by Andrew Gates
Tracey tried to act calmer and nodded his head in agreement. He understood. Baltir was already at a dangerous stage in his relationship with the government. About time he finally acts like it.
“Okay,” he agreed, still trying to calm down, “we tell nobody.”
Suddenly the live feed of the surface cut out and the monitor began to flash red. Baltir quickly jumped into action, tapping away at icons. Once again, Tracey was clueless to what was happening.
“Fuck,” Baltir added as he worked with the computer.
“Now what?” Tracey asked.
“I think I’ve lost the feed.”
“Why? How did you lose it? You just had it!”
Baltir franticly pressed icons on the monitor like a kid overacting in a student play. Tracey had seen Baltir in stressful situations before but he had never seen him behave like this.
“I think someone found me,” he eventually said.
“Fuck, what do you mean?”
Baltir just continued pressing icons, not responding. After a few moments of silence, Tracey repeated his question.
“What do you mean, Baltir?”
His friend turned around in his seat. In a matter of seconds, his eyes were as wide as a yellow zone hallway.
“It means they’ve found us. They know I’m in the system,” he answered. His words were heavy.
“So what do we do?” Tracey asked, worried.
Baltir stood up and pushed his chair under the odd colored wall-lined table faster than Tracey even believed possible.
“It means we run.”
Tracey followed Baltir down the hallway, pushing past pedestrians and commuters on their power scooters. Even after seeing the horrific fate of his own brother’s sub, Tracey felt more afraid now than he could ever remember. He felt his heart pounding, heating up like the engine of his loader. He wondered if the pounding heart came from the fear or from the running.
Baltir seemed to be in much better shape, which was surprising for someone who spent his life sitting in a small room full of monitors. He easily whizzed through groups of people, rounded corners and sprinted during long straight passages in the yellow transition zones.
How could I have been so fucking stupid? Tracey thought as he ran down the halls. He did not know where he was going. He simply followed Baltir, struggling to keep up at times. I knew Baltir was in deep shit. I fucking knew it. I shouldn’t have made him do it. Fuck!
Baltir quickly cut through one of the green zones. Tracey followed. It was harder to keep up in the dense shops and eateries. As they ran further in, people crowded around on all sides and Baltir disappeared from view. Tracey looked up, trying to get his bearings. To his left was a crowded apparel store and to his right, a technology store with a few customers looking around. Baltir must’ve hidden inside the apparel store. It’s more crowded.
Tracey went to the left, inserting himself into the crowd. He glanced over both his shoulders to make sure nobody was following him. So far he had been completely undetected. But the Navy had bases all over the station. There were bound to be a few whitecoats close by. Tracey read the name of the store as he entered: Long Shopping. For now, this was where he would hide.
“Welcome to Long Shopping,” greeted a dark-skinned woman wearing a tight red pleather dress, which seemed more like something found a strip club than in a store like this. Not that the sexy dress did anything to enhance her unpleasant body anyway.
“Thanks,” Tracey said as he passed by. He decided to walk straight in. Don’t look nervous or confused. Just walk right in. Act like you belong, Tracey told himself. He searched for signs for the men’s section and moved towards that area. He continued to look around as he walked, trying to be subtle yet vigilant. There was still no sign of Baltir, but luckily no sign of any whitecoats either.
So many people walked by, each in their own little world. Some were looking at clothes, some were aimlessly moving about and many stared at their personal pods, transfixed like a kid to their toy.
Despite all of his running and hiding, Tracey was surprised that nobody had caught him yet. After all, he had just viewed some of the most valuable secrets in existence. This was nothing like a simple case of AWOL. The coats should have this place on fucking lockdown. But where are they?
Tracey found the men’s section and walked up to a rack full of pants. He calmly picked up a hangar and inspected the first pair he found. It was much too large for him, but that did not matter. He continued to inspect it anyway, hoping nobody would notice. After a few moments, he quickly glanced over his shoulder again, hoping not to see any rifles aimed his way.
“What are you looking for?” a mysterious man asked. Tracey jolted in shock and slid the hangar back onto the rack faster than a snap of the finger. The voice had come from the opposite side of the pants rack. Tracey did not even notice anyone was there. Shit, he thought. They found me.
“Uh… nothing,” Tracey replied, hoping he did not sound nervous, though it was hard for him to tell.
A short teenage boy in a red shirt and glasses stepped out from behind the rack. He had dark hair, black like his least favorite place in the world, narrow eyes like someone of Asian descent and an annoyingly huge smile that could make the happiest person in the world want to punch him in the fucking face.
Oh, thank the Lord Beyond Both Seas.
“Just browsing?” the teenager asked through his fucking smile.
Tracey nodded.
“Yeah, just looking around. Trying to find some stuff for my uncle,” he lied.
The teenager seemed excited by this answer. Fuck I should’ve just said, “yes” and been done with it.
“Oh? What does he like? I saw you looking at these pants here. These are made from real nylon and they have deep pocket space-”
“You know, I think I’ll just look on my own if that’s okay, but thank you,” he interrupted.
The kid smiled some more despite being cut-off, nodded his head and walked away with a quick, “Yessir, sure thing!”
Tracey took a moment to calm down. He continued to act composed as he walked through the store. Hopefully nobody notices how nervous I just got. Even a suspicious customer could fuck up everything.
Still no sign of Baltir, he thought as he searched around. Still no sign of the Navy either. Maybe Baltir didn’t even come in this store.
That’s when a thought occurred to him. What if the Navy isn’t even looking for me? Tracey, after all, was not the one who accessed the file. It was Baltir. There was nothing linking Tracey to the crime. He was simply in the room when it happened.
Tracey did another quick search of the area. That explains why there’s not a whitecoat in sight. Now it all made sense. Baltir must have run in a different direction and brought any potential pursuers with him.
I’m not the target. He is.
There was no time to save Baltir. If he was pursued by the whitecoats, he was likely captured by now and maybe even killed. Unfortunately, if he was captured there was no telling whether or not Baltir would give up Tracey’s name. As much as it pained him to admit, Tracey knew that if their positions were switched, he would most likely give in. He hoped Baltir was a stronger man. He’s always been a stronger man than me.
But Tracey had a good reason to give up a name. Unlike Baltir, Tracey had something to lose, or more appropriately, someone to lose. As far as he was concerned, Ophelia was the greatest thing in the world. Losing her was the last thing Tracey wanted. It was the ultimate bargaining chip, more powerful than a threat to his life. Baltir doesn’t have that, an ultimate bargaining chip. Maybe he won’t give me up. Tracey could only hope.
It had been about an hour since Tracey hid in the Long Shopping store. After waiting a few more moments to make sure he had truly not being followed, Tracey decided to make his way towards Harrison Middle School. If he was going to be taken, he needed to make sure Ophelia was safe. When he entered the grey zone, he felt his body shaking. He was visibly nervous at this poi
nt, but for good reason. All public schools had security contracted by the government. As far as Tracey was concerned, their eyes were everywhere.
As he walked down the halls, it occurred to him that he had absolutely no idea where he was going. It was the afternoon at this point and the halls were completely empty. The students and teachers were all in class. Tracey tried to remember where he went last time he visited, but it was hard for him to get his bearings when the entire school looked exactly the same. This goddamn color conformity trogshit is really fucking annoying, he realized.
He peered into windows, franticly searching for any sign of his daughter. But room after room, he could not find her.
Suddenly he saw a person walking through the halls. Tracey sped up to catch up to her. The woman was fat and old and wearing some sort of bizarre orange robes. Her hair was braided in dreadlocks and she carried a large bag on her left shoulder full of what appeared to be plastic beads or something.
“Excuse me,” Tracey said walking towards her.
The woman turned with a big grin on her face.
“Hello,” she said, “can I help you?”
“Yes,” Tracey replied as he continued walking. “I… I’m a bit lost.” He stopped right in front of her as she held out her right hand for shaking. Tracey accepted it while attempting to return her smile. Fuck, he realized, my hands are sweating like shit.
“Jacella Sanyaolu,” the lady greeted, apparently unfazed by Tracey’s sweaty palms. “It’s nice to meet you. Are you a parent?”
“Uh… yes I am. Tracey Saljov. Ophelia is my daughter. I was wondering if I could find her. I need to pick her up early from school today,” he explained, hoping he did not appear too nervous. He realized he was talking very quickly.
“Oh, sure! It’s nice to meet you, Tracey. You know, I don’t know the students’ schedules but I can find out for you. Principal Hanson has every students’ schedule so let me ask him. It’ll just take a second.” This woman had such a positive tone to everything she said. It was as if everything in the world were happy and fun all the time.
“Uh… thanks. That would be very helpful, yes. Do you want me to come with you?” he asked. Tracey did not want to stay in the same place for a very long time. Secretly he hoped she’d say yes.
“Oh no, that’s fine. It’s easy to find out. Shouldn’t take long. This isn’t about the field trip, is it?” the woman asked.
Tracey did not know what she meant by that.
“What field trip? Is there a field trip I should know about?”
The woman smiled again.
“Oh, you should have gotten a permission form sent to you. There’s a field trip scheduled to the mining sector soon, but between you and me, there’s talk of it being changed,” she explained. The very mention of a secret seemed to make her giddy with excitement.
Tracey suddenly remembered the mining sector trip. He and Ophelia talked about the trip a while ago but he had forgotten all about it until now. With all the excitement in the last few days, it was easy for him to forget things like this.
“Oh yes, that. Yes, I didn’t realize that’s what you are talking about. Yeah, Ophelia is all ready to go. I signed that form and submitted it a few weeks ago. It says it went through,” Tracey explained, still trying to appear calm. “Is… is there talk of canceling it?” he asked, at this point just making small talk to seem like nothing was wrong.
The woman tilted her head as if to suggest you got me!
“Well… perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it. You may be aware of some controversies that have come to our school lately. Some people in the history department have decided changing the trip might help with some of these issues,” she answered vaguely in the most serious tone she had taken during the entire conversation, “and between you and me, I think it’s a grand idea.”
Tracey was genuinely curious what she meant by this, but realized that it was probably best he not learn any more secrets, even if this woman was strangely eager to give them up for some reason.
“I see,” he replied. “Well as long as it works out for the kids. That’s what’s best.”
The woman nodded in excitement. She seemed to really like his response.
“So… anyway, how about I go talk to Mr. Hanson now? You said you were Ophelia’s dad, right?”
Tracey nodded.
“Oh, she’s such a lovely girl. You’re a lucky father. I’ll be right back. You just wait here.” And with that, she walked away, leaving Tracey all alone in the sea of grey.
What an odd lady, he thought. In just two days he had encountered such incredibly different people at this school. He remembered the rude woman who seemed like she wanted nothing more than to provoke his opposition to the new curriculum. Now there was this woman, a nice, cheery lady, too excited about secrets to keep her mouth shut.
Tracey looked around again and then glanced down at his hands. They were shaking. The woman must have seen how nervous he looked. I guess she just didn’t care. Regardless, Tracey knew it would only put him at more risk if he continued acting this way. He needed to calm down.
Alright, he told himself, calm down. He closed his eyes and held his breath. He tried to think about the surface, the bright light and the white smoke. A glimpse of peace. He could see the rolling mound of earth pressed up against the water. The surface. And in that dirt, clear as a shining bulb, he could see the footprints. Damien, it’s got to be Damien. He is alive.
Tracey smiled and opened his eyes. He needed to see the footage again. He remembered the footage he had taken with his pod and reached for it in his pocket. But as he pressed his hand against his pocket, he noticed that the pod was missing.
Oh shit.
And just like that, Tracey remembered where he left it. During the chaos when he ran out so quickly, there was no time to collect his things.
Suddenly his heart rate picked up again, this time even harder than before.
“Mr. Saljov!” Tracey heard from behind him.
This was not the voice of the woman from earlier. In fact, this did not sound like the voice of a teacher at all. It was the voice of a man, very direct and commanding. Just like the fucking Navy. Tracey moved slowly. As he turned, he came face to face with three whitecoats holding assault rifles.
Fuck. I’ve lost.
All three of them were tall, muscular men, some of the biggest people Tracey had ever seen. Clearly Parnel or whoever the fuck was organizing his arrest wanted to send the best men they had. Tracey simply placed his hands above his head and stood still. There was no sense resisting, not here. Not so close to Ophelia.
“We’d like for you to come with us, Mr. Saljov. If we do this quickly and don’t cause a scene, we’ll be out before the students even know we’re here,” the man in the middle ordered. “Your daughter won’t even know we came today.”
So they know why I’m here.
“I’ll do it,” Tracey explained. “I’ll come with you. I agree. No need to shoot. I won’t try anything. Not here.”
The men approached him. The one in the middle placed handcuffs around his wrists.
“What’s going to happen to her?” Tracey asked as they started walking him away.
“She’ll be fine,” the man with the handcuffs responded. “No need to worry.”
That answer did not satisfy him at all. Ophelia was not going to be safe. This was the fucking government. Nothing they could do would keep her safe.
“Where are you taking me?” Tracey asked.
“Where do you think?” the man responded. “We’re taking you to jail.”
He felt a tear travel down his cheek. He lost everything in just one day. He lost his freedom, he probably lost his job, maybe even his home and now he lost his daughter. At this point there was only one thing that gave Tracey any sense of hope.
He closed his eyes and saw the footprints in the sand.
My brother is alive, he thought, Damien is out there.
IRIS SLID HER TRIMMED FINGERN
AILS across the glowing screen of her personal pod. Rows of text danced before her eyes as she slid one page and then the next. Never taking her eyes away from the screen, she put the pod down on the table and reached for the bowl of warm macaroni and cheese with her other hand. Thank Percy Spencer for the microwave, she thought as she lifted the fork up to her mouth and blew on the warm noodles. She wondered if Spencer realized back then how much his invention would change the world. He probably had no idea.
As much as Iris liked to learn, the words of Harold Grünewald’s Philosophy in the Post-Descent Age were beginning to bore her. Post-Descent writing never quite had the same level of depth and intellect that Iris came to expect from surface era texts. As far as Iris was concerned, all the real thinkers existed long before the bombs fell.
She decided to power off her pod and put it aside for the evening. She only started reading it to distract herself anyway. With all the stress generated from the upcoming field trip and parental controversy, she needed to find something to take her mind off things. She had only made the proposition a day ago, but Iris thought she would have made more progress on moving the field trip by now. So far the process had been slow, too slow.
Iris checked her watch and was surprised to learn how early it was. Only 20:00 and I’ve run out of things to keep me occupied tonight. She rubbed her face with one hand as she finished the last bite of macaroni. Just as she was about to stand, her pod suddenly lit up. Incoming video call said the message on screen.
Iris waved her hand in front of the screen and read the contact. To her dismay, it was her mother. Twice in such a short time, Iris thought. She must really want my attention. Her hand hovered over the pod, debating whether to accept or decline. For a moment she considered answering the call, but ultimately, she pulled her hand away.
“Let it go,” she said aloud, opting to use the voice feature. Iris had too much going on to worry about her mother. She only got more worked up whenever they talked. This was not the time.
She stood up from her chair, pushed it in and brought her bowl over to the sink to wash it. As the water poured over the dish, grimy with sticky yellow sauce, the call timed out and the pod prompted her mother to leave a voice message.