Tim slapped his friend on the back.
Beaver could only roll his eyes in dislike.
Genetically Modified Nutrition Protocol or GMNP, one of the many failed mass experiments the Academy has tried. The product designed to be a high protein meat substitute, however still available in abundance; was nicknamed gimp by the Academy members. This is because, it was found that with frequent ingestion it causes paralysis and other irreversible defects. The Select members of the Academy like Tim and Beaver, along with the Elites; were never subjected to such testing and research. Mainly, these kinds of experiments were used upon the Non-Academy or Humbles as they were officially called. Humbles only exist because they are graciously allowed to live, and Humbles only exist in Stowelowly. Most believe, the only reason that they are tolerated and kept alive with all of their pestilent glory, is because if a pandemic of disease happened, they would become the Academy’s guinea pigs--more so than they already are.
“Bobble has pies … Tasty pies! You want a pie? Only a GP! How about it … huh?” Bobble said with his grimy hand, roughly two morrits from Timmy’s face. He was only able to do so, because the transport stopped to let off some of the Nobles. Bobble was a bum. There was no other word to sum him up. Both, the English and British translation of the double entendre that was Bobble, were accurate.
“No … You bum!” Tim shouted, as he pushed his hand away.
The black grime from Bobble’s clothes seemingly transported through the air and landed on Tim’s sleeve.
“See what you’ve done! It’s a good thing for you that this is Neo Leather, or else I would bop you a good one!” he huffed.
Bobble un-phased by Tim’s threat, turned his attention towards Beaver.
“Please kind sir, buy a tasty pie … only 1 GP! Please … Have a heart!” the vagrant pleaded, with his wares stuck close to Beaver’s face.
Beaver closed his greatly agitated eyes for a few ticts. His contemplated plan in that moment was; he was going to break Bobble’s arm and then make him drown in his own gimp meat pie. Luckily for Bobble, the transport started moving again before Beaver could open his eyes and strike like an extinct Cobra.
“See you tomorrow, you bum!” Tim once again shouted, as they pulled away.
“Humbles make me vomit!” Beaver sarcastically interjected.
“You could have been one of them too!” Tim said, as he hit him in the arm.
The duo began laughing as the downtrodden Bobble faded in the distance.
Soon … as the transport continued down its path; the blighted venue of run-down buildings and disease, morphed into white-washed picket fences and two-story Victorian styled mansions. This was New Dresden, the utopian hamlet reserved for Elites only. It was much like the sprawling golf courses and towering million dollar houses with their tennis courts and five car garages of the former time. However, the game of golf and the smell of expensive wine was an extinct pleasure among Elites. Today, in this caste system of discriminatory totalitarianism, the true fashionable accessory that everyone craved and lusted for was Cupric Malatitanium.
Cupric Malatitanium, (or just Cumal as it is most commonly known), is a highly coveted compounded gemstone. It is created with two elements known as Cuprite and Malachite, rarely found at the Cuprous Oxide mine of Tom Bossley. Once harvested, these two elements are micro-finely crushed and combined with Titanium Nitride in a superheated mold. Then, they are slowly and gradually cooled, to the point of eventually being super-cooled with liquid Nitrogen. If it survives the process without shatter, what is left behind is a steely-tinted, red gemstone that is harder than Sapphire. And, when combined with a battery-laden, bio-interfaced isofitting; it can be used across large distances for many biometric-controlled properties, such as robotic telemetry and seemingly autonomous production.
In other words, without the technical jargon; (regardless of the lives lost or the labor involved) the Elites want more than anything, a super stone that is used to create biometrically interfaced rings. Which upon wearing, uses their own bodies’ electric current and brain activity to control any electronic or robotic power they wish at will. Imagine … controlling an entire robotic army that does your bidding alone without a single bit of programming, having the power to cause android workers to create anything seemingly with a wave of your hand, or even the power to compel the mechanized to ignore their programming, and kill anyone you wish with a single thought.
However, very few Elites have this would-be power, faceted to their hands. And still fewer, can use it somewhat effectively. But, just the prospect of power is enough to cause thousands to die in the mines each and every span. Mainly these magic rings are used for parlour tricks such as to open and close restricted doors, control robotic servants to dole out more synthetic liquor than they are programmed at Elitist parties, and cause lacquer-bots to spray out obscenities on public pathways for a few cheap laughs.
All except for Mercurial … Beaver thought.
Mercurial is a gifted member of the Upper Academy, which Beaver briefly met at a party a couple of spans ago. To explain, every span the Upper Academy has a day of charity that they call Benevolence. It is at this time that the Select Academy members such as Beaver and Tim are allowed to enter New Dresden and mingle with the Elites. It was only two spans ago in which Beaver saw the demonstration of sheer power that these stones had. He witnessed a select Academy member who was in full-celebratory mode, accidentally spill some synth-liquor on Mercurial’s cloak. He, being infuriated left the party. The Select member followed after him, trying to apologize. Beaver, also followed after him as well, hoping to rough him up to make a good impression on Mercurial, because he was the new Academy overlord at Perpetua.
What he witnessed next made a ghastly imprinting on Beaver’s memory.
The man trying to apologize was suddenly attacked by one of the servant victual robots, crushing his skull and killing him instantly. Apart from the wretched gore he witnessed as he turned the corner into the area; Beaver still remembers the look of sheer euphoria on Mercurial’s face, as he gazed at the Cumal ring upon his hand. It was a look of pure sadistic evil.
“Did you see that!? Did you see what I did!?” Mercurial said with a child-like mirth looking at Beaver, as if he had won a mid-ancient spelling bee or got an A+ on a test.
Beaver could only smile with an equal pleasure in what was done, logically timid for his own life.
“The worthless sot couldn’t hold his liquor—HA!” Mercurial commented, making light of the situation.
“Would you clean this up for me?”—he glibly said, as he slapped Beaver on the shoulder.
Upon which Beaver interjected in an enthusiastic tone--“Gladly!”
As Mercurial walked away back to the party, tears began to stream down Beaver’s face. This was the first time that Beaver ever felt the emotion of fear. In that moment, he thought about all of those who had equally apologized to him--before he crippled them. He now knew this dreadful feeling is was what they all felt. He vowed to himself in that moment, that if possible; he would lessen his doling of punishment for the Perpetua Corporation.
“What was that Beve? Oh … you’re thinking about him again.” Tim said, rolling his eyes in the process.
“You weren’t there! You didn’t see what I saw!” Beaver said in agitation, quickly wiping his eyes.
“Ok! Ok … for the hundredth time, I believe you. But, there is no sense pining and sorrowing about it, because there is nothing that you or any of us can do! We are only rats in a maze … that is all.” Tim quietly interjected with an older brother-like authority.
Beaver just sighed, knowing what he had said was the truth.
Tim and Beaver were only two people out of an unknown number willing to fight. No amount of sabotage or terrorism carried out by two people could ever stop this evil machine, manufacturing lies and deceit in the name of a false god called Great Master. Beaver knew would take a massive army, with hundreds of thousands, if not millions; armed t
o the hilt; to even begin to break the back of the ruling Academy. Tim and Beaver were literally prisoners to the state, without a single hope or glimmer of change.
“I don’t have to like it, though!” Beaver said, trying to get in the last word.
With the sounding of an ear piercing tone, Beaver had succeeded in just that. It was finally the last stop … their stop.
The end of their daily journey always ceased in Westbrook. It was so named after an ancient stream on the outskirts of the prefecture. This is where all of the Select party members live, along with a few Elites who liked the quaint accommodations rather than the Country Club life. Westbrook would seem to many in the former time, like an utopian city. A place with no crime, no violence, and no shouts of anger in the night; where everyone is taken care of and all have enough food and shelter. However, this clean mecca of self-servitude was a very terrible place to live. Unlike the Elites, every aspect of the lives of the Select party members was regimented. It was planned out, like a sadistic itinerary formed by an evil mid-ancient cruise director.
You could not live as you pleased. You are to eat when they told you to. You are to sleep and wake up at their command. Your activities are pre-planned according to your physical skills and body type. You are to go to work, regardless of sickness. You are to go to sleep, regardless if you were tired or not. If you were brave or stupid enough to become defiant; mechanized androids would suddenly appear to make you comply or cripple you. Far beyond its façade of clean living and affluence, Westbrook was truly the new plantation of the Omni-digital age. Electronic man had enslaved natural man, with only the Elites standing as sadistic taskmasters and slave brokers; pulling the strings behind the curtain.
By the grace of the Academy powers, there were days that were not so regimented. The Academy called them decisions. These were days in which free will was tolerated. They were instituted to curb man’s natural ambition and primal need to have freedom. This was their insurance policy to keep uprisings and revolts among the population at bay. As long as the ruling Academy did not push the limits, they would continue to seem benevolent and the people would follow like blind sheep to be slaughtered.
On these times of contemplation, which happened about every 8 Earth days (by measure of the former time); the mechanical sentries and bouncers as they were known, were put into a state of suspended animation. (Unless … you were dumb enough to attack them.) On this day, you could decide whether to wake up or not, go into work or not (no one would be there anyway), eat what you wanted to eat, and even travel about. However, you were still forbidden to truly think for yourself. All forms of rebellion and free-thought against the Academy were considered treason. Any form of religion or religious action that was not toward the Great Master was forbidden as treason as well.
To further explain, in the beginnings of the Great Conflict, the Academy scientists and free-thinkers knew the two greatest factors that would kill any effort or hope of dominancy was the threat of religion and patriotism. They devised a plan to use extreme patriotism for the Academy, to destroy any threat of religious piety or holy war.
First, it started with the standard campaigning of doubt and contemplation. The Academy propagandists, flooded the populous with well-planned progscreen advertisements, catchy wave holographia music by the latest of popular glamstars, and electron billboards on the side of each and every trackstreet, hoverway, and groundtube. They had loud, bold colors and were filled iconic lines like:
“Did you know the Bible is hatespeech?”
“Did you know all religion is evil?”
And, the ever-popular, “Did you know all Christians are narrow-minded and bigoted?”
The music that blared upon every Lev-tower had infectious titles like:
“Do it for the Academy”
“Corrupt Christ”
And, the rock anthem, “Did you know? … Holy must go!”
Each one went on to relay, in one way or another; whether it was a paragraph, sentence, or in music form, why all people needed to get rid of their religion for the impending conflict and Academy’s sake. It was so prevalent and overused that it is still mockingly called by the Humbles and the Select party members, (who are alive and can vaguely remember) the “Did you knows.”
After these did you knows swept through millions of hearts and minds, they began to open sadistic lines of perverted dialog. Then seemingly overnight, they morphed into the whys and why not’s. More catchy titles of official Academy propaganda were used. And like before, they accented the need for party compliance, and for religious abandonment.
Titles were used like:
“Why do you let those Christians live your life?”
“Who’s the boss of your life?”
“Do you really need a god?”
And, the tour-de-force en masse “If god is real, why are we living in hell?”
After this set of mental conditioning was strategically bombarded upon the people, the Great Conflict was now in full swing. With the constant barrage of wicked chemistry, hyper weapons decimating entire city blocks, and the pangs of hunger looming; most in desperation, mentally conceded to every anti-religious idea set forth by the propagandists. And with their compliance, they also pledged their allegiance to the Great Master and the Academy powers. Then, like the Hitler youth and SS officers of the mid-ancient times, they rounded-up every nuance of religious paraphernalia, forsook their former ideals and morality, and burned each and every one of them. The ones, who were not willing to conform, were herded and collected like the concentration camps of old. Their children were stolen to be brainwashed, and the adults were murdered with mid-ancient weapons; most at the Arcade, and in the Arena.
This time of widespread surrender (and Abstersion for the non-conformists) was later compiled by the Elitist powers into a high decision day, known as Great Ember day. It is ceremonially remembered every span, and is officially cited to be filled with celebration for the eradication of any knowledge of God. (Other than the G.M.) However today, only a small handful of Elites, Selects, and Humbles were left that even knew why the Academy held this day in high regard. Tim and Beaver were ones that knew, but only because their parents went underground with several other families, before the Abstersion.
In their days of hiding, they lived in very meager surroundings. They were hidden from the view of the hordes of flying quadra drones and autonomous, roving sentries known as sleuths. The reason they were finally discovered was the same as every other hidden, non-conformist. Hunger and the depletion of supplies had brought them one by one to the surface, only to be captured and tortured into revealing their hidden location. Some would crack quickly, hoping to save their lives. However, others had to be broken to the point they literally prayed for death. In either instance, once their enigma was told they would be murdered, and with them those who stood waiting and praying for their safe return.
Upon discovery, Tim and Beaver’s parents were given a treatment like no other before their time. Instead of their blood being spilled with mid-ancient weapons, they were among the first to be infused and indisolved. To explain, the process of infusion was a relatively new thing, invented well after the Abstersion. The Academy Elites demanded something less messy after the mass killings, which did not involve the shedding of blood or the use of antiquated weapons. Therefore, the Perpetua Corporation was commissioned for such a task. After a span, they invented with much secrecy the Dunner.
A Death stunner, aptly named a Dunner; is a Hand held device that shoots a 2.4 cc poison laced burr-catch up to 1000 quadyards with its telemetry ABDIO-laser guided mechanism. (Active biometric digital input/output) Once it is attached to the target, it infuses its contents into their bloodstream with its microscopic tentacles, even through the thickest of Neo leather. This grave cocktail consists of super-heated and liquefied gases Hexofluroacetone, with a mixture of Flourine-19 and Hydriodic Acid. This conglomeration is so volatile and dangerous to carbon based organisms, that only platinum cl
added, mechanized androids called Synthborgs are able to create, collect, and package this ammunition of the macabre. Once a victim was infused, The Dunner then would beep with delight as soon as its task of death was successfully carried out. Some would be indisolved instantly, some slowly over a day, some a week--the world record was One month Six days and Five hours (by measure of the former time). But death was always inevitable, and with it was total annihilation.
There would be no trace of your existence. No burial or no bones to be found. The very building blocks of human matter would be accelerated to the point that they would become vapour. This was much like the burning of sugar accelerates into caramel, and then into a blackened lump of charred nothingness, and finally a puff of CO2 gas. And because of this fact, whether you were indisolved immediately or not, the Academy treated you from that moment on like you were already dead. This period known as good silence by the Academy powers, was the same as the mid-ancient Death Row inmates that were given a last meal and perhaps an extinct tobacco cigarette before they were led to die.
Tim and Beaver’s parents were among the first guinea pigs to be tested at the hand of the Dunner. The Acad-troops were alerted to their location, and slowly broke through the bulk-headed iron hatch of the bunker with lodi-explosives. When they entered, they immediately separated the children from the adults, ripping them from the arms of their screaming parents. After the adults were herded into the middle of the bunker, white-coated Academy scientists also entered through the mangled iron hatch. With their various equipment in tow, they were present to simply observe and collect data from their new weapon. With the go-ahead signal from the scientists, several troops forcibly made the screaming youths watch what was to happen next.
In horror, Beaver watched his mother scream her last, and then fold like an obsolescent accordion; only to disappear as two ticts passed. One by one, they went down their makeshift line infusing each adult in the bunker. Unlike Tim’s parents and the rest of non-conformists that were present; Beaver’s father was not indisolved immediately. He lasted about a quarter of a proc, and kept shouting a phrase incessantly until his last. In that moment, this grouping of forbidden words was etched forever in Beaver’s mind.
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