Infidel's Corner

by David Robert Morais

  On the other end, and away from the exit, people could be seen traversing a network of paths along the hillside. Their greenhouses grew food in winter through a practise of hydroponics. Other patches were dedicated to solar farming, of which Mezox had never seen before. It stretched for as far as the eye could see. The whole city was like a circular platter, designed for the collection of solar light.

  Further in, the scale of industry had Mezox question how materials of such quantitive extravagance were procured in less than two decades. He had envisioned a less well-developed realm.

  The road came to life with pedestrians. Their numbers and density grew nearer the centre. The driver parped his horn, and people responded by clearing a path ahead.

  And for the citizens themselves, Mezox was surprised to find so many beardless men. Clothing remained relatively simple but clean and fresh. He saw a man with a blue turban casually taking a stroll without fear of attack. No one could care less about his presence. And small children played without fainting due to a lack of oxygen. Nor did they sneeze and cough on mass with dishevelled expressions. The streets, devoid of excrement, rotten corpses and drunkards added to the sensation of having entered an alien world.

  The level of picturesque greenery didn’t stop at the border. Trees lined each road within the metropolis. A shower of pink petals fell from tree after cherry tree.

  Road surfaces were made from a thick layer of concrete. And painted white, they reflected solar radiation rather than absorb it during the long summer months. In fact, concrete was a common commodity everywhere he looked. Most houses were made from cinder blocks and wood rather than conventional clay bricks.

  Finally, they reached a detainment centre for processing. There, Joe requested that General Sallace positively identify him as an Hypatian citizen. And for Mezox, he could meet his uncle for the first time in over a decade.

  Meanwhile, statements were taken from all three of them and placed into a nearby cell. There, they could oversee the second but thorough inspection of personal belongings. As usual, the first to emerge from Mezox’s bag was the prototype. Inaya stood and approached the bars, watching the object like a hawk.

  The examiners found it suspicious in nature, but also bizarre. The lady flipped it over and over, only to glance at Mezox with the same look of confusion. It was left to one side. When Alex’s journals came tumbling out, Mezox pleaded, “Be careful. They’re of sentimental value.”

  Sometime later and Sallace showed up with a smile on his face. A guard directed him to the right cell. An emotionally joyous Sallace took one look at Mezox without uttering a word and confirmed, “Yes, that’s him. Let him out.”

  The door was promptly unlocked when Sallace first spoke to his nephew, offering a warm embrace. “My goodness, it’s a miracle. They said you were dead.”

  He invited Mezox for a game of catch-up in his office. Mezox feared the process of relocating his new friends later on.

  Inaya had to remain in detention a little longer. For that, Sallace asked Joe to stay with her until their return. Aware that he couldn’t win, Joe went from an ecstatic man to a sulking child, sealing himself within the cell. Inaya was content.

  Their journey began with Sallace requesting a full story of events. He understood for a while that his brother was dead, but the nature of Alex’s passing made it harder to bear.

  A bustling intersection forced Mezox to end his story. Sallace walked ahead and in contemplation.

  Mezox took in the scenery when he came to notice a checkpoint ahead. Over that stood a large but distant dome on top of a much larger building, blocked from view by other less-impressive constructions.

  Checkpoint guards permitted Sallace to pass without contestation. Mezox kept close to his uncle.

  Streets were oddly dormant for a city centre. It took three minutes for the central hall to come into full view. There, well-dressed citizens stood outside its steps in conversation. A few were leaving as others arrived. Women in places of power were the greatest of oddities to Mezox’s perceptions of normality. He didn’t agree nor disagree with such polar differences. Adaptation necessitated an open mind.

  Open ground with a fountain allowed one to absorb and appreciate central hall’s features. The front was convexed with Greek-like Doric columns that supported a row of statues. Upon closer inspection, these twenty-foot sculptures resembled critical historical figures, such as Isaac Newton and Madam Curie. The political figures were unknown to him.

  The sides possessed carvings related to Hypatia’s inception, depicting scenes from their exodus and the battle of Kielder forest.

  Its majesty didn’t end once inside. A lounge of immense size was a hive of activity. Parallel to the entrance was a glass mosaic wall, through which people dined in a flourishing garden of nature.

  Works of art about the lives of Hypatia’s founders and their stories adorned its walls. Sallace boasted of his larger-than-life picture one couldn’t miss on the stairwell. On it, he stood proud and tall with a foot on a dead militiaman laying facedown in a sea of bodies. He held a shotgun in one hand, pointing up, and an automatic prized from the corpse in the other but pointed down.

  The first floor housed an assortment of rooms and offices. The main corridor was circular with straight lanes leading centrally to other quarters.

  Sallace’s office was found three doors down from the stairs. He invited Mezox to take a seat before stating, “You must know that I begged your father to come years ago.”

  “Why didn’t he?”

  “Our mother was gravely ill at the time. When she passed away, your father figured he had a role that benefited him and us.”

  “He smuggled rare metals?”

  “That’s the one,” confirmed Sallace. “Those upstairs encouraged it, which stirred a lot of heated moments between myself and them.”

  “And they’re the bigwigs?”

  “Yes. It’s a bit of a meritocracy here with a massive emphasis on science, and that’s a great thing in some respects. It’s all just a bit too much for me sometimes.”

  “How about my father’s science?”

  Sallace giggled. “No difference. At ten, he began coming up with some whacky ideas… but then, he had a good heart. He hoped to make the world a better place.”

  “Speaking of which,” said Mezox as he retrieved the disk and plonked it on Sallace’s desk.

  “What am I looking at?”

  “One of my father’s crazy ideas.”

  Sallace felt an instant connection with the object given it was created by his brother.

  “It worked,” said Mezox. “And I want to continue his work.”

  “What does it do?”

  “Generate and utilise vast energy reserve in the production of Electrokinetic lift,” said Mezox, analysing Sallace’s reaction carefully.

  Sallace’s eyes raised back to Mezox. “You mean it flies?”

  “Truly, it can. Those marks you see is a result of it crashing. Hurdles remain.”

  “And if you’re successful?”

  “I guess it would change everything,” said Mezox with a quirky smile.

  Sallace rested back in his chair, unsure of what to think. “I can’t make decisions about what projects get the green light.”

  After another short moment of silence, he raised from the chair and suggested his nephew follow him. He informed Mezox, “Head of the STEM committee owes me a few favours. He can get your project off the ground… literally.”

  Back at the stairwell, a couple dozen people with tubes, papers and files came flooding down. Another circular corridor encompassed what was now a massive room. Double doors rich with carvings and border patterns stood dead ahead. Doors ajar, Sallace strolled through and located his target, for whom was in conversation with another. Sallace awaited patiently.

  Mezox intended to shadow but found himself captivated by the décor. The twenty-meter diameter room sat under the dome ceiling. Like the Sistine Chapel, it told a story through art –
not religion, but one celebrating life and the cosmos.

  Walls of wooden panels finished with a dark varnish were partially hidden by tapestries portraying the most brutal moments of battle.

  An octagonal arrangement of discontinuous tables filled the floor in layers. They were portioned in a way that mimicked the realm’s layout and not by accident.

  Two near-identical symbols sat behind the president’s chair. They shared the science atom logo but with an additional orbital. One possessed a capital ‘A’ that finished with a swirl. The other a silhouette of a woman’s head; Hypatia of Alexandria that Joe had mentioned.

  Sallace finished his discussions with the man who then approached Mezox. “Do you understand their meaning?”

  Mezox turned to see the middle-aged man with ‘Professor, D Jones’ inscribed on his name clip. “That one, yes,” he said pointing to Hypatia’s head.

  “The ‘A’ represents our city’s eighty percent of non-believers. New arrivals see it and, well, fundamentalist infiltrator wannabes go crackers, exposing themselves as potential sources of harm. However, people like yourself don’t recognise it for getting outlawed decades ago – even before the Church patriated powers from Westminster.”

  “And what happens to infiltrators?”

  “The risks are too great. They’re barred and expulsed back to England.”

  “Oh,” replied Mezox absorbing his surrounds.

  “I understand you’re seeking aid for some project?”

  Mezox’s attention returned to his quest. “Please forgive my appearance for I’ve not long arrived. I feel that my father’s work is too great of an opportunity to miss.”

  “I see. You must understand, however, that our resources are tight at this time and” -

  “Some of it procured by my father – who died doing so.”

  “Okay, but the president and I would have to discuss the project and weigh its chances of success. Do you have any work to show?”

  Mezox surrendered Alex’s first journal with mild discomfort. It felt as though he’d left a piece of himself behind, but he also departed with a sense of optimism.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Our home

  An offer to stay at Sallace’s home was refused on the count of his friends. Yet, before Mezox could return to them, Sallace had one final surprise; the library.

  It was comprised of five floors, each packed with row upon row of bookshelves. Much of the literature was forbidden by the Church. Few were lucky to escape the great book burnings at the turn of the twenty-second century.

  Another section housed science journals spanning almost two-hundred years. And within its archives were those of Mezox’s mother, whose temporary release was granted via Sallace’s powers of persuasion.

  Their return to the detention centre was met by Joe’s frustration. He believed their late arrival arose from a desire to exasperate him but relieved nonetheless.

  Sallace found Joe’s outbursts comical, but his laughter was disturbed by a guard’s desperate bid for advice.

  “That lady that came in today. She has no records or identification and doesn’t seem quite with it.”

  Sallace took one look at Joe, who could annoy any fundamentalist to the point of his murder, tapped the guard’s shoulder and said, “At least she’s not a theocrat.”

  “But she may not fit within the general population,” he contested.

  Sallace turned to his nephew and asked, “Can you vouch for Inaya’s suitability and temporary care within Hypatia?”

  Mezox glanced at Inaya and pitied her. She returned a gentle gaze when he saw a person. He considered that she may have experienced a traumatic episode and came for a new beginning. He couldn’t take that opportunity away from anyone deserving of it. Her overall personality didn’t reflect that of a dangerous individual. However, his acceptance would include a level of responsibility he hadn’t expected. Although she wasn’t trusted a hundred percent, he couldn’t decline.

  Inaya and Mezox were each issued a citizen’s card. These contained a non-toxic and water resistant adhesive which, when applied to the wrist, could remain indefinitely until removed via its exposure to alcohol. They acted like clocking, banking, age identifiers and licence cards rolled into one. Joe’s was merely returned. Mezox peeled at the corner of his identification and nothing but a stretch of skin came of it.

  Sallace arranged their temporary residence in the meantime. They were transported East of the city to a secluded quadrant for new arrivals. Mezox had to keep tabs on Inaya, and Joe was never issued a personal home due to his lack of time in Hypatia itself. Joe’s days of people smuggling had gone.

  Circular accommodation towers came into view. Each stood around fifty feet tall and forty feet wide. Dozens dotted the landscape.

  Their allocation process revealed a number of security personnel that regularly patrolled the area.

  To mitigate Mezox’s level of risk, Sallace prescribed a building whose residents were present prior to the colliery breakout. Better still, additional security was issued around his block.

  Sallace departed, leaving the three of them to settle. More people exited than entered the doorway. Its residents laughed and spoke of the night’s coming festivities. Someone within a group of revellers mentioned a ‘good tipple,’ enticing Mezox to follow. Others discussed heading to the gym or watching some live performance – all after a day of work.

  A set of stairs welcomed them. Joe led the way as they descended below ground level. It was a hive of activity as people prepared to leave or relax. A few took notice of the fresh arrivals and offered the three to participate in their group’s activities.

  The sleeping arrangements were stranger than expected. One slept within a cavity in the concrete wall known as a ‘pod.’ There were two by two rows of pods for each hexagonal face and floor. To reach an upper deck, one had to climb a ladder and land on a wooden platform whose structure pierced the walls. Less able-bodied arrivals occupied the ground level.

  Joe scampered off in search of a spare bed. Mezox explored the facilities. One existed for each gender. Toilets, showers, cubicles, soap, towels and razor blades were all provided. Inaya found the same plus sanitary pads in the ladies.

  Joe yelled for Mezox’s attention from the fourth floor. It took several attempts to grab his attention through the furore. “Come on up.”

  Mezox couldn’t help but feel dissuaded by the height. He grasped onto a splinter-inducing ladder and took gradual steps. Anxiety from his mild acrophobia was avoided by looking up or straight ahead.

  Inaya followed behind, surprising Mezox when she commanded, “Hurry up, little ape.”

  Concerned with how others perceived him, he strutted an act of confidence across the creaking balcony.

  Joe had found a spare set of pods. And just like old times, Joe wished to take the top unit. “These are great,” he claimed.

  Curious about their comfort factor, Mezox hopped in the one Joe had assigned him. The padding was sufficient and beyond expectation. The blanket was clean, thick, and not comprised of various fabrics stitched together.

  Across the way, an exhausted resident reached towards her feet and slid a door across the pod, cocooning herself for a quiet sleep. Mezox emulated her by reaching down until he found a vertical handle and pulled. As the white pane of wood clicked into place, a small light appeared above his head. The added silence revealed a ventilation system as air flowed to and from his pod.

  Each unclaimed pod had a unique identifier with a strap. It was seised and strapped to one’s ankle. No other could then claim it.

  Inaya found a bed two faces away. Each pod had a length of six feet, which was problematic given her height of seven feet.

  A few minutes later and a pleasant aroma caught their attention. Joe salivated with anticipation.

  Foldable chairs and tables were set on the ground floor. The remaining inhabitants flocked to take a seat.

  A mobile canteen unit was set. Tables could take t
heir turn in collecting dinner on a tray.

  Twenty minutes of intensive tummy rumbles later, and a small variety of foodstuffs were open to them.

  Joe and Mezox had a bit of everything; chicken, roasties, vegetables and gravy with a glass of apple juice. Inaya chose all the above except for animal products. Personal identifiers were scanned at the checkout.

  Mezox added a sprinkle of salt before stuffing his face. Inaya took the shaker and dispensed a heart attack’s worth of salt over her potatoes. Her unorthodox ways earned several looks of bewilderment from around their table. Joe offered her some juice but complained of its sweet taste.

  “The people that left earlier. Do they eat later?” wondered Mezox.

  Joe forced down a bolus of food before responding. “Most have a job and have the option to eat elsewhere.”

  “They have to pay?”

  “Well, yeah. They have a job.”

  Mezox looked around and pondered. “How does money work here?”

  Joe was more concerned about his food. “You’ll learn all about that before your citizen’s test.”

  Mezox gasped. “A test? I hate tests… Have you ever taken it?”

  “Yep.”

  Mezox eased a little. “I’ll get the answers from you.”

  Since the answers sought were detailed in nature, learning would become the inevitable result.

  Dinner had finally satiated their long-awaited yearning for a full stomach. A food coma ensued. Sleep came moments after returning to their respective pods. Torn muscles and worn tissues could begin their repair processes at full throttle. The night’s return of boisterous groups couldn’t disturb their slumber.

  One waked in the early hours and observed a clock above the stairs. Their activity stirred a neighbour and so forth. This chain reaction resulted in the day’s initiation without the need for alarm clocks.

  Breakfast came in the form of a cereal bar wrapped in an edible film made from egg protein, served on a bit of paper. Everyone ate on the go.