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Chapter 1
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“So many people thought that day would be historic – and it was…just not for the reasons they’d hoped for. For all the Central Government’s effort to kill our cause (and us), the end result only seemed to embolden the Radical movement.” ~Radical Archive – excerpt from the 2746 riots commentary “Grab the signs George, we have to go now,” Elisabeth said. She pulled her auburn hair back into a tie to keep the wavy bangs from her face. George walked into their common room carrying two protest signs. One read, “Recognize the Minority! We’re People Too!” and the other read, “Genetic Minorities Deserve Equal Rights!” He paused after entering and took a silent moment to admire his wife and daughter. Elisabeth and Ronnie were his two reasons for living; that’s why this protest felt so important to him. He and Elisabeth didn’t mind spending their lives fighting for equal rights if it meant Ronnie could live like a normal person. They’d spent their youth fighting the establishment in different ways. What began as graffiti and sit-ins evolved over the course of their young adulthood into organized rallies and political rebellion. They devoted their lives to fighting for everyone’s right to live free of government interference in their bedroom – and more specifically, in the lives of their potential unborn children. That’s why, when Elisabeth found out she was pregnant a little over five years ago, they knew their efforts were more important than ever. They vowed never to let the Central Government inoculate Ronnie – even if it meant they had to flee to the barren Canadian territories. Thankfully, it hadn’t come to that. They were able to relocate from Las Vegas north to the coast, just minutes from the western border wall, by the territory border. They found a commune of other genetic minority refugees that fled western cities for similar reasons. In their small flat, they lived for five wonderful years and worked toward government acceptance and recognition. That’s why this particular protest was so important. The computer geniuses within their movement succeeded in hacking the Central Government Archives mainframe. Through that, they were able to access information on genetic minorities being tracked surreptitiously through out the nation. They used this information to send messages to every genetic minority on the list to ask them to rise up in protest, all at once, in the government sectors of every major Central Government city. “Do you have the lunches packed?” George asked. He picked Veronica up from the couch she’d been napping on sporadically throughout the morning. “Hey sweetums. You ready to load up in the caravan to head to the tube?” Veronica rubbed the sleep from her hazel eyes. “Daddy?” She held her arms up as she took flight from the couch into her father’s arms. As George hugged her, Veronica played with his salt and pepper hair. “Everything is all set. Let’s go so we don’t miss the caravan.” Elisabeth grabbed her brown cotton side bag and slid the shoulder strap around her chest. The trio walked from their first floor walk up flat down the side street to the center of the community. A large orange bus awaited them, already half filled with other protesters brandishing signs and banners. They ranged in age and background vastly; old and young, upper and lower class, and everything in between worked together, bridging previous social and economic barriers. Their common cause dissolved previous disputes. In Elisabeth and George’s eyes, this wasn’t just a fight to secure their children’s future – it served as a pivotal point in societal integration and the move to become one community once again (for the first time since the Great War’s end). The three hour drive seemed to fly by. As they pulled into the outer tube station’s parking lot, the group’s excitement levels began to rise. Everyone knew the day would be historical – that it would be remembered for cycles to come. In their enthusiasm almost everyone seemed to overlook the increasing number of tube station security guards – all wearing newly issued gray fatigues. Their old black transit uniforms gone, these new uniforms made the men out to be more soldiers than security. The thought seemed absurd to Elisabeth though – the country hadn’t needed a standing military since the Great War. Local enforcement agents in police hubs handled everything adequately. She shook the thought from her head when Veronica tugged at her patterned sun dress. “Yes Ronnie?” She smiled at her daughter warmly. Veronica raised both arms up and prepared for her mother to pick her up and carry her through the turnstiles. Elisabeth picked her up, hugged her tightly, and followed George toward the turnstile banks. George pressed his hand against the identification terminal and waited on it to charge his account. When the light turned green, he pushed through the metal barrier and waited on the other side for Elisabeth to hand their daughter through. “I’m afraid she’ll need to scan too sir,” a nearby security soldier said. “She’s not on the system,” George responded. “We can charge my wife’s account for her passage.” “That’s fine, but you’ll also need to step into the security office and register her. It’s been law for some time now, so I’m sure you’ll appreciate the importance of keeping current,” he said curtly. He held out his arm and motioned for them to follow him to the security office a few paces away. “We’re with a larger party actually officer,” Elisabeth interrupted. “Would it be possible to do this en route home? We’re supposed to be in the city soon with our friends. We have to come back by this way anyway, so we’ll have to go through this again anyway.” She smiled, hoping her charm could sway the officer if only a little. “Fine, just make it fast,” he grunted. Elisabeth nodded appreciatively and handed Veronica through the turnstile to George. After placing her hand on the identification terminal and pushing through the turnstile, she let out a small sigh of relief. “That was close,” George said. “If he would’ve taken us into the office…” Elisabeth shook her head. “No, we can’t think like that. We just have to get her through her teenage years and then it’ll be too late for them to do any damage to her system with their inoculations.” She reached down and ran her fingers through Veronica’s red wavy locks. “We’ll have to figure out a way to get her back through here though. They’ve increased security since we last traveled through this hub,” George said. “We’ll think of something.” The trio rushed forward to the platform and boarded the train south bound for Las Vegas. Before the train reached the underground mag-tube (where magnetic force would substantially increase its speed and efficiency), they took in the scenery from their booth toward the back of the train. Although the border wall blocked most everything west of them, they could see just over the barbed wire when the train crested hills. Beyond the impenetrable reinforced border lay the ocean - and beyond that Cali Island. News reports on the Associated Journalism Guild interlink mentioned finding evidence of the famed San Francisco ruins deep underwater a ways off the reinforced northern coast of the island. The island itself differed substantially from the west coast mainland. Where the mainland contained desert and mountain ranges as far as the eye could see, Cali Island seemed to be a paradise full of palm trees, beaches, and local culture absent from the rest of the country. Veronica stood on her father’s lap and peeked out the very top of the window to catch a glimpse of the island paradise she’d never had a chance to see. Though her parents said she could go when she was older, she wanted to see it now. She simply couldn’t understand what was so dangerous about the Central Government finding out about her. What could they do to her if they found her anyway? After a brief stop one community down the line, the train resumed course and entered the underground tube. After a caution to remain seated and buckle in, the magnetics engaged and the train was flung south toward the bustling metropolis. “Would you like a sandwich Ronnie?” Elisabeth asked. She opened her shoulder bag and pulled out a fried tomato sandwich with sprouts, balsamic vinaigrette, and sliced artichoke hearts. “So what are we going to do once we get back to the tube station after the protest is over?” George asked. Elisabeth took a bite of her own sandwich and used the moment to ponder the question. “We may need to find another way back north.” “I realize that, but it’ll take a long time, even by land vehicle. We need to find a tech in the city to forge fingerprints,” George said. “That’ll be expensive. And on such short notice, they’ll also be temporary. We’ll be spending all that money just to have them dissolve in a day or so,” Elisabeth said. “Do you have any other better ideas?” Elisabeth bowed her head. “No.” She raised her head again and looked George in he eyes. “Put out a trans once we’re out of the tube. Whoever picks up the transmission first, we go there. We can’t waste time today.” The sound of steel on steel and intermittent wind gusts filled the drab train cabin the remainder of the trip. Veronica pulled up the arm rest from her red plush seat and curled into her mother’s lap to nap the remainder of the short trip while Elisabeth and George plotted out the best way of getting to the protest within the government district. Though Las Vegas stood as one of the oldest cities in the country – even older than the Great War itself – one wouldn’t know by looking at it. Centuries of design, expansion, and redesign transformed the desert oasis into a sprawling megalopolis. Although Las Vegas was once the center of all things sinful, the Great War and subsequent moral upheaval and rendition altered the city into a religious Mecca of sorts. More genetiphobes lived there per capita than anywhere else in the country. As the train pulled into Union Station-Las Vegas an hour later, Elisabeth led Veronica to find a bathroom while George looked for a public access terminal. After he found one in the public trans area toward the rear of the station outside the retail strip, he connected his personal computer tablet, uploaded the standard virus the most of the underground community used, and masked his transmission. Afterward, he connected to the minority undernet and put out a request for assistance and relayed his transmission frequency for responses. By the time Elisabeth and Veronica rejoined him, George had completed his task and greeted his family with a hug. “Ready to join history ladies?” The trip through the city, although uneventful, seemed to provide a glimpse of events to come. Everywhere they turned, the family saw shops with signs denouncing the protests and supporting the Central Government. Anyone carrying a sign or wearing a red armband (the chosen color for the protest) garnered nasty looks, whispered comments, and sometimes outright hostility right on the street from passing pedestrians. The Central Government’s demonizing campaign seemed to be working better than expected. Halfway to the protest site, George’s transmitter began vibrating in his pocket indicating a new message arrival. Text only, it read, “Request received. Stop after protest to the attached address just east of Silver Quad. Do not – and I repeat, do NOT – come here if violence erupts at the protest. I am only a hacker. I will not be your safe house. Please confirm receipt.” George typed a confirmation and sent the trans back to the tech, and crossed his finders that violence indeed wouldn’t erupt. They knew they’d arrived at the protest several blocks before they actually reached the site; throngs of protestors and counter-protesters clogged the streets and sidewalks for blocks in every direction. As they melted into the ocean of people, they could hear the speeches already in progress at some central location too far ahead to see. “…demanding not just toleration, but acceptance! And non-interference! We want to live as Central Government citizens, not as criminals on the lamb! We want normal lives uninhibited by mandated DNA change! God made us the way we are for a reason!” The voice boomed over the crowd through interspersed amplification systems. To George’s left, an angry woman shouted, “No special rights for genetic freaks! Send them all to an island and bomb it!” Elisabeth pulled Veronica closer to her and squeezed tightly. “George…” George nodded. “I know.” He began moving again, toward the booming positive voice. “…across the nation today in every major city! We’re here to be heard!” The voice broke in and out as the crowd drowned out the amps with applause and cheers. And then a disquieting silence swept through the crowd. Like a tidal wave working its way to shore, the silence moved inward, seemingly from every direction. As it reached George and Elisabeth, the wave crested at their shore as the entire street seemed serene for a few fleeting seconds. The first gun shots shattered that peace though. Screams pierced the air from the same direction the gun shots emanated from, and then resistance from the crowd as people began pushing their way away from the violence. “Something’s wrong,” Elisabeth said quietly. “Keep a hold of her. I need to make sure Ronnie has insurance,” George responded. Gun shots rang out in several directions now – all from indeterminate streets. With panic setting in, people began pushing one another to get away from the streets before they fell down from the oncoming horde. The original unisex voice from the amplifier chimed in again, this time in a strained voice. “Soldiers. Gray fatigues. Run, everyone run!” Another gun shot echoed over the amplifier revealing the fate of the brave protestor. “Gray fatigues?” Elisabeth asked no one in particular. “The tube station,” George said. “They’re everywhere. They planned this.” His face turned paler with the realization the Central Government decided to take this opportunity to take care of its genetic minority problem. “What are we going to do George? We have no where to go,” Elisabeth said with increasing panic. “We do what we came here to do.” He looked down at his terrified daughter. “Ronnie, do you remember those reading lessons we went through all the time back home?” Veronica nodded. “Yes daddy.” “I need you to be a big girl for me.” George pulled the transmitter from his pocket and accessed the tech’s trans from earlier. “Hand me something to write on Elisabeth,” he said. “What are you doing?” Elisabeth asked. “Saving our daughter… now do as I asked, quickly!” He grabbed the slip of paper from his wife’s trembling hand and quickly jotted down the address. “Ronnie? I need you to pay attention to me. Do you see this paper?” He handed Veronica the slip of paper with the address. “Yes daddy?” she asked timidly. “I need you to go here. Can you read this?” George asked. Veronica read the address and nodded. “Yes daddy.” “Can you memorize it for daddy?” He knew this would be the only way. “Repeat it back with me now.” He said the address aloud with her three times as practice. “I’ve got it daddy,” Veronica said. “Promise?” he asked. “It’s easy! Why though daddy? Are we going there?” Veronica asked. George choked back a sob. “No sweetums. You’re going there. If you need help finding it, ask one of the soldiers in the gray fatigues and say your family lives there and they’ll help you.” Elisabeth’s eyes widened. “George, no!” “They won’t harm her if they think she lives here with one of their fundamentalist crazies Elisabeth, think about it.” George looked down to his daughter once more. “Put the address in your pocket and don’t take it out unless you forget. Can you tell me the address one more time without looking?” Veronica smiled hesitantly. “213D Ryson Row, Crimson Quad.” She looked up at Elisabeth and asked, “Where are you going mommy?” “Mommy and daddy have to help their friends, sweetie. I need you to go hide behind a dumpster or building until it’s safe to come out, and then do as your father asked. Do you understand?” Elisabeth wiped a tear from her left cheek. Veronica hugged Elisabeth. “I love you mommy. Don’t make me go!” She couldn’t hold it back any longer; Elisabeth finally broke down into a guttural sob. “I love you to Veronica, but we have to go. If we all three try to go there, something bad might happen to you.” Veronica nodded. The violence seemed to be getting closer to them, and somewhere in her head, Veronica knew this. Even if it didn’t register, Veronica knew she was saying goodbye. “Daddy?” She held out her arms for her father. George picked Veronica up and nuzzled her against his stubbly chin. “I love you so much pumpkin.” Elisabeth joined the embrace. They stood there until they couldn’t any longer…until they could see men in gray fatigues in the distance mowing people down like they were shooting for target practice. Elisabeth and George knew it was time. George slid Veronica down his body little by little out of his arms, and pushed away from her. “Go now Ronnie, and don’t look back. And always remember we love you,” George said. “I love you Veronica!” Elisabeth said. She buried her face in George’s shoulder and wept. Veronica ran across the street and made it to the corner before stopping. She turned, looked back at her parents, and saw they were still standing there hugging one another. She slid down against the side of a building, slightly in the alley beside it out of the way. She needed to know what was going to happen to her parents. She needed to know why she was running away. Moments later, as the men in gray fatigues arrived, she discovered exactly why. Elisabeth and George lifted their hands above their heads, surrendering without a fight; it didn’t stop the soldiers though. They repeatedly shot Veronica’s parents right there, in the middle of the street, and moved on to the next person down the line. Somewhere in her throat a scream waited to escape. For now though, shock and numbness were all Veronica could feel. She leaned her head against the cold brick wall, closed her eyes, and wished away the blood and violence surrounding her from every direction. She wouldn’t realize until much later – after the violence ended, after the streets cleared – that her young nervous system couldn’t handle the shock and shut down. Only nudging from the blunt end of a rifle would wake her from the dreamless sleep she’d been in for hours. The sight of three armed soldiers in gray fatigues standing high above her didn’t terrify Veronica; rather, the thought that she had to face them (and the world) alone did. She fumbled in the jumbled mess inside her head to remember the address her father made her memorize. Veronica began shivering as a breeze blew over her exposed arms – something her mother hadn’t planned for since they should’ve been en route home well before sunset. “What’s your name little girl?” one of the soldiers asked. Veronica looked up at him, wondering if he’d really use his gun if she answered wrong. She took a deep breath, pretended she was playing house with her mother and that this was just another role in one of their elaborate plays, and dove into the lie her parents helped weave hours prior. “Veronica, and I got lost. I walked outside with my puppy and got lost in the crowd.” The soldier nodded. “Where do you live Veronica?” he asked skeptically. Veronica looked him square in the eyes, knowing her father had prepared her for this very moment. “213D Ryson Row, Crimson Quad.” The words flowed naturally from her mouth as if she said the address daily. Without blinking, she continued, “Could you help me get home sir?” She added a half smile for good measure. The soldiers looked at one another silently, all nodding at one another. After a moment, the one that had been asking her questions spoke again. “Sure, but we’ll need to talk to your parents about you going outside on a day like this. These are dangerous people and you could’ve been hurt.” He held out his arm, pulled Veronica up from the ground, and began leading her to her new home. |
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The Radical Chronicles is Copyright © 2009 by Tim Peacock.
