by Aya DeAniege
“Sixteen hundred people lost their lives. Numerous were wounded in the first riots. The cost of putting down the riots was in the millions, but the cost of the rebellion it would birth in later years is still being felt.
“Cavell resigned in disgrace after the first riots ended. He would later take his life in a motel room on the outer edges of a slum, having lost his family’s fortune trying to regain his position at the capital.”
The rebellion took place years later, but those who rebelled claimed the riots as when they began planning. The government cracking down on surveillance, going public with the fact that we were always watched at all times, didn’t help matters. Building walls around the slums was just a stupid idea, but politicians weren’t exactly known for being intelligent in their decisions.
A week into the riots, martial law was enacted.
For the poor people, realizing that there was a third class was surprising. The military was made up of men and women who were taken as children. Orphans, mainly. Unwanted children whose mothers were convinced to carry to term and give up for adoption. There were some few poor rich who sold a younger child to the government to get our of debt, or to give an older child the education they needed to bring in wealth.
Those in the military didn’t carry debt, per say.
But they knew how and from where they came.
They held no love for the slums.
They were mainly reserves, trainees who hadn’t seen fighting yet. We were fighting wars overseas for control of black lands, but no one in the slums knew that.
None of us were told how badly the collapse hit other countries or the fact that we were waging a war over what was once France.
I was terrified.
There was no way for me to know how my family was doing because no one was allowed access to what was going on inside the slums. My previous contract with Nathaniel had stated that I couldn’t contact my family. It had ended and then the whole problem began. No one had ever taught me how to use the surveillance system. I couldn’t look into it myself. Mr. Wrightworth was far too busy for me to bother with such a silly request. So I just never saw them.
The Program didn’t know, the other slums didn’t know, the rich people didn’t. Everyone just lived their lives and was either happy nothing was trying to kill them, or just trying to survive until the next day. The news stations would have snippets, but didn’t report the whole story, just vague generalizations as to what was going on. Military officials would give statements and talk about a successful operation like they were doctors excising cancerous tissue.
No one talks about what did happen. Like it never did happen.
Rape and war crimes are what happened.
Each slum was brought to heel. Even those who had no involvement in the first riots saw military on their streets. Starting a fight, even protecting a wife or sister, resulted in debt being added to one’s genetic profile. It became a crime to protect your family. Protesting rape? Well, fuck you. And your sister and your mother and your aunts, any daughters you might have as well.
Of course, there were women in the military, but they didn’t see slum women as people. We were an infestation to them. Each woman would mean a multitude of more poor people in the next generation. Each of us was the mother that abandoned them.
So they didn’t care.
That cold-hearted, borderline sociopathic behaviour is what won us a war. Doesn’t make it right, though.
Somehow life went on.
A month after the riots began all word of them just stopped.
I was still in the Program building because all of us were on lock down for our safety. During that month I had no idea what was happening with Nathaniel either. Mr. Wrightworth did his best, but the government had put a gag order on pretty well everything, especially anything that might have led back to the riots.
It was another three weeks before I was pulled in and formally offered a contract. I made certain who the contract was from, then accepted without reading the terms. I trusted Nathaniel and Mr. Wrightworth not to screw me over.
For a majority of the country, life simply went on the way it had before the riots. Perhaps a little stricter, with more scars, but everyone was getting up and going to work in the morning, eating the same food as before, living in the same places.
And then there was me.
Accepting a contract with Nathaniel and getting ready to face the biggest fight of my life. The same day I took the contract, I was contacted by the prosecution and told of the impending trial of Albert Edwards.
Life had never been so complicated.
How I yearned for the days when I could just be tied up and spanked.
***
The story continues in Contract Renewed. Get your copy here.
Coming Soon:
Masked Intentions
Daughters of the Alphas Book One
My name is Rachel.
In my world, genetically ‘superior’ humans are called Alphas. They spend their lives trying to outdo one another and accumulating wealth in the form of property, money, and companions.
What’s a companion you ask?
I am.
We’re humans who carry what the Alphas call the G14 genetic marker. That particular sequence of genes means that under the right conditions we will break and form an everlasting bond with the one who breaks us, Alpha or human.
Women were once excluded from the selection and breaking process, but when the Alphas overthrew the government, everything changed.
I was been caught, charged with a ridiculous crime, and they’ve decided it’s time to break me.
I won’t go down without a fight.
At Death's Door
Wraith's Rebellion Book I
I was chosen to interview a man who claimed to be something more. I expected the usual drabble about culture and art and history that all the other interviewers received. With a little fluff and maybe just the slightest hint of intrigue.
I don’t think any of us truly believes they are what they claim they are: vampires. None have witnessed feeding, no hard evidence of their lives throughout history are given.
I personally believe it’s a giant con, perhaps a huge PR move before a movie is announced or something. This is the real world, vampires and supernatural creatures don’t exist. If they did, we’d know about them long ago.
In one night, my whole world was turned upside down. It’s a story that spans centuries, of secrets no mortal has ever been told.
The other vampires hadn’t been telling pre-approved stories constructed by the Council, they had just led really boring lives. Quin, on the other hand, has spent his immortal life near the Council, running from his Maker, yet unable to escape the man’s grasp.
This is his story.
Prototype*
An Aurora Novel
(*Working Title)
My name is Maggy Doyle. I have a three-year-old daughter, a husband, a home, and an extended family. I work a secretary job for a lawyer’s office and spend my days just trying to fly under the radar of pretty well everyone.
See, five years ago, I was found wandering around a field. I don’t recall anything before that moment. I had no idea who I was. If it weren’t for Harry, if not for how much he loved me before the incident, I would have probably been lost forever.
Imagine my surprise when I opened my front door one day to find men standing there, demanding my daughter and me go with them. They wouldn’t answer my questions or tell me where they were taking us.
There’s this nagging at the back of my mind telling me that it has to do with Aurora. The still new, third world we were linked to, ruled by a woman who is said to have not only created the world, but also animals, and who knew what else.
What could she possibly want with twenty people ranging from late teens to middle-aged? The only thing we have in common is amnesia. Our lives before a certain point were erased. We didn’t do anything wrong, none of us know each other and our in
cidents were months or even years apart.
We’re completely harmless.
I think.
About the Author
Aya DeAniege wrote for years, first to please herself then writing stories for free—believing no one would ever pay to read her stuff—before pursuing indie publishing. She still writes mainly for personal pleasure, with topics ranging from romance, fantasy, science fiction, on to whatever takes her fancy in the future. World creation fascinates her, and when she finds one she likes, she dabbles endlessly.
Connect on:
Facebook: Aya DeAniege
Twitter: @DeAniege_A
Wordpress: A Little World with a Big Story
Email: [email protected]