Finley and Lois walked side by side, passing through the masses as inconspicuously as they possibly could, keeping their eyes to the ground as they felt the stares beginning to burn into them. Using his peripheral vision, Finley followed Lois’ path of movement, snaking his way through the hive of bodies as they veered towards the safety of Joe’s cafe. The route was incredibly familiar, and it wasn’t long before Finley could see the entrance to the coffee shop, easily made recognisable by the large tea-cup shaped sign that swung high above the emerald green door, the day’s special offers flashing on its surface in gold.
Over the first few days of the holidays, Will, Lois and Emily had become well acquainted with the café’s elderly owner, Joe, introducing him to Finley on the one occasion he had agreed to join them. After bearing witness to the way in which the “Famous Four” were hounded every time they went out in public, Joe had taken pity on them, forcibly removing anyone who bothered them from his premises. As a result, the place had become a source of protection to Finley and the others, providing an oasis of calm in the sea of madness they had been flung into.
Finley had almost reached the refuge of the café when he realised in a fit of panic that he had lost Lois, the beacon of her golden hair disappearing into the crowd. He stood still, turning his head to and fro and he searched with desperation for any sign of her, the faces of the throng of people surrounding him blurring into a fusion of indiscernible colours.
In his state of distress, he began calling Lois’ name, his voice cracked with panic. He spun wildly on the spot in an attempt to locate her, his strange behaviour capturing the attention of one of the patrolling robot Guards. The frightening droid proceeded to make its way steadily towards Finley, its sizeable metallic joints creaking noisily as it moved.
“State your name and Floor of residence,” it demanded in its monotonous drone, the moment it had reached Finley’s proximity.
“I, I-,” Finley stammered, his breathing growing shallow in his chest as a gathering of bystanders began to appear around them.
“State your name and Floor of residence,” the robot repeated, drawing up to its full height, the large weapon in its hands levelling with Finley’s eye line.
“Finley Campbell,” he spluttered. “I live on Floor Seven-I mean Floor Two.”
There was a pause as the robot processed this information, its black eyes momentarily becoming a shade of blue as it performed a search on its internal database.
“Records do not indicate the existence of ‘Finley Campbell’ from Floor Two,” it informed him, its voice now colder than ice. “Records indicate that ‘Mr. Finley Robert Campbell’ resides on Floor Seven and is a person of interest.”
“Person of interest?” Finley repeated with horror. “What does that mean?”
“You are a person of interest,” the robot repeated. “You will come with me where you will receive further questioning from the authorities.”
“No, you’ve got this all wrong,” Finley shook his head, snatching his arm away from the robot’s clutches. “My name is Finley Campbell. I live on Floor Two. My father is Thomas Campbell. He’s the Governor of Maintenance. Our status was raised, we don’t live on Floor Seven anymore. You don’t need to take me anywhere.”
“Attempts to resist me will result in your immediate arrest,” the robot warned him. “You are a person of interest. All persons of interest must be taken for immediate questioning, as stated in the third act of the De Havilland Initiative.”
“You’re not listening to me,” Finley replied with frustration, his cheeks flushing with urgency. “I am not a person of interest. Until I became one of the ‘Famous Four’, I’d never done anything interesting in my whole life. I’m just an ordinary boy. There’s nothing special about me.”
He paused, raising his voice so that his audience could hear him clearly.
“Do you all understand me? I’m a normal, thirteen-year-old boy. I’m not a hero and I’m not a criminal. I never wanted any of this. All I want is to be left alone.”
“Your statement is irrelevant,” the robot responded, trapping Finley’s arm painfully in the grip of its strong hands. Before he could protest, the robot began dragging him across the lobby floor, using its other arm as a shield to part the masses around them. Finley’s body went limp with defeat as he accepted that any resistance was futile, allowing himself to be hauled in the direction of the lifts, where he would be transported to the Head of Security’s office.
“Stop!” Lois called from somewhere behind him. “Let him go!”
Finley craned his neck to see her pushing her way towards them, elbowing irritated passengers out of her way as she cleared a path through them, her eyes flashing with formidable fury. The robot halted, swinging its body round on screeching hinges as it searched for the source of disruption.
“State your name and floor of residence,” the robot demanded, scrutinising Lois through its analytical vision.
“Lois Sommers, Floor One,” Lois replied with force, folding her arms as her identity registered in its mechanical mind.
“You are Lois Sommers, daughter of Captain Alfred Sommers,” the robot clarified.
“That’s right,” Lois said through gritted teeth. “I am the Captain’s daughter, and on my father’s authority I order you to release this boy.”
The robot paused, considering the command. Finley was certain he could hear the cogs in its dense, titanium head turning, as it evaluated its next decision.
“My system indicates that your order overrides my current course of action,” the robot notified them, releasing Finley’s arm so suddenly that he stumbled back several paces.
“Are you alright?” Lois asked him, descending upon him the moment the robot had relinquished its grasp. Finley shuddered as he watched it reboot, moving off to continue with its patrolling duties as though the altercation had never happened.
“I’m fine,” Finley answered, rubbing the red mark that had appeared on his arm, “but I don’t understand what happened. Why did it keep saying I was a ‘person of interest?”
“I don’t know,” Lois frowned. “I-Tech produced the robots to help with the De Havilland Initiative, but the Head of Security keeps telling my father that they’re malfunctioning. I’ve heard them arguing about it on their Personal Devices. Apparently, several innocent people have been dragged in for questioning, without any evidence to support their guilt.”
“It didn’t even know that I live on Floor Two now,” Finley frowned. “Shouldn’t those things have some sort of update system. I don’t think it would have tried to arrest me if it knew I was from a higher floor.”
“Probably not,” Lois sighed, “but it doesn’t matter. My dad won’t hear any criticism about any of I-Tech’s new products. He keeps talking about how much easier everything is for him, especially now that the robot Guards are basically doing his job for him.”
“I hope the News Station doesn’t get wind of this,” Finley frowned. “I’m not sure if I could take much more publicity from them.”
“We better get back to Joe’s,” Lois sighed, gesturing at the numerous people still standing in clusters around them. “Everyone’s looking at us.”
She took Finley’s arm and began to steer him away, glowering at their audience as she went. They had almost reached the sanctuary of Joe’s cafe when a high-pitched wail stopped them in their tracks. Covering their ears, they searched for the source of the noise, which seemed to be coming from the giant, wafer-thin television that hung in the centre of the lobby.
The screen crackled and hissed as the static it was displaying flickered into a blurry image, which slowly came into focus. An audible gasp rang around the lobby as the face of Jarvis Holt, the former CEO of I-Tech and murder victim of Admiral Allance, appeared in strikingly large dimensions before the passengers, who had frozen with horror.
“Holt’s not dead!” Finley exclaimed with shock, believing for one, glorious moment that everything he had suffered had been no more
than a terrible nightmare.
“It can’t be him,” Lois replied, her voice shaking. “Allance killed him. We all saw it!”
“Good evening, citizens of the Mayfly,” a distorted voice called out from inside the screen. Jarvis’ mouth remained motionless as the words were spoken, his face set into an eerie grin.
“Is that a mask?” Finley asked Lois with disgust. “Who would do that?”
“We’re about to find out,” Lois replied darkly.
“Do not be afraid. Our purpose tonight is not to frighten you. We are the Society of the Enlightened, and we are here to tell you that things are not as they seem,” the man behind the mask continued. “For many years now, we have accepted injustice and repression, living under a system that seeks to divide us. We have grown blind to the evil that it truly represents. Those living on the Lower Floors of our precious ship, I urge you to think. Why must you endure such impoverished conditions, having only a restricted access to the amenities and resources that the rest of us enjoy frivolously? We are all human beings. We are all journeying to the same destination. None of us are more “valuable” or “useful” than the other. We are all living. We are not machines to be categorised and ruled. Those who are leading us are unfit to fulfil their duties. The presence of the Vacuous here on the Mayfly, remained unnoticed for thirteen years, putting us all in grave danger. An innocent man lost his life due to this inexcusable negligence. We at the Society encourage you to take a stand with us, showing the powers that be that we will no longer accept the barbaric treatment of our fellow passengers. The Society of the Enlightened thrives only in the light of knowledge. You have all been living in darkness.”
At these words, the floodlights illuminating the lobby switched off in unison, plunging everything into the pitch black, save for the weak light emitting from the television screen.
“Open your eyes passengers,” the voice concluded. “Our day is coming.”
The screen switched off, leaving the lobby in darkness. Finley could hardly see his hand in front of his face as he was swallowed up by the density of the impenetrable gloom. All around him, he heard people beginning to run, screaming in disorientation as thundering footsteps echoed across the floor in a deafening stampede. Finley felt Lois grab his hand, pulling him backwards just in time to avoid being flattened by the masses as they charged in his direction. Clinging tightly to one another, Finley and Lois staggered blindly into the window of a nearby shop, pressing their backs against the cool glass as they waited for the pandemonium to cease. Finley’s chest heaved, his heart pounding in his ears as he felt himself begin to sweat, the panic he had managed to keep at bay taking over his senses.
Just when he thought he was going to collapse, the lights came back on, dazzling everyone in the lobby and halting the chaos that had ensued. Slowly, the passengers began to regain themselves, coming to a standstill as they looked about in a daze, confusion clouding their expressions as they realised that all was as it should be. Finley stumbled forward on shaking legs, crashing into a small, metal table outside the shop they had used for shelter and leaning on it for support. As he looked up, his eyes were drawn to a figure, who was standing partially hidden in the shadow of an overhanging sign on the opposite side of the lobby. The tall man was positioned in a military stance, his arms folded behind him as he stared forward, his shoulders held perfectly square by the rigidness of his back. Finley took in the strange figure’s appearance, repulsed by the sight of his grey hair, silvery eyebrows and midnight-blue suit, which had been flawlessly pressed to remove every crease and crinkle.
“Allance?” he choked with incredulity, unable to believe what he was seeing. The man turned his head and walked away, disappearing into a small alley between two shops and vanishing from view. Finley spluttered, his head spinning as he fell heavily to the floor, the world disappearing around him as everything went black.
He had woken up in the Medic Ward with Lois by his side and a kindly looking nurse fussing around his Healing Pod, tapping instructions onto the screen built into its side. She informed him that he had fainted and ordered him a day of rest and recovery, refusing his repeated requests to go home as his embarrassment began to set in. His shame soon turned to irritation, when he discovered that Lois, in her panicked state, had called Emily on her Personal Device, asking for her and Will to come and find them immediately. His refusal to speak to Lois after her confession caused her to wander off, muttering an excuse about going to find something to drink and giving Finley the opportunity to stew in his humiliation.
He had been studying the ceiling for what felt like an eternity, memorising the patterns in the square tiles to such an extent that he could still see them in sharp resemblance whenever he closed his eyes. He lay quietly for several minutes, shutting reality out before he would be forced to face the inevitable fuss he knew would be made of the situation.
Opening his eyes again, he turned his gaze to the left and watched as the I-Healer, that was still stationed beside him, read health statistics from his data, its white, metal face fixed eternally into an expression of reassurance. A noise in his proximity caused him to turn his attention to the other side of his Healing Pod, where he was greeted by the sight of Will, Emily and Lois, a shared look of concern spread across all of their faces.
“Are you alright, Fin?” Will said after a moment, after the silence had become uncomfortable.
“Absolutely fantastic, thanks, Will. Better than I’ve ever been,” Finley replied with sarcasm, irked by the stupidity of the question.
“What happened out there?” Emily asked him. “We heard about the broadcast. The Society of Light or whatever they’re called. “
“The Society of the Enlightened,” Finley corrected her.
“Yes, that,” Emily continued. “It sounds terrifying. We passed through the lobby on our way here, and everyone was still scared out of their minds. The robot Guards were struggling to restore order.”
“No one else fainted though, did they?” Finley grimaced, cringing as he heard himself speak the words.
“It’s understandable, Finley,” Lois soothed him. “Nobody knew what was happening. It would have been easy for anyone to get into a state-especially when all the lights went out.”
“It wasn’t the broadcast that made me faint,” Finley snapped. “I saw something.”
“What did you see?” Will asked, after Finley failed to elaborate.
“Allance,” he replied. “I saw Allance.”
There was a pause as Emily, Will and Lois exchanged looks of bewilderment.
“Admiral Allance?” Emily said slowly. “He’s dead Finley…”
“I know that,” Finley answered curtly. “I was there, remember? I know it wasn’t really him. I must be losing my mind.”
“Look, we all had a rough time at the end of last year,” Will re-assured him, moving to sit on an available stall beside his Healing Pod. “It’s going to take a long time for us to come to terms with it all.”
“None of you panic every time you leave your apartment though, do you?” Finley shot back, unable to contain himself. “I know none of us like the stares or the attention, but I’m the only one who feels like they physically can’t breathe whenever they’re reminded of what happened.”
“You’re the one who got kidnapped by Allance,” Will pointed out. “He nearly killed you, and Josie Jones put your life in danger as well. You had two near-death experiences in one year. No one can cope with that without it having some kind of effect on them. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”
Finley didn’t answer, struck by an overwhelming resentment for Will and his unwavering stance of positivity. His words of encouragement had barely scratched the surface of Finley’s struggles, re-enforcing his enduring conviction that nobody understood what he was going through.
Emily, Lois and Will stayed by Finley’s side all day, making overenthusiastic small talk in their desperate attempt to cling to normality until eventually they were asked to l
eave by the nurse, who came in to inform them that visiting time was over. Finley knew that his mother and father would soon be finishing work and would be on their way to collect him. His relief at being discharged and allowed to retreat to the safety of his home was somewhat tainted by the knowledge of how much stress the incident would have caused his parents, and he wished for the hundredth time that day that he could simply bury everything that had happened and never think about it again.
Trying to distract himself, he looked around the Medic Ward at the other patients, all sealed inside their individual Healing Pods as if they were part of some strange alien race, living out their days inside the safety of a glass cocoon. He soothed himself with the realisation that many of them were in far worse condition than he was, with most of them more than likely being treated for ailments much more serious than an embarrassing fainting episode. He was in the middle of trying to discern what particular malady the patient in the Pod next to his was suffering from, when he saw Mr. McGowan, his Combat and Weaponry teacher, making his way towards the exit of the Ward.
“Mr. McGowan?” he called out, pressing a button on the control pad that caused his Pod to tilt upright, moving him into a more dignified sitting position.
“Finley?” Mr. McGowan said with shock. He was nursing a bandage around his arm, which was clutched tightly to his chest.
“Are you alright, Sir?” Finley asked him. “What happened to your arm?”
“Oh, this? It’s nothing really. I got caught up in the chaos in the lobby,” Mr. McGowan replied, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. “I fell over in the dark and somebody trampled me. My arm’s broken, but it should heal in a few weeks.”
He took a step closer to Finley, examining his pale complexion and bleary, red eyes.
“What about you?” he frowned. “You look a little bit worse for wear.”
“I fainted,” Finley admitted. “They’ve been keeping me here as a precaution while they ran some tests. Everything’s come back clear so far.”
The Secret Society Page 3