by Rob Mclean
*
Afterwards, the two women lay in each other’s embrace. By the light of the bedside candles, Kiane’s fingernail traced curious tracks over Ling’s goose-bumped skin, making erratic paths through the fine sheen of sweat that glistened on her naked body.
Kiane muzzled into Ling’s neck and placed soft kisses on her shoulder. “I wish I could stay here all night…” her lips nibbled Ling’s ear, “with you.”
“Hmmm, that would be nice,” Ling said truthfully. She knew that Kiane envied her ‘special’ cell. Being the Captain’s consort gave her many privileges, not the least of which was a room with solid walls that gave her the rarest of all commodities in a prison – privacy.
Her cell was a converted storeroom underneath the communal dormitories. Just enough room for her bunk, a mirrored dresser and a pair of cupboards, but luxurious by prison standards. It was upended regularly and searched for contraband by guards, whether on the Captain’s orders or by their own zealous initiative, she didn’t know and didn’t care. It was a small price to pay for the luxury of being able to take in her choice of lovers.
“But you must go soon,” Ling added.
“Kiane pulled Ling’s face towards her. She kissed her on the lips. Her hand stopped the random patterning and now moved with purpose, but Ling stopped it.
“No, no more.” She hoped it didn’t sound rude. She was grateful for the intimacy and release Kiane gave her. “You really have to go before roll call.”
“Yes, you’re right, as usual.” Kiane sounded genuinely disappointed as she disentangled herself. It warmed Ling’s cold heart a little, before she reminded herself that Kiane was opportunistically using her much the same way she was similarly using the Captain.
Ling watched as her lover put her clothes back on. ‘Would it be the same if we were both free?’ Ling wondered.
She could barely remember the last time she had been with a ‘real’ man. Her first, such a long time ago, had been sweet and loving – to start with, but it had ended up a rough and abusive relationship. Ever since, the same pattern had played out, but with an ever shortening timeframe, until her work as an escort. Would it be any different with a woman?
“What would you do if you were to get out of here?” Ling, voiced her thoughts. She knew it was a mistake the moment the words left her lips.
Kiane stopped her dressing and gave Ling a cold stare. “You know I’m a lifer.”
“Yes, but…” Ling stammered, “but what if it did happen?”
“It won’t.” Kiane turned away. The sound of her jumpsuit press studs being clacked together punctuated the silence.
Ling wrapped her arms around Kiane. From behind, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Kiane returned her hug.
“But…”
“No!” Kiane broke away.
Ling watched silently as she hunted down her shoes, sat on the bed and put them on.
“Dreams are dangerous, Mistress,” Kiane said while lacing her shoes.
“I know, especially in here.”
Kiane said nothing, but lifted her feet onto the bed and hugged her knees. Ling rushed to sit beside her and put her arm around her lover.
“They took everything away,” Kiane kept her face buried so Ling couldn’t see her tears. “But that’s the one that hurts the most. I lost all my dreams for the future when they put me in here.”
Ling knew only too well that Kiane had long declared that she was innocent of all her manslaughter convictions, but she too knew how it felt to have everything taken away.
“I don’t know why you would even mention such foolish nonsense.” The admonishment was a measure of Kiane’s anger.
“The world outside is changing…”
Kiane lifted her head.
“The government is now part of the New World Order…”
“So?”
“So, if we were to say we were religious…” Ling let her words unfinished so Kiane could work it out for herself.
“I don’t get it.” She shook her head. “They would just keep you in here even longer.”
“No, you don’t know, but they’re segregating everyone. All the believers are being segregated…”
“So they’ll put you all in a special prison just for the religious crazies.”
“No, they’ll deport us to another country.” Ling watched as a flicker of hope kindled in Kiane’s eyes.
“But…” Kiane frowned, “I’m not religious.”
“I know.”
“And you’re definitely not.” Kiane grinned. “We’ve all seen you hundreds of times, up there, denouncing whatever religion she wanted you to.”
“Yes,” Ling was glad to see Kiane smile, but her own was humourless. “But now it would suit me to renounce my previous renouncement.”
Kiane’s face clouded. “The Captain would never allow it. She would see it as a personal defeat.”
“Yes,” Ling agreed. Kiane’s sentences might get transferred to a regular foreign prison if she were to declare herself a believer, but Ling’s long history of public declarations would be used to haunt her. It kept coming back to the same end-game moves.
“But what if the Captain weren’t around?” Ling said in a hushed voice.
“What do you mean? Is she being transferred away somewhere?”
“Not that I know.”
“Then what?” Kiane glanced involuntarily at the door, then in a lowered voice, “You mean killed? How would anyone get away with that?”
“I don’t know,” Ling admitted. “I hadn’t thought that far…”
“Is that what you want me for?” Kiane’s face hardened.
‘No, no. I would never ask you to do anything like that.”
“I just don’t see how it could happen.”
“An accident maybe?”
Kiane stood.
“No, Mistress,” Ling recognised the change in the persona that Kiane had now adopted. The impervious survival mask that she wore for prison life meant that she had closed herself to Ling and her plans.
She slapped Ling’s face gently, slowly, turning it into a playful erotic contact. “You’re dreaming my love.”
But her words put a chill into Ling’s heart as she watched Kiane leave.
Chapter 49
John ordered a coffee and while he waited, scrolled through his work e-mails on his phone.
Apart from the rosters, usual standard operating procedures updates, material safety data updates, demands for weekly and monthly reports, stocktake, inventory reviews, and performance reviews for his staff, almost all of which were overdue, there were several that stood from the usual. These were ones about registration with the New U.N.
The original had been forwarded on from the official government release, each layer of management within BlackSky adding their own comments and/or demands. The new U.N. logo caught John’s eye. A triangle surrounded what looked like three overlapping shooting-stars or comets, or maybe lobsided galaxies in the shape of a number six. The tails of these swirls radiated out to the corners of the triangle, their bodies overlapping in the centre.
He opened up the original official government announcement and started to read it carefully.
His coffee arrived and he sipped it and kept reading as he walked back to his desk.
Although couched in the flowery, optimistic language, he had learned to decipher, from dealings with Eloise, he could detect the underlying threatening tone. In essence, the announcement was saying that the new World Government required its citizens to be registered to be allowed to stay in the regions of the world that had pledged their allegiance to the New World order through the worldwide referendum. Those without the right credentials would be excluded and denied entry.
It also included other benefits being made available. These included use of any new technologies and access to the New U.N. websites and databanks as well as offers of future off-world travel and migration.
John arrived at his desk and fired up
his desk-top computer. He tried to work out how this would all work, in particular, how it would affect his life and those he cared about. Admittedly, now that Angela had finished with him, those had grown fewer lately.
She had said that she and her parents would be going to some religious area, Utah or was it Texas? No matter, he thought. He could feel his resentment building. He had been used, there was no denying it. Despite the feelings he still had for her, he wouldn’t be going with her now. She had gotten what she had needed from him – Zeke’s jealousy fuelled marriage proposal and the pills for her father – he shouldn’t expect to hear from her again.
His own family, he knew, would have to be registered. He skipped down to Eloise’s email to see if there were any deadlines.
He learned that the registrations took many forms. The simplest was to register on-line using your cell-phone number as identification. It figured, John thought. It was already one of the ways people were tracked, but now, once registered; the cell-phone number was locked to the person. You wouldn’t be allowed to change your number. May as well have it tattooed on your forehead, he thought.
As he read on, he found that, maybe as a further inducement, a cell-phone could be supplied to those who didn’t have one.
Future proposals, he learnt, included a discreet tattoo on the forearm or, if preferred, a microchip implant.
He turned his own forearm over and tried to imagine it with a barcode on it. Apart from the aesthetic drawbacks, it didn’t bother him too much. After all, he didn’t mind that his every movement could be tracked – they could already do that easily enough – he figured he had nothing to hide.
Reading on, he saw that there was an option for skin coloured tattoos that could only be seen with a UV light.
Whatever the option, he knew that a segregated society was now inevitable. Those registered would be living separate from the rest and it would be up to people like him to keep it that way.
The official deadline, he saw on the government release was still months away, but Eloise, typical of her hyper-efficiency, had added her requirements as well. She pointed out that since BlackSky employees were going to be needed to supervise and enforce this segregation, she was insisting that everyone in the company must be registered. Furthermore, she had nominated a specific date. John saw that it was timed for less than a fortnight away, time enough to prepare for the envoy’s visit to Los Angeles.
Chapter 50
Angela heard the rumblings of Zeke’s miniature monster truck pull up outside her house moments before her mother called her.
She checked herself again in the mirror. The face that stared back at her had changed. She had aged noticeably since John had come into her life; her lips were thinner, her eyes looked more tired and her cheeks were hollower than before.
She didn’t blame John. He was just the tool her mother had used to get what she wanted. No, they had both used him. She felt that guilt lodged deeply in her heart. It gnawed at her and soured her from within. She wished she could blame her mother for that; her mother’s justifications didn’t wash and only diminished her in Angela’s eyes, but she knew she too had played along.
None of it would have been necessary if Zeke had just kept his promise. That he had to be virtually arm wrestled into marrying her was the cause of it all. She took a calming breath, but the flames of her anger glowed like hot embers in her stomach. No wonder she looked so tired.
With a forced smile, she reminded herself she was now committed to this choice. John wasn’t a Christian and never likely to be. She should just forget about him. She wished she could apologise and make it right with him somehow, but even without her mother’s advice, she knew it would be better if he were left alone.
While Zeke wasn’t perfect, she decided, as she made her way down the stairs, it wasn’t Christian to let her anger towards him simmer away and poison any chance they might have for a happy future. It would be a challenge, she knew, but she would have to forgive him… eventually. In the meantime, he would simply have to be kept accountable and reminded what she needed to make her dreams of a contented family life come true.
“Ah, here she is now,” her mother announced needlessly as Angela descended the stairs.
Zeke smiled broadly at the sight of her. It looked genuine, but maybe the lack of sex was just making him more appreciative? She smiled back, but it was with the knowledge of all the suffering he would have to endure until they were finally married.
With a flourish he produced a bunch of flowers and with exaggerated formality presented them to her as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Lovely,” she said, passing them off to her mother without barely a look at them. ‘See, I can play this silly game too,’ she thought.
Predictably, while her mother fussed around for a vase, he swept her up in his arms and moved in for a kiss. She deflected it with a practiced, last moment turn of the head.
Zeke stepped back. She could see his jaw was taut and his lips tightly pressed together, but as he wrestled his frustrations down, his broad smile returned.
“Shall we?” she said sweetly, offering her hand.
“Dance?”
“Escort me to the table.”
Zeke groaned. “Really?”
Angela didn’t move. She just kept her faux smile in place.
“Fine,” Zeke shrugged. He took her by the hand and walked her to the table.
Places had been set for two, complete with tall candles, placemats, side plates and cutlery. Her mother was to play waitress tonight. Her father, having opted for an early night, was watching television in bed.
“Nice spread,” Zeke said.
Angela stood and waited for him to pull out her chair.
“Oh, come on?” Zeke rolled his eyes, but with extravagant movements, guided Angela to her chair and pushed it in as she sat.
“So what is this?” Zeke asked, sitting himself opposite, “Puppy school?”
Angela felt herself smile properly for the first time in what felt like ages. “Yes, I suppose it is, sort of.”
Zeke scowled initially, but with visible effort and a sigh, he too managed to put on a more pleasing demeanour. “Okay, like I’ve said already, I’ve taken you a bit for granted…”
“Yes, you have,” Angela said without rancour.
“And I’ve already said sorry…”
“Have you?”
“Haven’t I?” A lobsided grin spread across Zeke’s face. He brought out a small, black, velvet-coated box and offered it to her.
Angela felt her heart race. She resisted the urge to snatch it and open it right away. Instead, she waited to see if he did it properly.
Zeke stood and walked around to her side of the table. He knelt before her and took her hands in his. “Angela White,” he said, “I am truly sorry for any harm or trouble I may have caused. Please forgive me and make me the happiest man in the world by marrying me.”
Zeke opened the box to reveal an impossibly beautiful diamond ring.
At that moment her mother returned from the kitchen. “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed. “How romantic.”
Angela rolled her eyes.
“Wait. I’ll get the camera,” she added before dashing off to find it.
“Yeah,” Zeke said his voice heavy with sarcasm. “I’ll just wait here.”
“Sorry,” Angela shrugged. She felt annoyed too, but he had to realise if you marry me you practically marry my mother too. Not that she wanted anything to do with his parents.
“Well?” Zeke asked, still offering the ring.
Angela smiled and extended her hand. It was what she had always wanted, she reminded herself, and now it was really happening. She visualised her future with Zeke, reaffirming her commitment to the choices she had made.
She gasped and quickly withdrew her hand when she saw she still had John’s purity ring on her finger. She wiggled it off and offered her hand again.
Zeke smiled politely. At least he was gracious enough
to pretend he didn’t see John’s ring. Maybe he didn’t know what it was, or thought it was just one of her junk jewellery pieces.
He took her hand and slipped his engagement ring on her ring finger. With both hands, he held her hand and admired the result of his efforts.
“It looks good on you,” he said, looking into her eyes.
She gave him a brief smile before she held her hand out to inspect it. She had to agree, it was indeed a stunning ring.
“It fits okay?” he asked. “Chels knew your size.”
“Of course she would,” Angela said, remembering how she had helped John as well. She smiled and added, “It’s a girl thing.”
Her mother returned with a bulky SLR camera. “Oh, you’ll have to do it all again, she said as she tried to fit the flash. “Here,” she said handing the camera to Angela, “you’ll have to do this. Your father usually handles things like this.”
“Just use my phone,” Zeke said. He reached for his back pocket but stopped. “Maybe it would be better on your new phone, Angie.”
“It’s up in my room, charging,” she said, reaching for her mother’s camera. Zeke had decided she needed a ‘real’ phone and had taken it upon himself to get her one. He had even put in all her old contacts from her old phone – except one, but she didn’t begrudge him that. She shouldn’t need to ring John again, now that things were working out with Zeke.
“And thank you again. I haven’t even begun to get my head around all the things this new one can do.”
“It’s about time you had a real phone,” Zeke said with a pointed glance at Clarice.
Her mother pretended not to hear as she pulled a lighter from her apron and lit the candles. Angela fitted the flash, turned the camera on and handed it back to her mother.
“Now, smile,” Clarice demanded.
They posed and smiled obligingly.
‘I am happy,’ Angela reminded herself. ‘Not as thrilled as I would have been, had it been John, but that would have ended in pain and heartache eventually.’ She felt fairly certain she wasn’t just fooling herself. Her smile was starting to ache.