by Olivia Joy
‘I felt sad once.’ Xandria reflected after a few moments of quiet. ‘At least I think it was. It felt like the world was coming to an end.’
‘It does,’ said Lars softly. ‘It does.’
SIXTEEN
‘No!’
‘Unbelievable…’
‘You mean they…?’
‘Why didn’t they warn us?’
‘Where did they test it?’
‘An island somewhere…’
‘…only for the day.’
‘…test subjects from the Old World.’
‘Results to come later…’
‘But what does this mean?’
‘I think it’s marvelous,’ said Bathsheba Ermez, emerging from nowhere and managing to disperse the speculation faster than a particularly noxious gas.
* * *
What had they done?
Xandria would always remember the day she awoke to the news that New America had tested their Ophelium. Her dreamless sleep was rudely interrupted by the sound of Mrs. Olsen squealing in shock downstairs, and upon rapidly bolting into the chaos beneath her feet, she discovered the woman in a highly fraught state, standing in her dressing gown trembling in utter distress. Gabe was pacing the kitchen in a highly het up state, brandishing his stick and rambling furiously at the mirage bearing the news. Lars was merely seated at the table, his head held in his hands.
She watched in dismay at the reaction of the kind family who had housed her, realizing slowly that she may not be so welcome there anymore. As for the Ophelium however, she felt a twin swell of pride that her country had managed to move forward with their invention. Soon they could all vaporise their Suppressitors and this nasty, glitch-ridden chapter of history could be erased from living memory.
Mrs. Olsen spun round upon hearing Xandria’s footsteps.
‘Have you seen this? It’s beyond awful!’
Xandria squinted at the mirage, wishing it was as high quality as they could transmit in New America. There was an abundance of frantic voices in the background as the news was being relayed. Distracted, her eyes flickered back to the Olsens.
‘Bloody fools, bloody idiots. Let’s nuke ‘em, get their guts for garters...wait ‘til I get my hands on them. I’ll kill them!’ Gabe was wheezing unsteadily, rage oozing out of every follicle in his body.
Xandria distantly registered the room spinning, suddenly overcome with a queer sensation. It was sticky; it felt like shame. Her fingers stabbed her Suppressitor as if to push away this dirty emotion, but it only seemed to suffuse her body with more of the same.
Lars was wordless, but as he looked up at Xandria, all she could see in those eyes was anger and disgust. She was one of them, one of those who had destroyed the quiet, humble composure of their everyday life. Hell, this feeling was worse than anger, it seemed to multiply and feed off itself. It made her feel her feel as if she wanted to shed her skin and run away.
The emotion invaded her. But how could her country upset this nice family? It demanded of her, why would they do such a selfish and callous thing? The voice inside her head was wailing morosely, getting louder and louder until it filled her ears. Just look for once at what you’re doing to the rest of the world; your gain will be their loss. And how these poor people will pay!
She drew in several breaths of air, trying to drown out the newly arrived duo of both guilt and shame. They seemed to compliment each other well, for she was feeling truly hideous. Her Suppressitor had given out, perhaps also hanging its head in sorrow. Amid the din of her mind, she allowed herself to listen to the mirage, learning that overnight New America had stormed an island somewhere and blown Ophelium into the air for miles and miles around. It was not clear yet who the test subjects had been, but there was a suggestion that it had included some people from the Old World which was causing an international furore. Finally she allowed herself to just stare at the imagery. The sight of it she would never forget.
The landscape of the island was much the same, but something was not quite right. She hurriedly scanned the mirage until the drop in her stomach confirmed she knew what it was: the animals.
How they lay, splayed in sorrow, never to walk the Earth again. How beautiful they looked, so serene, a collage of whites and blacks and greys, every single colour under the sun, all come to rest shoulder to shoulder, comrade to comrade beneath the rising sun. No more could they be hurt, no more could they roam idle. A sea of resting carcasses as if bewitched by never-ending sleep. But what was worst was the silence; the hillsides mourned their faithful foragers, the rivers and the seas rippled no more.
* * *
‘You flaming pilchard! You pillock!’ Okadigbo screamed, hurling his knife and fork at the mirage.
Henry blinked, obviously unfazed by this now not unusual display.
‘Okadigbo, pull yourself together. You’re not a child. You knew this would happen all along.’
A subordinate scurried to retrieve the utensils, secretly wondering why the President allocated vast portions of his day to eating in the old fashioned way.
‘I knew but yet I didn’t!’ Okadigbo wailed, his cheeks going purple. ‘You philistine! What will I do now?’
‘Okadigbo,’ Henry said patiently, ‘you do as we agreed before. You will make a worldwide announcement and you will tell everybody that this is our stance and if they they don’t like it then they can suck it up.’
‘But I can’t!’ he whined, tears of frustration flying out of the corners of his puffy eyes. ‘They’re so angry, and I can’t hold it together, and, and…. the animals! You killed the animals - you animal killer!’
Henry stared at Okadigbo’s mirage from his office in mild concern. This would not do. The man was an impediment to everything. He watched as Okadigbo was almost wringing his hands in vain around his Suppressitor. A couple of subordinates had rushed to his aide but he was swatting them away with his beefy hands, still screaming, great globs of saliva spraying everywhere.
Henry made a motion with his hands to turn down the racket being transmitted from the other end so he could think properly.
Indeed, as had been expected, the Old World was officially up in arms. His little test had worked a treat. At the last minute Henry had entertained a cracking idea to use a mix of Old World and New World test subjects. Recently he had been thinking ahead to the future, to a time when the Old World might too be subject to the delights of Ophelium. It would be a peaceful world, one where Zachary DuPont and his cronies would leave him alone, for they too would be basking in wonderful inertia.
The New World test subjects were easy enough to come about. He had offered a little money and the knowledge that these people would be instrumental in instigating a magnificent new chapter of New American history. The propaganda was so successful that they had ended up turning away disappointed citizens in their swarms and droves.
Procuring Old World citizens was a slightly more laborious task. Henry had toyed with the idea of just using the newly arrived immigrants to the country, fresh off the plane. But Reginald had pointed out to him that these people may, in their eagerness to please, overplay the true effects of the gas. No, it would be better to use completely natural Old World citizens.
Now, this part he was slightly hesitant to admit. He knew it was mostly wrong. Because of this they had tried to keep it a secret but those pesky Old World people had not managed to keep their mouths shut. This was precisely why they could not be trusted with anything. They would surely rat out their very selves if only they could.
In the middle of the night, the designated aircrafts travelling to the island had made a detour to another nearby islet wherein a couple of hundred native people were swiftly rounded up and taken by force, or rather - taken against their will - as DuPont had already roared at Henry. Fury was not the word to describe his condition. The man needed to relax a little.
The people had spent the night cohabiting serenely with their New World counterparts, under the severely potent effects of Ophelium
, before eventually succumbing to a peaceful slumber. If they had been panicked and absolutely petrified when they were seized by New America the night before, by the next morning they showed little sign of their earlier struggle. If anything, the Ophelium seemed to have an even greater efficacy on this lot than New America’s own folk. This was pleasing news indeed.
Once the experiment was satisfactorily concluded, the people were gathered up again like draughts counters at the end of a long game and ferried back to their home island. In the excitement that their experiment had worked, and also in their increased haste to vacate the area before the alarm would be raised, Henry had to sheepishly admit that the Old World people were merely dropped off haphazardly on their home beach, any old way any old how.
Waking up from their drugged state and finding themselves blustered across the beach like carelessly strewn litter, it did not take long to compare gruelling notes and for these wretched people to crawl unsteadily inland to recount their horror to the rest of the world. And that was when Henry had received the first of a barrage of livid phone calls.
He snapped out of his reverie and resumed watching Okadigbo, not for the first time questioning his mental capacity. He turned the sound back up. Okadigbo was now waggling his sausage-like fingers at what Henry assumed was his mirage.
‘….was supposed to be my little cash-cow, not this humongous problem…’ he was ranting. ‘I refuse to face them…and the people you stole! You nit-wits, you flumps! Never poke the sleeping lion! Now you will see what monster you have created….just you wait!’
Henry abruptly ended the current call, scrolling down a list on his mirage until he found the contact he was looking for. He dialed and waited momentarily.
‘Yes, is that the hospital? I’m going to need some assistance…’
SEVENTEEN
As Xandria was about to enter the kitchen the next morning, an intuition she had never possessed before told her to stop. She instinctively listened outside the closed door.
‘…why do I have to?’ Lars was saying to his mother, ‘she’s quite frankly abhorrent. Everything she stands for.’
‘Darling…’ Mrs. Olsen’s voice could be heard soothing her son, ‘now what is the Christian thing to do?’
‘Of course, but I don’t see why we have to. It’s a very different situation.’
‘Lars, we must have compassion. She’s gone through a lot, losing her whole family like that. And so sudden too…’
‘But she doesn’t feel a thing!’ Lars said, ‘only intermittently that object she wears around her neck will give out and there’ll be a flicker of life up there. What is that thing anyway? She looks ridiculous. Everywhere she goes it’s tap, tap tap…’
‘Shhh son, she will be awake soon…’
Xandria stared at the door, feeling a boiling feeling in the pit of her stomach. Was it shock? Resentment? Disappointment? She was not sure. She touched her Suppressitor, causing it to bounce back a dose of hatred; hatred for both her compulsion to use this damn device, and hatred for the man on the other side of the door mocking her.
After a couple of minutes had passed and her Suppressitor had returned to normal, she entered the kitchen.
‘It will be my last day today,’ she announced without any feeling whatsoever.
Lars looked at his mother but said nothing.
‘Oh my goodness Xandria, are you sure?’ Mrs. Olsen looked at her with eyes full of concern.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, ‘I think I have overstayed my welcome.’ She shot Lars a plain look. He looked down.
‘Nonsense, my dear. You can stay as long as you like here. There’s still so much for you to see, the bird islands…’
‘Thank you Mrs. Olsen. But I need to get back now,’ Xandria cut in. Her Suppressitor may have been working at the current time but that did not stop Xandria from remembering the bubbling emotions she had felt just minutes earlier.
‘As you wish,’ Mrs. Olsen said, ‘but it will be a shame for you to go so soon.’
Gabe came hurrying into the kitchen.
‘Quick, get a mirage up! There’s a speech from the other world…’
Lars quickly summoned an image. The family gathered around in rapt attention. Ever since the island travesty it was as if the whole world were teetering on the edge of their seats, barely breathing, fully expecting the next day to bring further appalling new revelations.
Xandria gasped as the mirage blew into a larger than life version of Henry Excelsior. She clutched at her chair to steady herself.
‘Are you okay?’ Lars asked, feeling a conscious need to be nicer to her. He had a suspicion that she had heard his harsh words about her and seeing her ashen face, regretted them instantly.
‘I know him…’ she stuttered, still shocked. ‘He’s my…’ She stopped short, remembering the truth. Oh, but she missed him. Did he miss her too?
‘Well whoever he is, he’s rather handsome.’ Mrs. Olsen commented, attempting to artificially raise the mood of the household. Since the island revelations, the family had been fraught. By papering over the all-too-obvious cracks, she could try to kid herself that the world wasn’t about to end.
Xandria looked perplexed. Appearance and attraction were completely irrelevant in New America. What did it even mean to be handsome, she wondered, sneaking a peek at Lars trying to assess this quality. But it was no use. She felt nothing; her Suppressitor was back in action.
‘Good morning to our glorious nation of New America, and greetings also to the Old World.’ Henry said, staring directly out of the mirage.
Gabe shuddered. ‘Creep.’
‘I am speaking to you all today with a dual purpose. Firstly, to address the issue of our new Ophelium, which I understand the Old World is particularly unsettled about. And secondly, to make a surprise announcement.
‘Now, our new Ophelium gas is to be a new cornerstone of our modern society. In every single thorough and conclusive test we have performed, it has truly excelled itself. And of this we are most proud.
‘Therefore, I would like to inform you that as soon as our turbines are ready and complete, we will be turning on the gas ready to supply our people.’
‘No, no, no… they can’t!’ breathed Mrs. Olsen, unable to tear her eyes away from this unfolding disaster.
A background cheer erupted from the mirage, except it did not contain any cheer; it was more like a humdrum shout of acknowledgement.
‘Our message on this matter to the Old World is as follows,’ Henry continued. ‘Tough.’
Even Xandria gasped.
‘What do they mean?’ Mrs. Olsen asked, her eyes fearful.
Nobody said anything; Lars looked afraid, his lip quivering in a mixture of anger and anxiety.
‘You guys can just kill me before then,’ Gabe growled. ‘There’s no way I’m breathing a molecule of that wretched gas.’
But there was no time to fully digest this bombshell, for Henry had started speaking again.
‘Yes, people. I mean that. Tough. We feel that as a forward and modern nation, you will be only too happy to accept our wafts of gas as a gift. It will benefit you greatly and I daresay it may even act as a head start for you to begin innovating intelligently like ourselves.
‘The way we see it, you have no alternative. Perhaps if you were more efficient like New America, you would now have equal clout in stopping us. But that is not so.
‘Now we have warned you, we hope it will not be too long before your anger is calmed by our draughts of emotional suppression. It will be a wonderful day for mankind.
‘And now moving onto my second announcement: For reasons unforeseen, our current President Olivier Okadigbo has resigned his position with immediate effect. In these difficult times, we will be unable to hold an election until after the release of Ophelium. Until then however, I would like to introduce our stand-in, President Bathsheba Ermez.’
Xandria thought her Supressitor would detonate into smithereens with the shock.
Henry stood aside in the mirage, and a woman with short dark hair and a hooked nose ducked into the picture. Her dark eyes darted beadily for a second until she appeared calmer.
‘Greetings, world,’ she said smoothly. ‘I am pleased to take up this position until we can hold a democratic process.’
The woman took to power like New America had taken to suppression, a voice whispered in Xandria’s head. She shuddered, as if to shake it out of her cranial vault.
‘I intend to start by disclosing some news to the whole world - disconcerting news which I recently discovered - that under normal circumstances would not be correct protocol to share with the Old World.
‘Some months ago, Zebediah Voss, inventor of the Suppressitor, went missing. His complete disappearance singlehandedly caused the biggest public threat in New American history. Today, world, I can reveal what happened to him.’
Xandria’s mouth dropped open. She could not feel her legs.
‘Fellow citizens and Old World, this man is gone. This man has been Signed Off; this man is dead.’
The shock was molten; it was as if a plug had been pulled out from somewhere. Signed off?
‘Yes.’ Bathsheba Ermez said calmly. ‘Signed Off. Vapourised… Gone.’
‘This brings me to the crux of my message. I recently learned who the evil perpetrator was, and I warn you now, they will pay.’ She spat the vowels out as if even the mention of this scoundrel was dirty.
‘For reasons which will emerge, this message has been broadcast because this is the only way we can get through to them, hiding out like a filthy coward in the Old World.’
Too right, Xandria thought, wincing under the pressure of the now tumultuous cocktail of emotions. They better pay. Go seek them out, dig them up from wherever they’re hiding. They’ve caused me this pain, this absolute hell, the b-
‘Alfred Reinhardt. That’s the name of the New American traitor. He did this to us.’
Xandria jolted as if she had been shot. What the -?
‘Kill him!’