Mortal Lock
Page 21
I used to pop Zoners when I first went out, but now I don’t need them anymore.
All I need is the marks.
Rajah stops, satisfies himself that he’s safe, sits with his back against the wall, and lights a cigarette, carefully cupping the tip.
LOUD VOICE
There’s one of them!
Rajah acts almost bored. He moves with the air of a man who has done the same acts many times: gets up slowly, stubs out his smoke, and pockets the butt. He walks a few feet, steps into a crevice, and peers out, using a periscope-like device with a light-illuminator.
The onrushing group is closer than he first thought. Rajah takes a deep breath, gets ready to run for the deep tunnels. He looks over his shoulder and sees …
A crew of bums, screaming for his blood.
FADE OUT ON RAJAH BEING TORN APART LIKE HUMAN TISSUE PAPER
FADE BACK TO:
LINCOLN SU
(still at the podium)
The Book of Crews teaches that the desire to kill becomes death itself. From this came our First Law.
FADE OUT
FADE IN ON:
Shot of another section of wall … same color, style—as if only one tagger is at work*
*Every message from the Book Boys is in the exact same color, and, while sprayed as graffiti would be, it is always in the exact same handwriting, too.
THE SAGES SEE THROUGH THE AGES
THE TERROR WAS NO ERROR
FIRST CAME THE AGENCIES
FADE OUT
FADE IN ON:
INT: Same “gathering hall” as in the opening. we see a rotund black man stepping away from the podium as an androgynous individual takes his place and faces the audience. The Androgynous Individual has short brown hair, long white-painted nails, and is wearing a lilac-colored, loose-fitting garment.
ANDROGYNOUS INDIVIDUAL
(self-assured voice, gives no clue to gender)
This is the Tale of the Charter. It is from the Book of Records. Through study of this Book, we learn the value of maintaining truth.
FADE OUT as the Androgynous Individual begins to speak
FADE IN
INT: A man in his early thirties is sitting on the floor of a small cave laboriously hand-carved into the wall of one of the Tunnels. He is whispering to himself, occasionally pausing to write feverishly, using a long black stick to make entries in an old leather book. This is the Charter.
CHARTER
(speaking to himself)
I know this is all so complicated, but I have to make a record. My blood demands: Leave a record. Not on the wall, like the Book Boys. Write it all down, but bury it away. Then, maybe, someday …
CHARTER
(aloud, as he writes)
Before the Terror, the Rulers kept changing. Different ones, in different places. But the real rulers were always the same—they were called Agencies. The Health Agency ruled Health; the War Agency ruled Wars. There was an Agency for everything people did.
We don’t have wars anymore. We have Warlocks, but the name doesn’t mean what it sounds like: In Underground, the Warlocks are potioners. The best ones can make stuff that lets you see Outside. Not with your eyes, in your head.
FADE AWAY TO:
The Charter is entering the Trade Tunnel. His head is down, and he moves slowly. He walks past stall after stall until he comes to one marked
POTIONS.
A crone looks up as the Charter enters. Her eyes are empty sockets.
CRONE
(extending her fingertips like sensory organs)
You want something to stop you from being sad?
CHARTER
For what? Those never last.
CRONE
(indifferently)
They last forever, as long as you keeping taking them.
CHARTER
Zoners do that, too. But after a while, there’s nothing left of you.
CRONE
What do you want, then?
CHARTER
I want to see Outside.
CRONE
A vision potion.
CHARTER
(determined)
Yes.
CRONE
Outside is too big to see in a vision. You have to say what part of it you want to see.
CHARTER
I want to see one of the Agencies. The Agencies that ruled there. I want to see the Agency that protected the children.
The Crone nods; she doesn’t need to hear any more.
CRONE
One hundred credits. Open credits, not Tunnel credits.
The Charter hands over his plastic card. The Crone places it into the slot of a Transaction Box. Then she beckons him forward. The Charter places his palm over the slot, intones solemnly.
CHARTER
One hundred open credits.
The box hums for a second, then makes a pinging sound, indicating the Charter’s card was good for that amount, and that it has been deducted.
CRONE
(decanting droplets from various colored bottles into a small vial)
You must be in a very safe place before you take this. While you are having the vision, only your body will still be here. You will not be able to defend yourself. Do you understand?
FADE OUT
FADE IN
INT: Charter’s mini-cave
The Charter blocks the opening, sits with his back to the far wall, and takes out a vial of swirl-colored liquid. He tilts back his head, and pours the contents into his mouth. His face goes slack, his eyes slip closed.
The Camera sees:
A huge blob, throbbing with energy. Every spasm emits another blob, much smaller. The smaller blobs subsume whatever they encounter, and grow with each success. Those that do not find something to subsume grow smaller … until they vanish.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
Sense of time having passed.
The Charter is walking along the Conveyor Platform, his affect clearly indicating he is searching. He spots a teenager wearing a pale yellow jumpsuit, standing immobile. The Charter steps close to him.
CHARTER
I had a Vision. I need to know what it means.
TEENAGER
Only a Sage can tell you that.
CHARTER
(pointing at the yellow jumpsuit)
You’re a Messenger, aren’t you? So you could tell me how to—
MESSENGER
(warningly)
No one Sage knows everything. You have to find the right one.
CHARTER
(intensely)
But if I tell you the Vision, you can find the Sage who can answer my question?
MESSENGER
(smugly)
Sure. Only a Messenger can do that. The Book Boys don’t answer questions; they just say things. True things, sure. But unless what they say is the answer you’re looking for, it won’t help you.
CHARTER
I know.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
The Charter and the Messenger are sitting across from one another, a board game of some kind between them, like one of the outdoor chess tables in Washington Square Park. They move pieces, but it is clear they are merely using this as a prop to speak. We have to come in close to hear the conversation.
MESSENGER
None of the Sages on Border knew the whole answer. But one of them told me where I could find what you wanted. In the Uncharted Zone.
CHARTER
(wary)
Yeah?
MESSENGER
I heard you can buy and sell anything—anything—in the Uncharted Zone. They call it the Black Market, because there’s no overhead lights like they have here … just little ones.
CHARTER
(not impressed, striking at the Messenger’s vanity)
Everybody hears things. Even the crazies.
MESSENGER
What I heard was that, before the Terror, Agencies were very, very big. And they gave birth.
There would be like a super Agency, and it would have many, many littler Agencies coming from it.
CHARTER
(staring at the Messenger)
You hear anything else?
MESSENGER
(vanity restored, smug)
Oh, now you’re interested? Okay. I heard it was a huge Agency that gave birth to the Agency that protected the children. That one was a lot smaller.
CHARTER
Did it …?
MESSENGER
(moving a piece on the board, not looking up)
I told you everything. I took the Message, and I brought back what I got from the Sage, didn’t I?
CHARTER
(nodding, but not satisfied)
Yeah. And I paid you, too, didn’t I? But I still don’t have the answer.
MESSENGER
(just short of condescending)
You asked if there ever was an Agency that protected the children. That’s a Truth Question; three hundred credits. You paid me; I did my job. I told you what the Sage said. But the Sage also said that asking if the Agency worked isn’t a Truth Question; it’s a Judgment Question. One thousand credits. And every Judgment Question has to be asked three times—you need a different Sage each time you ask. And the only ones who can do Judgment Questions are in the Uncharted Zone. And Messengers never go there.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
INT: Charter’s mini-cave
CHARTER
(eyes closed, smoking, V/O)
I know this is taking a long time. Making a record is hard. I have to explain everything. I found a way to get things Outside. Not people, but things. That’s why I need to make this record. For Outside.
If there is anyone there. Nobody knows. Not for sure.
I want my record to go Outside, but I don’t want to go there myself. That’s why nobody can ever find my record until I’m ready to send it.
I thought I could find the answers I need, but I’ll never have three thousand credits in my life.
All I have is my record.
That’s how I found a way to get things Outside. Doing what I was trained to do. Making records.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
The same Charter, only much younger. He is moving through narrow, twisting tunnels with calm assurance. Every once in a while, he stops and makes a note on a pad strapped to his thigh.
CHARTER
(V/O)
When I was a kid, they trained me to be a Charter. I could move through the tunnels without a map or markers or a sonar-pack. I had this … gift for finding my way; that’s why the Rulers picked me. They tested me when I was still a baby. Then they took me away.
The tunnels outside the Charted Zone never have any light. The Rulers said we have to chart all the tunnels. Once a tunnel has been charted, the Rulers give it a name, so it can have a purpose. Once the tunnel has a name, it’s in the Charted Zone. Some of them have always been here, like the Medical Tunnels. Some are pretty new, like the Sanitation Tunnels. That’s where the Conveyor takes people who have died.
A Charter makes a record. He gives the record to the Rulers, so they can add new tunnels to the Charted Zone.
The Rulers said I was special, because I could always find my way, and make a path. But I never found my own path until one time when I heard a sound echoing through the deep tunnels. It called to me. I’d heard children cry before. Plenty of times. But this was different: it was the thin, bitter sadness of a child seeing his own future.
I first thought the sound was some kind of prayer. But who could they be praying to in Underground?
The child never knew I was listening.
Image of the Charter sliding through darkness toward the sound of a child sobbing. A man is standing, a knotted cord of some kind in his hand, lashing down.
THE MAN WITH THE WHIP
You like that, you little—?
The Charter looms out of the shadows, a black-bladed knife in his hand.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
CHARTER
(V/O)
That first time, I thought I could stop the crying by taking the heart that was closed. If I took the heart, the crying would stop.
Image of the Conveyor pulling to a stop. SANITATION is marked on its front. It stops, robotic arms lift the body of the man the Charter had stabbed. It moves silently away.
CHARTER
(V/O)
But I could never be sure. Not certain-sure.
IMAGE:
A group of people all wearing white jumpsuits enter the area where the Charter killed the man with the whip. They grab the crying child and carry him to a conveyor. A train marked HydroFarm stops. The creatures in the white jumpsuits toss the child inside.
IMAGE:
The Charter, standing invisibly in a tunnel, using an infrared scope to scan the HydroFarm.
CHARTER
(V/O)
At first, I couldn’t see the baby. The HydroFarm is too big, and he’d be too young to work, anyway. Then I spotted him. One of the Enforcers was holding him. But he was still crying. I don’t know if he ever stopped.
CUT TO:
The Charter standing outside a room, listening to a child cry. Inside, a woman is screaming a torrent of verbal abuse. The Charter settles in to wait.
BACK IN TO:
Same exact spot. The Charter ghosts his way into the room. When he comes back out, he is carrying a female child.
CUT TO:
Interior of the Charter’s cave. He is cuddling the child. They are both asleep.
CUT TO:
Shot of the Charter talking to the child. She is animated; no longer crying.
CUT TO:
The Charter is back outside the room where he took the child. This time; his knife is unsheathed.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
Distinct sense that time has passed
A tunnel full of children. The older ones are caring for the younger ones. Some are grave, some are cheerful. None are frightened.
A different Charter approaches (this tells us that the tunnel itself is in the Uncharted Zone). The new Charter is still some distance away when a squeaking sound fills the tunnel. Mutated rats, the size of dogs.
CHARTER
(V/O)
Charters are supposed to stay out until they find a new tunnel. Sometimes, they’re gone for fifty cycles, even more. But I always take them early, just past the perimeter. If they don’t come back, the Rulers are never surprised: Zone Rats are dangerous, but not nearly as dangerous as the Traxyls who feed on them.
Charters are supposed to always leave a trail behind them. That way, if they don’t come back, the next Charter can find the body … and pick up where the last one left off. That’s why I always make sure to change their markings after I kill them.
CUT TO:
Children feeding a mixed pack of vicious-looking dogs. They treat the dogs like puppies, and the dogs frolic like puppies, too.
A rat-squeak is heard. The ears on several of the dogs shoot up. The entire pack charges out of the tunnel, as purposeful as a guided missile.
CHARTER
(V/O)
The Rulers don’t have this tunnel on any of their charts. One of the little girls I took called it the Tunnel of Love. Now we all call it that.
When the first children get old enough, I will teach them to do what I do. Some will be Charters, but Charters for us, not the Rulers. Some will be Enforcers, but Enforcers for us, not the Rulers.
There will always be children who belong with us.
They will all have jobs. Not jobs the Rulers make children do, jobs they want to do. Having a job makes you feel good. Even the dogs know this.
If we live, someday there will be many of us. But if the Rulers find us before we are ready, they will make everything we build disappear.
That’s why I have to make this record.
ANDROGYNOUS INDIVIDUAL
(speaking from the podium)
By this we learn that the only true records are tested accounts. Truth may be written. Truth may be spoken. Just as lies may be written or spoken. The only test for truth is not what is written, or what is said. The test is what has been done.
FADE TO BLACK
FADE IN:
INT: The Gathering Hall
A couple stands at the podium; both Native American in appearance. The man is wearing black-lensed goggles; the woman is facially scarred, but with clear eyes. Blue eyes.
COUPLE AT PODIUM
(woman speaking, man nodding as she does)
Shall it be Axel, then?
They step aside as an extremely muscular man strides purposefully to the podium. His head is shaven, nose crooked, face a roadmap of battle scars. When we close in on his hands gripping the podium, we see the first two knuckles of each hand are raised and are a bluish color.
AXEL
(facing the audience as if ready for battle)
The Book of Obligations takes many, many spans to learn. Not all those who enter the school remain. Those who do are tested. I stand here now with the pride of one who has been granted the honor of carrying the burden of truth.
FADE OUT as Axel begins to speak
FADE IN ON VOICE (speaker not visible: voice of an older teen, speaking in that half-knowledgeable, half-superior air of an adolescent speaking to a younger boy, just on the cusp of puberty)
NARRATOR
You have to know how things work if you want to survive here. There’s the Rules; and there’s the Truth. You need to know both. And how to tell them apart.
Everybody writes on the walls, but only the Book Boys have this special blue paint. Whatever they write doesn’t always stay up on the walls, but their messages can’t really be removed, because everybody in Underground knows: If it’s written in Blue, it must be True.
The Guardians protect the Book Boys. Anyone can write on the walls, but there’s two things you can’t ever do: you can’t mess up what the Book Boys write, and you can’t sign their tag to anything you write yourself.