the instructions in his head, making sure his lips aren’t moving along. He is grateful for the time with the map now, as it gives him the confidence to keep going.
“Past the library, past the other offices, yes, this road next…” It looks very different in real life and a few times Gax hesitates. It was just a map and no one knows where the team got the map from. It could be out of date, or even contain false information. Gax feels tempted to ask somebody but everyone seems to be in a hurry. He can’t help noticing their gloomy faces, until they meet another person, at which time their faces transform and they call out a cheery greeting, telling the other how well they’re doing and how glad they are it’s such gorgeous weather.
Gax thinks about this whilst studying the houses and businesses he passes. Surely the weather is stable here and being so far north, it’s often warm. So why comment on the gorgeous weather? What is making people react in such a happy way when they spot a friend? At all other times they seem sullen, sad or both. Gax has a sudden naughty thought that maybe their logical love isn’t working as well as it should.
Gax is pleased when he spots the shop. The outside looks conservative but welcoming. He’d had an awful vision of an armed guard standing at the door, checking your citizenship status in order to get into the shop so to see a welcoming display makes him feel better. Gax walks up to the door, gingerly pushes the large metal handle and the door opens. Gax enters the shop and a little metal bell rattles over his head. What should he do now? The wooden floor creaks slightly as he takes a step forward. The heavy footfalls coming towards him are unmistakably those of a manager. The huge man raises his chin in welcome and says, “I’m Grabus, the manager.” The heavy guttural G makes Gax’s throat hurt just thinking it! “I’m an Umbo,” the large man continues and Gax is sure that he brings it up in every conversation. He obviously earned his way up. “As an Umbo I will have more liberties and responsibilities than you,” he says, “so if there are any questions outside your skill zone, let me know. This morning, dust the tables, straighten books, just general tidying and observing.” And away he stomps, leaving Gax to wish for the soft green carpet in the bookshop at home. Gax follows the manager at a little distance, hoping to get to a staff room where he can leave his Bergen and find a cleaning cloth.
The manager walks past a bright orange door, half turns and waves an imperial hand towards it and raises his chin. Then marches on. Gax takes it that he is meant to go through the orange door and he is pleased to find a small but cool staffroom. Small square windows let in the morning light which bounces off the mint coloured walls, but keeps out the heat. There is a woman in the staffroom, doing her bright purple nails. She barely looks up, raises a very well shaped chin and carries on. He notices that the woman is very pretty, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun, bringing out her high cheekbones. Her lightly tanned skin looks soft and smooth and Gax judges she is in her mid-twenties. He likes the long flowing dress she’s wearing, the blue and purple woven together into an attractive pattern. Her large wooden purple earrings suit her face, making it look less harsh with her pulled back hair. Gax hesitates, should he introduce himself? Just pop his Bergen down and start polishing, or what? He decides to do the latter, as the woman seems totally oblivious to his existence.
He finds a suitable corner for his Bergen, being mindful of his glass containers, then looks round for a cloth. After a minute he gives up, feeling self conscious just standing there in the middle of the room and he really doesn’t want to go round opening and shutting cupboard doors. He licks his lips and says to the woman, “Um, sorry, but I’m looking for a cleaning cloth to do some dusting round the shop? My name is Gax by the way.” Just in time he remembers to make his voice lilt and bounce up at the end of the sentence. The woman stops her nail care and points her chin to a tall cupboard.
“Pink cloth for dusting, yellow for wet cleaning,” she says, “and my name is Inritia.” Straight away her nails get all her attention again and Gax shuts his mouth which had opened to answer the woman, maybe thank her for the cloth, ask her how long she’s been at the shop… just general chit chat, like co-workers normally do. He realises it’s not going to happen, so he opens the cupboard, grabs a pink cloth from the stack and goes into the bookshop. He is eager to have a look round the shop, look at the titles. Will it be clear which level of citizen the book is for? Is there an elite section maybe? He wonders what will have replaced all the love stories and gooey novels, if falling in love is taboo. How about loving yourself, is that frowned upon as well? Judging by how sad people looked on their way to work he wonders what sort of books most workers read. Gax walks into the shop, looking both ways, trying to orientate himself. The selection doesn’t seem huge. That doesn’t surprise him; after all, with only three holiday destination options your travel book corner isn’t going to be bursting at the seams.
He decides to start dusting the section called Psychology, which turns out to be one of the largest. A book on special display has the man with the glaring eyes. “Logical Living In Your Home’’ it’s called, and Gax shivers. The man had really disturbed him last night, with his staring eyes and he is curious to read the book. Gax hopes he will get a staff discount.
Chapter 6
Dusting the shelves, straighten
ing the books and just generally pottering around is a nice way to start the day, Gax decides. He hasn’t seen a single book title or author that he recognises. He has learned a few things, though. For example, the glaring man from the screen is Brutus Durus, Amp. The man is a member of the Amplissimos, the top council. Gax wonders if all the members of the Amplissimos are on the screen whenever you are ‘noted’. Not that he plans to find out, of course. It is his aim to stay well off their radar for as long as he can. He sees quite a few books written by Brutus Durus, most of them dealing with home life and family life. Gax thinks back to the man’s stern face.
After cleaning and tidying the psychology section Gax moves on to the part of the shop that has gifts and cards. There are mostly cheerful designs and some wonderful artwork, he notices. However, at one card stand he can’t help but notice the subdued, grey toned cards which say, “Farewell” or “May your Journey be Smooth.”. Gax wonders what they mean and in the end he surreptitiously opens one up. The text inside reads, “May your last Journey be all you wish for. You will be missed, never forgotten. Living on in our hearts, therefore forever with us.” Gax puts the card back, trying to think who you’d send a card like that to. Someone going on a journey who isn’t planning to come back? There are quite a few designs with the Farewell message on it. He would like to find out about it, but who can he ask, without raising too many questions? Even Yulra can’t be trusted.
Walled City (The Elabi Chronicles Book 1) Page 3