by P. L. Camery
“True enough,” Lawrence reclaimed her hand as the continued their descent, “Actually, I have something I want to share with you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” the boy rubbed his hand behind his neck, suddenly shy, “It’s this poem I wrote.” He stopped and pulled a folded piece of paper from his pants pocket.
“Is it written for me?” Mavis asked sheepishly.
“Sadly no,” Lawrence handed her the paper and turned on the flashlight on his phone. “But I was hoping you’d find it interesting anyways.”
Smirking, Mavis unfolded the paper and read it to herself:
Democris, the city below ground,
Taking strength embedded in rock,
In ideals so foreign yet sound,
But which few care to take stock.
We may not live in the great city,
But live citizens of its rebel ideal,
Oppression looks down and with pity,
They are blind to the truth that we feel.
Yet within the stone there is a flaw,
A single crack to tear us down,
If struck too hard strong stone will fall,
And bow down to Guardian’s crown.
But so long as one wall stands,
We will fight with our bear hands.
Mavis looked back up at him, “Are you sure you wrote this? It seems too good. Maybe you found it in some old archives since nothing creative or meaningful is allowed in modern society.”
The boy laughed, “Well I’ve never shown you my writing before, how would you know what it’s like? But if you have your doubts, Cal could vouch for me.”
“And what are you trying to say with this one?”
Lawrence shrugged, “Just that the people running things down here are idiots and could ruin us, but as long as there are people to embody the rebel spirit it won’t die.”
“A powerful statement for such nonchalance.”
He shrugged again, “I believe in it, I believe so completely it’s like breathing to me.”
Mavis considered this then skimmed over the poem again. “You said Cal could vouch for you, so he has seen your poetry before- like you’ve written other poems?”
“Maybe,” the boy grinned, “None of the others have to do with reality or politics. My poetry mostly revolves around imagery representing thoughts and emotions and whatever other bullshit I can come up with.”
“So why am I barely discovering this about you?” The boy shrugged again, and Mavis rolled her eyes. “More importantly I guess, is there anything written about me?”
Lawrence gave her a knowing smile but responded by resuming his downward trip. “Lawrence tell me!”
“Yes, but I can’t show you yet.”
“But why not?”
“Because,” his movements stiffened in discomfort, “it’s not ready…”
Mavis shook her head as she trailed behind him, “Okay, then tell me what inspired this particular poem.”
When he glanced back at her his eyes seemed to light up. “Initially I got the idea because my mind was on the topic of backstabbing politicians. But that tangent was also sparked from this passage I read in my Before Civilization class textbook.” Fully animated, he swiped a few keystrokes in his phone to bring up a copy of the book. “Most of the class is a bunch of propaganda, drilling into our heads how horrifying the old dis-unified governments all were. But this passage on the transition between old and new was pretty interesting.” Mavis took the phone and read:
Machiavellian Tactics: Prior to the Regime of the Guardian, society was unruly, plagued with revolts and crimes of every sort (See chapter 3). In order to aid the transition into civilized life, the Reapers and the drones were employed. Although drones had been utilized previously, society had never before seen such a widespread use. However, the magnitude of fatalities among civilians who needed only the disciplining of the Guardian quickly resulted in reserving this technology for the elimination of large rebel groups, as they are used today. The Reapers were early predecessors to the Imperial Police and Army of Hassdrin; however, these strict cruel men were much harsher than their modern counterparts. They initiated the use of modern disciplinary tactics, which will be discussed in Chapter 12. However, instead of bringing offenders to be tried and punished, as is common practice today, they would deliver punishments on sight of a given offense. Further, the renouncement of criminals prior to public execution was preceded by a beating performed by the Reapers for the benefit of the populous. The First Guardian bore no association to the extremist tactics of the Reapers; and one order had been established, the Reapers were terminated by the Guardian for the care and love of his people. This the grateful and adoring populous transitioned easily into the Regime of the Guardian.
When she finished, Mavis looked up waiting for an elaboration. Lawrence began, “See they always tell us that the Regime of the Guardian was an inevitable advancement, a sort of evolutionary step that humanity had to take. But they never mention how that step was taken. But now,” he tapped the screen on his phone, “now that we know the how we should use it to our advantage. Modify or take aspect from it to fit our purpose. Convince the public that rebel liberation from the Guardian is what they want.”
“You think like a lunatic baby,” Mavis laughed, “I love it.”
Lawrence nodded proudly then continued, “Of course I’d never say any of this to my professors. But the classes I’m taking are almost all interesting like that. They make me think, and it’s a satisfying thing to have a novel thought even though I can’t share it.”
“Sounds like you’re enjoying the upper cast classes,” Mavis commented, a hint of envy in her voice, “At my university most of the class time is spent on remedial junk I have to pretend to be struggling with. How have you been doing in school?”
Lawrence responded to the question with a blush then said, “Um, less than optimal.” When Mavis raised her eyebrows he sighed and continued, “I’m slipping, not far but noticeably… Test scores in the high nineties are dropping almost into the eighties, which for my program results in a few B minuses… Not a big deal if I had the charisma of a leader, the aptitude for political strategy. But my professors have talked to me; they said I’m becoming aloof from my peers. I know everyone in the program trusts me, respects me and my opinion but apparently that’s not enough. Apparently by now I’m supposed to be developing networks, gaining the loyalty and devotion of my future coworkers. But that takes time, the academics take time, but the rebellion also takes time…”
They reached the bottom of the staircase and Mavis took him in for a hug, “I’m sorry Lawrence.”
“Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” the boy tried to pull away, but she only held tighter, “Really it’s not your fault, I’m probably not up to the job.”
“If you aren’t than no one is.”
“Ha!” the boy jerked himself free of his girlfriend, “I bet you’d do a hundred times better than I have.”
“That’s not…”
“Sure, it is!” Lawrence snapped, “Here I am, in way over my head, and you, wishing for a challenge. You’re way more capable than I am.”
“That’s not true and you know it!”
“Do I?” his eyes flared dangerously.
“Yes! You do!” Mavis sighed when he did not respond then continued, “Think about it for a second Lawrence. If I were more qualified than you, then why do you outrank me? Not in cast but here in Democris. Why do you have power and not me?”
“Because I had more opportunities,” he rebutted, “I happened to have an upper cast education, both my parents were rebels, you were starting from a disadvantage from the beginning.”
There was silence between them.
A mix of emotions welled within Mavis. On the one hand the truth of his statement outraged her. Why couldn’t I have been in his position? I’m just as capable, just as smart, just as devoted. But on the flip si
de there was still Lawrence and his emotions. He was the right person for this job; opportunity alone could not accomplish what he had done at such a young age. But even if I tell him his he wouldn’t believe me.
Finally, Mavis shook her head, “I don’t know what you want me to say Lawrence.”
He gave her a sad smile, “Me neither.”
“Maybe, maybe I…” she sighed and shook her head.
“What?” the boy insisted.
“I don’t know Lawrence- maybe I should take away from one of your responsibilities.”
His eyes narrowed, “What do you mean?”
“Like maybe- maybe we should break up. I know you’re taking a risk just by being with me, if we are caught you can be arrested or demoted to second cast, not to mention I’d probably be executed for damaging government property. I also know you take every spare moment you can to be with me, that you slack in other areas to make sure I feel cared for…”
“No,” Lawrence said, his tone so forceful it made Mavis jump, “Mavis I don’t give a damn about any of it; I know the risks, I know what I’m doing.
“This isn’t up for debate Lawrence,” Mavis decided, convinced by his weary gaze, “I’ve already made up my mind.”
“Well so have I, and I say this is not over, I’m not going to lose you.” They stared each other down for several seconds before the girl shook her head then turned away from him, her heart constricting as she began to walk. “Mavis,” his voice was weak now, desperate and pleading, “Mavis don’t go.”
She turned back to face him. “But there’s so much at stake, isn’t it better if we just end it?”
He straightened, eyes shining with conviction, “No.”
Mavis reached out and cupped his cheek. She watched him as he closed his eyes and pressed his hand over her small fingers. “Pause for a second, Lawrence, think about this. Then tell me what you really think is best,” she said softly.
Lawrence opened his eyes and Mavis sucked in her breath at the depth of his gaze, “Being strong, staying together.”
There were now tears brimming in Mavis’s eyes. She took him by his shirt collar and pressed her head into his chest. “I don’t want to lose you,” she spoke each word as a sentence as drops streamed down her face, and she lightly punched him.
Lawrence wrapped his arms tightly around her and squeezed, tears beginning to bead his own face, “You won’t. Not now, not ever.”
The tears intensified as Mavis pounded harder into his chest, “Why can’t it be okay? Why can’t things just work out the way they seem to for every other damn person?”
Lawrence tightened his hold on her, racking up his mind for all the logical reasons. He opened his mouth to respond then thought better of it and bit his lip. Finally, he said, “Because we aren’t built to settle for what the world says we deserve.”
“I- I know that, I get that,” Mavis said, her voice rising, “but it’s just- uggg!” The frequency of her blows increased. “Damn it!” She clung to his shirt and buried her face in his shoulder.
Lawrence squeezed her and kissed the top of her head as his tears fell into her hair. “I don’t know what to do,” his voice seemed childlike, helpless, “I just know what I want more than anything, and that’s you Mavis, nothing else.”
The sound that escaped her lips then was something between a sob and laughter, “I know Lawrence. I just wish it didn’t have to be so hard.”
As he stroked her hair, he seemed pensive. After a moment he spoke, “I have something for you Mavis, something to show you what you mean to me, what you are to me. Would you like to read it?” Before she could reply he pulled another folded paper from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. Briefly Mavis wondered how many such notes he carried with him, then she disregarded the thought and opened it. She raised her eyebrow at the title, but when he only smiled, she returned her gaze to the paper and read:
Rock in the Storm
The wind howls in his ears screeching and high pitched,
As waves crash against him, waning his strength,
Shooting rocks and shells though what rags remain,
Of the garments that were once so finely stitched.
Blood and bruises trickle down his body’s length,
Into the sting of salt water which receives less than a stain,
Of the agony draining through cuts of burning red,
While he screams out, though there’s nothing to be said.
The cold surrounds him, growing deeper with the darkness,
Making him stiff and numb, yet aware enough to feel.
Ravage seas charge into him, thieving him of breath,
And choking him with a salty fire that fills his throat and chest,
And pressing him into the massive rock with edges sharp like steel.
She is slipping from his fingers, this stone that stopped his death.
His limbs are weak and survival is slim,
Would it be best just to give in?
Yet he clings to her, this strength that fights the sea,
He clings to her with all his might, and all his wish to be.
Without this presence, he likely would have drowned,
And so long as he has her, he knows he won’t be downed.
When Mavis finished, she was at a loss for words. Lawrence chuckled then kissed her nose. “So, see,” he whispered in her ear, “you can’t ever leave me. You’re my rock. I need you.”
For a moment she could only stare at him, fully overwhelmed with the emotion filling her chest, then she threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him with all her strength, “Never leave me either.”
*****
“It’s been four days agent Richardson, and Kenneth Seeks is still alive,” Grant growled at the boy standing in the center of the conference room, “If your operation was as successful as you said it was, explain to us how this is possible.”
Lawrence shook his head, “I don’t know sir. I saw Cadet Cruz inject the poison. The only explanation I could think of is that somebody sabotaged the contents of her vial.”
“But for that to be true,” a councilwoman responded coldly, “it implies that someone within the rebel league is loyal to the enemy.”
“That’s the only reasonable explanation,” Lawrence said evenly, “perhaps the same person who sent troops to invade Doctor Lance’s…”
“Always so quick to accuse your fellow rebels,” Admiral Perry cut in, “how do we know you’re not lying about Cadet Cruz’s success. Maybe she never made it into the manor at all.”
The boy clenched his fists, his blood boiling from the accusation, “I have the footage in my lab if you so insist on proof Steve.” The admiral’s first name came out as a slur.
“That would be much appreciated special agent,” Grant said.
Lawrence turned, stung that the council head doubted him. He swallowed down a snide remark and responded, “Yes sir, I will have it sent to you right away.”
“Regardless of Miss Cruz’s part in this operation,” said the councilman from Rodric County, “there is a rat among us,” he paused to glance at each man and woman in the room, “and it would be best to smoke out this person before any more damage is done.” There was an anonymous murmur agreement.
“I for one,” Perry said in booming voice, “suggest a full out investigation on agent Richardson.”
“What?” Lawrence demanded.
Perry ignored the question and continued, “The young uppercastman has had a hand in both of our recently failed operations. He should be questioned and kept on observation. And until he is found innocent, if he is in fact so, the council should not involve him in any operations.”
“You can’t be serious,” Lawrence turned in a full circle, meeting the pensive and distrustful eyes of each individual in the council. “Come on! If you all stop and think for a minute, you’ll realize I am one of the best assets you have, you can’t throw me on the side bur
ner and waste resources on a useless investigation.”
“Yes, you are an important resource,” it was councilwoman Fera that spoke, “But you are also a boy, impulsive and malleable.”
“There is no one more dedicated to this rebellion than me!” Lawrence bellowed, “no one who spends more time working and balances more shit than I do.”
“That’s enough Lawrence,” Grant growled. “We are all loyal to the cause here.”
The boy took a deep breath, struggling to contain his outrage, “Yes sir.”
Grant nodded, “I am glad you understand that. Now, as for the circumstance, it is prudent I feel, to have you off the council.”
“But…”
Grant held up his hand, silencing the boy, “It is clear to me, and I’m sure my fellow council members would agree, that you have proven from previous operations to be an effective agent. However, given the recent developments, we must investigate your last two assignments. Whether or not to have you under suspicion is the council’s decision. And you will excuse me for pointing out why we wouldn’t want you to be part of that decision.”
“And to be perfectly frank,” Fera input, “You were too young to ever be put on the council in the first place, the rest of us have been considering this for some time. You’re too radical for this council.”
“You can’t be serious,” Lawrence raged, turning back to Grant, “I am the single most effective agent in all of Democris, I need to be part of the decision-making process, not to do so would be reducing your most valuable resource to little more than a trained dog.”
“The council needs unity Lawrence,” Grant’s tone was grave, “the majority have voted that you don’t contribute to that unity.”
“But I…”
“Leave Richardson,” Perry sneered, “and let the adults discuss what to do with you.”
Lawrence came from the room seething frustration. It took every ounce of will power not to bolt back inside and explode in a flurry of outrage.
But what good would it do, the boy thought, asshole Perry’s already got them convinced I’m an untrustworthy little brat. A tantrum would only fuel his argument…no matter how satisfying it may be.