by Ryan Gawley
‘Broadcasting the signal at that rate, well it may cause some headache or nausea which may mean people stop watching the screens which is why we reduced the signal strength. On all test subjects force fed with non-contaminated rations the lower intensity proved to have minimal perceivable side effects.’
‘So Mr. Albright, please tell us when we can expect to see positive results, for your sake it had better be soon,’ said Henderson leaning forward in his chair and gripping the marble table top with his stubby fingers.
‘Sir, if I may explain,’ whimpered the technician, ‘the Dreg factory worker we paid to deliver the chemical agent to the ration mix was not in work for a few days. His son was ill so he took some time off. I personally made the call to confirm if he had successfully added the compound to the ingredient vats and learned of the delay. I thought it wouldn’t throw off the schedule by any significant measure.’
‘Well then kindly explain to us why there is only a slow trickle of reports of the psychosis so far,’ enquired another of the Council members becoming more irate.
‘It was unavoidable sir, when the worker returned to the factory another man had been put on his duty station in his absence and it was few days until the rota pattern returned to normal. It was too late to recruit another worker so I made the decision to wait. I mean there was nothing else we could do,’ said the technician, his voice quivering.
‘I see,’ said Henderson forcing a calm, controlled tone. ‘Well, you did your best, I can see that.’
‘Yes sir, I assure you the project will not fail.’
‘And the saboteur you hired, what of him?’ enquired Henderson
‘He has been silenced sir, once I had confirmed the compound had been delivered I told the Enforcer squad you had stationed to take him for interrogation relating to crimes not linked to the Project. He won’t be seen again I can assure you.’
‘Excellent work Mr. Albright, you have our thanks for your efforts, now please leave us to discuss other matters.’
‘Yes sir, thank you sir,’ said the terrified technician and with great relief he ended the presentation and slinked out of the room to return to the sanctuary of his lab.
When the boardroom door had closed Henderson tapped and swiped through a list of contacts on his tablet and patched a call to the Chief of Command, General Curran. The large display panel came back to life again displaying a head and shoulders view of the General as he sat behind his own heavy wooden desk.
‘Ah General, I am sending you profile details for one of our senior technicians, I want you have this man discretely arrested before he leaves the building. I believe you have a special squad for more unusual tasks. Please arrange for his tongue to be removed as well as a hand, a foot and an eye but keep him alive. Then send the parts to his family and ship what’s left of him to the prison farms. He’ll be not worth much down there and won’t last long but the guards will have fun with him.’
The General looked to the desk mounted screen beside him and acknowledged receipt of the request. ‘Understood Victor, I’ll dispatch a team now,’ and with that he disrespectfully terminated the call before Henderson had a chance to do so, much to Henderson’s annoyance.
‘Sir, do you think that’s a bit extreme? Albright is a loyal man; he has been with the Project from the start.’ It was Doctor Follis, head of the Research team and member of the Upper Council speaking up for his employee. As with his colleagues he knew Henderson rarely listened to reason but this harsh punishment was beyond any he had handed down yet.
‘Doctor Follis, as head of the Council I can issue any order I see fit. I will not tolerate incompetence and you would do well to ensure the rest of your subordinates know the consequences of failure.’
The other Council members shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, all knowing that together their majority had the authority to overrule Henderson but individually none had the courage to speak up after hearing how Follis had been reprimanded.
‘Now gentlemen a reminder that effective immediately all sector barrier gates between Elite and Dreg sectors will be locked down. Elites are free to come and go from the city via the perimeter gates but the sector division gates are in lockdown to prevent migration of affected subjects into our areas. The same protocol will be in effect in Rook City so if any of your family are in the habit of crossing into the Dreg sector for black market goods or to pay for more intimate pleasures you should understand that they are at risk of being locked out home so to speak.’
From the end of the table the eldest of the Council members leaned forward to address Henderson. ‘Victor, the contempt General Curran holds for the Council is obvious. Are you sure we can continue to trust him?’
‘Don’t worry Mr. McGlade, although General Curran commands his Enforcer troops we have authority to override any of the city’s automated control systems. If he fails to shut the gates we can enter our access codes and do it remotely from here,’ said Henderson gesturing toward the recessed control interface in the heavy marble table around which they sat. It is absolutely secure gentlemen and I am sure General Curran will perform his duties admirably but I trust you feel more at ease knowing we have this failsafe.’
The other men around the table looked to each other, all thinking the same thing but none daring to admit they had more faith in the renegade General than in their elected leader.
‘Well, I think that should be all, I have an afternoon appointment so I will see you in the morning,’ said Henderson indicating the meeting was over. He called up another contact on his tablet but kept the conversation to the built in display.
‘Derek, meet me below the office in ten minutes would you. I’m going to the club.’
When the room was cleared and he had the darkened space to himself Henderson looked out through the thick floor to ceiling glass as the wind drove streaks of rain across its surface. The irony of having the entitlement to the highest office and grandest home in the entire city yet that same position providing the best view into the decaying Dreg quarters and the distant perimeter wall was something that ate away at Henderson.
Every day he rose he from his bed, drew back the curtain to admire all that he commanded and every day in the distance saw a rotting blot on the landscape, the discarded remnants of the old society. Who were they to hang on so long, mocking him with their very presence? What the crash hadn’t destroyed he had stamped out. Most of the schools were closed, the remainder were overcrowded and ineffective, over sixty percent of factories were closed, the hospitals were reduced to providing placebos and field dressings and the Elite controlled Central Medical service was just a front for experimental medical procedures. The street gangs were a result of sustained high unemployment, terrorising and destroying their own neighbourhoods. The Elites had given the Dregs their own sector, provided basic employment in the remaining factories manufacturing machine parts for export or processing raw materials from the prison farms into rations for the hungry masses. Did they not appreciate the opportunity for work?
All this had been carefully planned and operated in an effort to keep the Dregs dependent on the Elites but if the Dregs realised their numbers were so great they could rise up and take back the city for themselves, something Henderson could not allow to happen.
As he looked to the horizon toward Rook City he imagined the carnage unfolding. The Elites could no longer allow the Dreg scourge to fester on their doorstep. Without military backing from General Curran and with insufficient troops the Upper Council had approved the Project to cause the Dregs to destroy themselves. The Dregs would be annihilated and in the chaos General Curran’s Enforcers would be so hugely outnumbered that they too would have their ranks greatly reduced.
The Elites would survive intact and when the remaining Enforcers mopped up the last of the trouble the Dreg quarters could be wiped clean. Any surviving Dregs would be pressed into service to clear and rebuild. A manageable number of servants would be all that was needed and the twin cities of Raven
City and Rook City would be a shining example of everything the Elites stood for. It would be Henderson’s greatest achievement, it would be his legacy.
A chirp from behind him woke Henderson from his musings and he looked around to see a message on his tablet which had been sent from his car by Derek Stone. ‘Ah, Derek, thank you. I was just finishing up here, I’ll be with you in a moment,’ he said realising he had become distracted and was now running late for his meeting at the club.
‘Is everything alright sir?’ asked Stone as he opened the rear door of the car for his employer.
‘Oh yes, thank you Derek, just a little setback but it’s all in order now. Just round to the club please and don’t delay, you’re a little late.’
‘Yes sir, the club,’ said Stone closing the door and swallowing the urge to slam it on Henderson’s skull.
‘He’s forgets I’m waiting for him and I’m the one whose late?’ Stone muttered to himself as he walked around to the driver’s door. ‘He’s definitely not paying me enough,’ he grumbled inwardly.
Stone plotted an efficient route using his mental map of the city preferring to use his own skills than to defer guidance to the on-board navigation system and before long they pulled up outside the massive granite pillars of an ornate bank building. It was no longer an operational bank since most financial transactions were now electronic making costly high street branches redundant. The extravagant building had been acquired by a secretive organisation for use as its private members club. Henderson’s father had enjoyed a membership but the rule was that no two family members could join at once so it was upon the death of his father that the exclusive membership passed to Victor Henderson junior.
Leading from the pavement up and over the worn stone steps a navy blue carpet held with brass fixtures welcomed the club members to the entrance. An elderly uniformed doorman shuffled forward to open the car door for Henderson but Stone stepped in his way throwing a hard stare and opened the door himself while checking the street all around. He knew the old man was just doing his job but Stone had a job to do as well.
Henderson entered the club and stood by the door for a moment to allow his coat to be taken to the cloakroom by the attendant. The club was staffed by lower ranking Elites for inside these walls no Dreg would ever be allowed to set foot. Derek Stone had to park the car across the street and wait in line with other personal drivers for their employers to return.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the dark, high ceilinged space Henderson walked across the rich deep carpet which had been laid over the original marble floor to preserve the silence. He approached the former tellers’ counters which had been replaced with a deeply waxed and polished mahogany topped bar behind which the many shelves were stocked with the best wines, spirits and liqueurs from around the world. Strictly no beer was served as it was seen as a working class beverage and something only the Dregs enjoyed. He asked for twelve year old single malt and ordered it on the rocks, oblivious to the barman’s silent disapproval of watering the fine liquor with ice.
Without waiting for his drink Henderson walked through the quiet room, savouring the smell of pipe tobacco and the pungent aroma from expensive cigars. Small groups of aged green leather chairs were gathered together like clusters of islands in a sea of plush blue carpet. On the walls hung priceless masterpieces and ancient books were displayed on heavily laden shelves. A respectful hush was maintained at all times and only the occasional rustle of a newspaper or the gentle murmur of quiet conversation rose above the high seat backs.
Although the club had moved to this location only thirty years previously the appearance and ambience was one of high class, tradition and time-steeped heritage. It was a look Henderson had strived and failed to achieve in his own home although it seemed only he was unaware of how widely he had missed the mark.
Henderson loved coming to the club. He was a powerful man amongst other powerful men and his rise to office had been discussed and agreed in this very building long before he had taken up membership. His own ruthlessness and ambition had helped him gain his high seat on the Council sooner than expected but he was unaware the path had already been set out for him by those who knew they would find him useful.
‘Victor, how are you?’ asked an elderly man with a deep tan, jet black dyed hair and thin moustache as he set down a huge cigar in a large crystal ash tray. He had the appearance of an aging film star who had refused to grow old gracefully and was fooling nobody with his unconvincing attempt to maintain a facade of youth. He didn’t try to get up from his chair but stuck out his wrinkled hand in greeting to the younger Henderson.
‘I’m very well John, very well,’ replied Henderson shaking the offered hand before sitting in the opposite chair.
‘And how are things progressing I wonder. Can I assume you have everything in order?’
‘Yes John, you needn’t worry. There was a small setback but..,’
‘Quiet,’ said the older man as he watched a waiter bring Henderson’s drink and hand it to him with a square napkin under the glass.
‘Thank you. Now, um, oh yes, a small set back,’ continued Henderson after the waiter had turned smartly and walked back to the bar. ‘There was a slight delay in the delivery of the chemical compound to the main food plant here in Raven City but it has been dealt with and we should expect reports of the first cases within a few days. Indications from Rook City are that the ripple effect predicted by Doctor Follis is as expected and already major street violence is stretching the Enforcers thin but no reported Enforcer casualties as yet.’
‘The delay is unfortunate but no matter. If Rook City is progressing as planned then it gives us an example of what we can expect here. It is General Curran that I am most concerned about. The Elites have control only for so long as the General acts as our guard dog, give him too much control and he becomes a serious threat. You have the system override we arranged?’
‘Yes John, I have everything under control, there is nothing to worry about,’ Henderson replied in a smug self-assured tone.
‘Don’t be so damn cocksure of yourself!’ blurted the older man in a sudden rage and he began coughing into a handkerchief while around them other club members lowered their drinks and newspapers to look scornfully in the direction of the outburst. Henderson squirmed with embarrassment at the stern reminder that his position of power meant nothing in these surroundings.
When the elder of the two men regained his composure he leaned forward, pointing his finger at Henderson and whispered angrily. ‘Remember we put you where you are and we can take the privilege away from you.’ He leaned back again and continued. ‘This is a huge risk we are taking but one which must be taken if we are to ensure the remaining resources of this country are used for the society which is entitled to them, not squandered supporting the filth beyond the barriers and outside the walls. Be careful and do as we planned or it could be very costly for you. Your fellow Brothers will only tolerate your situation for so long before they cut you off.’
‘Yes John, I understand and I can assure you that your trust has not been misplaced,’ grovelled Henderson, the arrogant streak in him overcome by his cowardice. He threw back his drink and got up to leave. ‘I’ll be sure to keep an eye on the General,’ he said but already the older man had turned his attention back to relighting his cigar and ignored the comment from Henderson.
‘Take me home Derek,’ said Henderson grumpily as he climbed into the back of the car. Stone knew the meeting hadn’t gone well from the gruff manner in which Henderson treated the club doorman as he left so said nothing and drove speedily but carefully through the early evening shadows of the tall glass towers surrounding them.
In the underground car park of Henderson’s residential tower Stone opened the door and Henderson huffed and puffed as he struggled out of the car and onto his feet. He walked to the lift without saying a word and was about to swipe his implant chip to order the lift to his penthouse when Stone appeared at the still o
pen doors.
‘Will that be all sir?’ he asked.
‘Ah, yes that’s all for today Derek, thank you. See you in the morning.’
Stone turned and heard the doors close behind him as the lift began the rapid ascent to the top floor.
‘She better not try anything today, he’s in a foul mood,’ Stone said to himself then took the car home wishing Kathy luck as he drove fantasising about the cold beers he had in his fridge.
As the lift climbed and he left the world far below Henderson’s temper cooled but he was still angry with the old man at the club and angrier at himself for showing weakness. As he entered the apartment he was on his guard for Kathy, half expecting another escape attempt but he’d be ready for her. As he hung his coat he looked around to see she was approaching him but this time not running or holding a weapon. She was dressed nicely for once and actually met him at the door rather than having to be summoned.
He was surprised by his daughter’s pleasant behaviour and allowed himself to believe he had perhaps finally broken her spirit.
‘Pour me a drink and then make me something to eat, I’ll be in my office,’ and with that he marched up the right hand staircase toward his private study.
After Kathy brought a scotch to his office Henderson unlocked a deep drawer in the bottom of his desk and took out a box of modestly priced cigars. They weren’t the best he could afford but the best available until another shipment came in from the mainland. He selected one then sliced the tip with a gold plated cutter his wife had given him for a birthday several years earlier and used a large marble table lighter to get it going. Enjoying the mix of the spirits and fragrant smoke Henderson relaxed in his comfortable padded chair then used the network terminal in his office to patch into the Central Control network and spent the next while brooding over the operational figures of processes for which he had no real understanding. Like many bosses he micro-managed everything, suspicious of everyone, seeing incompetence everywhere except with his own leadership efforts.