'The person in the mirror
Wasn't who I wanted to be,
And life wasn't the one I wanted to have.
.
You, who present yourself under different names,
Yet decided to keep the same appearance.
.
You are a thousand things,
But everyone sees the million,
You are not.
.
You are not
Where you are from
You are
Where you are going.
.
I'd like
to go there
But you always leave me behind,
Because
You are not me…
.
- LOVE:less act 5 -.
...
...
...
Our society succeeded in qualifying people's emotional and mental states. Based on the Social Credits, society calculates the numerical value of a human.
Today, a human soul - or whatever is left of it – can be judged before they commit crimes. They are judged by the "Aleksithimia Technology and Science Corporation", a massive surveillance network we call 'Mitera System'.
Thanks to Mitera and its long policy of violation, we, 'Keepers', along with local citizens, have been told that we escaped countless tragedies and became the only peaceful nation in the world. The long-awaited peace cost us much more than we thought. People long forgot the meaning of love and friendship, compassion, and hope. We became emotionless vessels, obeying the machines that we had created with the purpose to serve us.
We made history and created a future in exchange for our humanity. If only that was it…The real answers will remain shrouded in darkness, along with the true crimes that lurk beneath the surface, carefully hidden away. But like in the cycle of life, no one can control nature, not even the emperor himself. One day the 'King' will become hunted and whatever he is concealing beneath the surface will make its way to the light one way or another.
...
[September 25th. Genf - TechnoPark, past 7:30 PM].
The hooded silhouette, almost a foot shorter than everyone else, moved along in the thick crowd, surrounded by fierce footsteps and the clicking of polished heels. The city of a million lights was now awake from its daytime doze.
.
Holograms and shopkeepers screamed out offers at the top of their voices to attract customers and customers desperately tried to bargain for the best possible prices. Each hologram was promoting its products, starting from the brand-new body augmentations and its upgrades, prothesis, cosmetics, and many more. This was the 'TechnoPark' or the biggest 'Cyber Market' in the Lands of Aleksithimia. The place was always drowning in a sea of people. Not a single empty spot could be made out between the vendor stalls.
.
"Cheap body augmentations!" A female hologram was attracting customers to its shop.
"Buy and Top-Up Mitera Services," shouted another hologram.
"Welcome, we have new Kanjöga augmentations! Please visit our shop!" shouted another hologram in the distance.
.
Market stalls lined the route. People looked more like a human mass, bumping into each other, toes trodden on. Whoever liked their own private space was not welcome here as the only rule in the 'TechnoPark' was 'First come, first served'.
.
"I hate this place, so noisy..." Nion mumbled. "Mitera, can you reroute the destination? I don't want to go through the market, way too many people."
"Understood," replied Mitera.
.
Nion drifted away from the main street and disappeared into the maze of the back alleys.
.
A stretching corridor, almost a kilometer long. forming a straight, and narrow line was surrounded by buildings that were too high to bother showing the grey sky. The sound of the busy road ricocheted from one side to the other until it became an echo as Nion advanced in the tiny alley. Occasional graffiti was carved into the dark brown brick walls. The half-lit lane looked like another city entirely. An emptied vessel that had become the home of the underworld, perfect and clean in a way, yet so empty and monotone.
.
Before the third world war, that alley used to be one of the busiest street-food markets; full of small Asian and Western-themed fast-food restaurants, the alley was very popular during the late hours with office employees who worked around that area and frequented its food stores after their work hours were over. It had offered delicious traditional food for low prices and had been characterized by a very casual, welcoming atmosphere.
.
Occasional drunk salaryman sleeping on the tables was not a rarity around this area. Sadly, due to the tax implementations, all these small businesses had to shut down. From the once busy alley, now all that was left were repainted façades with condemned signs on the doors, the interior of shops full of dust, abandoned by their owners ever since the collapse of the 'Grand Central' era.
.
Nion looked around. Not a single soul in front or behind her.
.
"Creepy..." She blinked and continued her walk on the perfectly aligned stone street. A brief breeze blew through the alley carrying the smell of a perfect pre-winter chill.
.
"Hey, young lady," a deep bassy voice called.
The sudden voice startled Nion out of her walking pace and she froze, immobile for a couple of seconds.
.
"Yes, you. Got some change?" the same voice called once more.
.
Nion slowly turned her head over her shoulder. In front of an abandoned subway entrance, an old man was sitting on the steps. He looked at least 70 years old, which was an extremely rare age to see after the 'Gan' pandemic. He sat on some sort of cardboard, dressed in many layers, a brilliant scarlet cloth protruding beneath the smudges of exhaust-fume pollution, his body silhouette bulging.
.
"Be careful, he is surely from 'Metro'," Mitera warned.
"Then what is he doing here?" Nion nervously whispered. "They are not allowed to come outside!"
.
"Oh! What is a kid like yourself doing here at such a late hour?" the old man asked.
"I highly advise you to ignore him. Talking with him will lower your score even further," Mitera advised.
.
"I know, I know, stay quiet for a second..." Nion slowly advanced towards her caller.
"Don't worry, I won't bite." He laughed as he lit a cigarette. "I am just an old man begging for some spare coins."
.
Nion carefully approached him and crouched against the tin walls, taking in shallow breaths, careful not to make a sound. Her eyes kept scanning him as if he were a ghost. The more she looked at him, the more he spiked her curiosity.
.
Both the man and the young Keeper looked at each other in complete silence. It felt as if the whole world stopped moving just for that one moment.
.
The old man had slowly removed the piece of cloth that he was using to cover himself. The sudden movement made Nion jump onto her toes, hand on her hilt.
.
"The only one who can hurt one of us is you... You know that, right?" He has reached out to Nion with his hand. "Now, calm down a bit, keep an old man some company would'ya? It is rare when people walk by, and even more rare when they actually stop," he laughed.
.
At the touch, Nion realized that there was something wrong with his hand. It felt rather unnatural.
.
"So, what is your name little one?" he asked.
.
She slowly rolled up the sleeve over his arm. It was a plastic prosthesis, cold to the touch and light like a feather, almost identical to those of the old mannequins that were used in retail shops. Full of small bruises, the prosthesis looked too old, almost vintage, and definitely not convenient for someone to live with every day.
"No-one has these things anymore," Nion said.
The old man laughed. "You have no idea!"
.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"Most of the people who I used to know wore this. The new models are so expensive, even my old kidney won't be enough." He raised his arm in the air. "This one does the job."
.
"What are you doing out here?" Nion asked.
"You sure ask lots of questions but aren't willing to answer any of mine," he laughed again.
.
After a short moment of reflection, she decided to answer him. "My name is Quarta..." Nion replied.
"Here we go! Quarta is a very unusual name." He inhaled his cigarette. "Nowadays, young folks call themselves with all them weird-ass names. I wouldn't even call my rat like that." He laughed. "World sure changed from what it used to be back in the day."
.
Nion remained silent. "You?" Nion asked.
"Samuel, but you can call me Uncle Sam." He offered his prosthetic arm for a handshake.
.
"Are you alone?" Asked Nion.
"Yes, mam. Waiting for my death like a 'Toast for butter' - you know what I mean." He laughed, then let out a dry cough, the tobacco smoke catching in his throat.
"Toast for butter...?" Nion looked confused.
.
"There are lots of things that want me dead in this damn world, if not that psycho Aleksi whatever his name is, then it will be 'Creepers' in Metro; if not them, well, I'll just die from hunger or diabetes!"
.
"Sounds harsh..." Nion offered a regretful smile.
.
"Yes, it is... But hey, I've survived for 78 years so far, I'll be fine." He exhaled a large cloud of smoke from his mouth then offered the cigarette to Nion who gently refused.
.
"I don't like... 'this'." She waved her hand.
.
"And you are right! I will probably die in the next 2 years or so... So you know... Just enjoying my last moments in this shithole." He laughed.
.
"Ahem, here, take this." She handed him a pile of coins that she had prepared for the 'Social Credit' payment.
.
"Sweet Jesus, that's a lot! Are you sure about that?" He almost refused it.
.
"Please take it, it will be more useful for you than for me," she insisted.
.
"You know what? You are my ray of sunshine!" He grabbed her hand.
"No worries."
"I mean it! Thank you very, very much, young lady. I appreciate you giving some hope to an old man." He shook her hand, almost in tears. "Perhaps y'all aren't as rotten as I thought you are."
.
"Not everyone but there a few nice people in this city," Nion said.
.
He smiled through his tears. "You know..." He took a small flask from his inner pocket and took a sip from it. "Back in the day, I used to be a wealthy man! And I swear on the name of God, when I say wealth, I mean it! People called me 'Mister Samuel', the best trader in America... I shit you not, I even had my own driver, yes I said it! A driver just for me. That bastard drove so fast I thought that he would kill me one day!" He laughed. "Not, a single accident! Do you hear me? He worked for me for more than 10 years; not a single accident, not even one! He was a great man, Luckas, his name was Luckas..." The man coughed again. "And madame Dowie, god damn! She was one of the finest women I've ever met! Who do you think she was working for?"
"Eh... I don-" Nion tried to reply but got cut in the middle of the sentence.
"You are damn right! She was my secretary." When Samuel was talk talked about his past he looked like the happiest man in the world.
"I was going to the fancy restaurants, spending my money as if it were the last day of my life, I had everything, women, houses, cars... Everything a young businessman like myself would ever dream of!"
.
"Okay..." mumbled Nion.
.
"And then, in 2048, not even a month after Charlie, my youngest boy's birthday, the 'European Union' collapsed... Y' all folks probably never heard of those times... When the 'European Union' collapsed everything went down... The economy, finances, jobs, health insurance, everything went from bad to worse every day... We knew that was coming, but the men in power took too long, as usual. In the 2060's they tried to rebuild whatever was left of the European Union and called it the Grand Central, but by then it was too late." He took another sip. "And then the Gan virus... I ran out of money just by paying for medicament, food, and water... tons of water... Because once you get that shit, you live for drinking water. Every single day we drank like 30 gallons of water! In normal times 30 gallons of water would be enough for 50 people! Let me tell you something... We were only 4 people, my two kids, my wife, and me! And if don't drink enough guess what happens to you..."
.
"I am sorry..." Nion said.
.
"Then out of nowhere WW3 happened, I remember that as if it were yesterday -when the president of the United States announced that we are at war, me and my wife, we cried. We had enough for God's sake... It felt like the whole world was about to explode. Next thing we knew, the government forced all cadets and young adults to enter the army. And then there was nothing... None of my kids has ever come back... My wife was so worried and stressed out about them that she got sicker each day, until one day her heart just let go..."
.
He tried to light up another cigarette but his hands were too shaky.
.
"Here," Nion took his lighter and helped him. "You should stop smoking..."
.
A sound of alarm rang on his wristwatch and Samuel stood up. He shuffled, his head moving this way and that, unsteady like there was a personal earthquake beneath his cardboard. His grey hair hung like a tangled mop of brown and grey while a white beard traveled down his dark overcoat.
"Since I've been on the streets, the only thing I receive are averted gazes as the passers-by try to avoid looking at my desperate face, they just don't know my story... Nobody cares, why would they...? Some of you try to look sympathetic, but I can see through that 'Sorry' facade to only find their disgust...'
.
"We are not the same..." Nion replied.
"Same or not, you are the first person from the 'Overground' who was kind to me!" He wiped his nose.
.
"I am sorry for what you've been through..." Nion replied as she looked him in the eyes. They were set somewhere far away, further than Nion could comprehend or reach in her current state.
.
As expected, the harshness of street life had taught Samuel how to stay isolated and, most importantly, alive in every possible way. Every single day was meant to survive for a bit longer, acquire better knowledge to go through whatever tomorrow would bring.
.
Samuel exhaled a large cloud of smoke. "Sometimes... I do agree with that brat who is now the leader of this country... If there was a God…" He took a deep breath and paused for a moment. "He is now gone..."
.
"God is like a mythological creature. He never existed in the first place. The only supreme leader in this world is called 'Science'," replied Nion.
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"And money, lots of it..." He laughed. "Thank you for keeping me company, Quarta, was it?" He tapped her on the shoulder.
.
"Actually, my name is Nion," she replied.
.
"Nion... That's a beautiful name you got. Much better than 'K-WAR-TA'." Both smiled as they looked at the dark sky.
.
It was past midnight, the sun had long gone to rest, the moon taking over its place as the darkness enveloped the whole continent. The air was still and heavy and thick clouds blotted out the stars.
.
"I like the night, it hides my flaws, my imperfections, everything is silent as if the whole city belongs to me..." Nion said.
.
At that very moment, a tiny ray of moonlight enlightened Nion's amethyst eyes. The old man shook as he saw their illuminated colour.
.
"Those eyes... I've heard of it before," he said. "Those are the eyes of someone who died countless times... The cursed heritage of The Sixth Judgement..."