Gregory parked his hoverbike on the side of the road. He removed the key, the lights died, and the bike clapped the pavement. He got off and checked his surroundings. There were plenty of night clubs along the strip competing for young people—each one trying to outdo its neighbour by playing hit songs and sending out pretty employees to hand out fliers and charm clients into entering their particular club. Music pounded against the doors and walls, becoming a dull roar in the street. Boys walked along the sidewalk in expensive leather jackets, shirts, and jeans. Some girls wore small shirts that showed their belly buttons and toned stomachs. Others wore dresses or skin-tight bodysuits with low necks to show off their breasts. One blew a kiss at Gregory. He looked away, feeling awkward.
Gregory stared at the pale blue windows of Café Amrite. A potted plant dangled from a hook near the entrance. He pocketed his key, strode over to the door, pushed it open, and ducked inside, carrying his helmet under his arm.
Undulating lights played across the curved black counter. Three girls with messy buns worked behind it, handing out glasses of beer and heaping containers of cheese-covered fries. The odour of grease and sweet-scented body spray floated up his nostrils. He found his acquaintance, Raya, in the back booth. Blue light from the window reflected on her dark yet flawless hazelnut skin. She had a thick afro. A pick with a raised fist as its handle stuck out of the cloud-shaped hair.
She was wearing a low-neck black shirt and tight grey jeans. Gregory thought of Adonis. The boy would look good in something like that. He had nice hips and a small waist. He blushed. Jonas had banned him from seeing Adonis for a month because sleeping with a friend had become illegal. Gregory obliged Jonas' decree because he knew that the night they had spent together had changed something between him and Adonis. Even if Gregory wanted to talk to Adonis, the boy was ignoring his texts. That left Gregory with no choice but to wait for things to cool down, but he missed his other half and felt tempted to break his promise.
Raya rose to hug him, and they sat on opposite sides of the table.
The building's ventilation system hummed as it worked to purify the air.
Raya said, "Good to see you." She grinned, showing pretty white teeth.
"You too." He removed his blazer and set it on the back of the chair. "How are you?"
Raya's brother, Aaron, had participated in the game alongside Chris. Chris and Aaron had been best friends, so Gregory knew the younger sister quite well. She was a year older than him, and the four of them had shared many meals in the past. She liked pop music and guys with long hair.
Raya bowed her head, probably reflecting on the past. After a long exhale, she said, "I've had better days."
Gregory wasn't much of a talker. Even when he was around his friends, he let them do most of the chatting. But for the sake of his brother, he needed to leave his comfort zone. He needed to become someone else. Someone social.
Raya laced her fingers together above the table. She said, "I don't understand what happened. I mean, Aaron trained for Relar his whole life. He was ready. Aaron was prepared; he was going to win, you know? A month in and he was fifth in the overall rankings, Chris was slightly below him but close enough. To get taken out by a tsunami—something that we have developed warning systems for—I don't know how the game's moderators didn't pick up on something like that."
"Something feels rotten," Gregory agreed. "I get the feeling it wasn't an accident."
Raya continued, "Exactly. There was the situation with my brother and yours going on air to say that the government should make rape and murder illegal in Relar. No matter how I look at it, the game's admins were trying to shut them up. Relar Corp is not going to admit it, but I bet those guys get a lot of money from kids murdering each other.
"People eat that shit up. It excites them to see blood, gore, swords, and shit. For kids to say, 'we don't want that anymore', it fucking terrifies them. Fidel's people probably want to kill the movement before it becomes something more significant and affects sales. That's why our brothers are now terrorists. The thing they died for has been discredited by their "plan" to kill the president."
Gregory kept his voice low in case someone listened in and said, "That's why I suggested we—you, me, and some of the other kids who lost their siblings should enter the games and top the leaderboard once we turn sixteen. The top ten players get to meet President L and Fidel; we could ideally take one of them out."
Raya rolled her eyes, uninterested. "The first issue with that is that girls are only allowed to enter Relar if they participate alongside a male guardian; it's hard for girls to get selected for the games. Its easier to pick boys, hence the ratio of boys to girls is usually 10:1. And the girls that do make it look like white barbie dolls. They don't even play the game; they focus on seducing guys in the hopes of landing a talented husband. I have no problem with girls like that; they can do whatever they need to do to survive, but I do not want to be some guy's token." Before Gregory could comment, Raya held up a hand to silence him. "As for killing L, the president is not all powerful. The Lanc family is a tool for someone else; that is my gut feeling. Our president does whatever his rich supporters ask of him. You take him out, they replace him with someone else."
"Then what do you think we should do?" His palms itched; he was already getting anxious about working with someone else. He liked to do things by himself. He liked being in control.
Raya crossed her arms over her breasts and leaned back against the red cushions. She said, "The current government restricts woman's rights. Rights that we fought for for over two hundred years. Rights that we would have had if it weren't for the Lanc family, and their supporters. We need a revolution. We need a new government that supports women's rights and the rights of all people. We need to be the leaders of a new era."
Gregory liked the idea, but said, "We don't have the numbers."
"Not now. But in the future."
Gregory talked with his hands, using each to represent a different thought process. "There is the realist and the dreamer. The realist knows their limits. The dreamer thinks whatever they dream can happen. I'm a realist, and I'll tell you now people don't want change; people are not going to risk what they have now to give power to lower-class residents."
Raya narrowed her eyes in anger and said, "Revolutions have shaped our country. What our people wanted, they fought for. Yes, the first few times they are knocked back, but if they keep pushing and people join them, there is nothing they can't do. Our current government cares...." She paused and looked over her shoulder, hoping no government spies were listening. If they were, the two of them would be reprimanded by some police officers, and their parents would be told of the children's plan to overthrow the government. It would be a messy situation. Raya bit her lip then spoke in a soft voice, "They don't care about us. They care about money. I'm going to start gathering people. You can kill the president, but I promise you, it won't change anything. It's the system that needs to change." She stood; her eyes filled with passion, turned and left.
Gregory sighed. The chatter around them was loud enough to drown out their conversations. And the two of them were dressed inconspicuously in simple garments; he didn't think he had gotten on any government personnel's radar. He wore a black leather jacket to block the wind, a white shirt and jeans. His long hair tended to attract attention, but other than that, he didn't think anyone would find him suspicious. But if they were going to do this, they would have to be more careful in the future. For his brother. For Adonis. Their country needed a change. More value needed to be placed on individual lives and security.
He pulled on his jacket and chased after her, pushing through the crowd that had gathered in front of the counter and getting cursed at in response. He mumbled apologies and got through the front door after some struggle. She was waiting by the roadside for a taxi; he grabbed her wrist. When she turned to him, anger flashed across her face at first, then recognition. "What?" she asked; all the softness gone from her voice.
"I'm in," he said. "How can I help?"
She smiled at him. "I'll contact you with the details later."
***