Chapter 1

Approaching the climax, Nathan’s whole body buzzed. This was what life was about. It was why seemingly sane people wrestled alligators, or skyhopped. No manufactured chemical ever produced a feeling close to this. He, like so many others, was an adrenaline junkie.

For Nathan, it wasn’t physically living on the edge which brought the excitement, extreme sports did nothing for him. His fix came through the sight of a crowd hanging on every word he uttered. He felt so alive, so in control. Like he could do anything. Building up to the main crux of the speech, the energy within him seemed to have a life of its own, he felt like he wouldn't be able to contain it much longer, like he would simply erupt, he began gesticulating to emphasise his points and give the energy an outlet. Repressing the urge to pace around the room, he concentrated instead on delivering the speech as clearly as he had in his rehearsals. He had to have their backing, without their support he could accomplish nothing, they had to follow him unquestioningly.

Pulling himself back down, just barely reigning his emotions back in, Nathan returned the speech to autopilot, freeing his conscious mind to take on the task of crowd monitoring; searching for signs of dissent. As he scanned the crowd, his gaze lingered sympathetically on the face of a crippled man. He took in the rags and worn features of this man, old before his time, nodded his respect and moved on.

Locking eyes with each of the sorriest specimens, he related to every one. Showing them he understood, drawing the crowd to him by letting them know his compassion.

After a short while, Nathan found his eyes resting on a face that was completely out of place. Standing here amongst society’s dregs was a girl with no imperfections. His eyes paused, taking in the details of her face, noting her guarded body language. It seemed unfair that people like her were so well looked after, they had none of the worries of the exiled.

“Why should some have so much, when so many have nothing?” He directed this remark in the speech at her, commenting on the atrocious situation that existed now, the situation that he attributed to the invention of transport technology. It was this that allowed the rich to leave the cities at the end of the day, condemning those that couldn’t afford the rates, to a life trapped in the polluted cities; cities polluted by those very commuters. He compared the commuters with the slave traders of old, trampling the workers, breaking their backs and wills, before heading out to their mansions. He witnessed the desired reaction in her eyes, that acknowledgement of guilt, before he continued his visual sweep of the room, making each and every person feel that his remarks were directed at them individually. His mind making mental notes of potential agitators.

Finally, Nathan reached his concluding statements, ending amidst adulation. They were with him, there was nothing quite like this feeling, knowing that he’d got the support of these few hundred men and women. This meant that finally his plans could be set into motion. The thought of it made his stomach leap; externally he barely managed to maintain his poker face. He could soon be leading an uprising that would see the end of exile, no more living this squalid existence in conditions you wouldn’t inflict on a dog.

Nathan closed and handed the microphone over to one of his people so that they could give details of the next protests and meetings. Less people would come as the events became more intense, but he knew he could rely on the usual core and Nathan was feeling confident that tonight he’d hooked at least a handful more for his cause.

As the meeting wound down, Cassandra stopped listening to the announcements and returned to her thoughts. She couldn’t quite work out what she was doing here, she just knew that something had compelled her to come and listen to this man that she’d been hearing about, that seemed to be stirring something in the city. She could see nothing particularly wrong with his speech, he demonstrated all the right passion and interest, but she was sure he wasn’t entirely what he seemed.

Glancing at her watch, Cassandra realised she must return home. Turning, she walked briskly to her car and drove the short distance to the transporter station; parking the car in her designated bay she smiled at the attendant. He barely acknowledged her, choosing instead to keep his gaze fixed on a stain on the floor. Understandable she supposed, what must it feel like to spend each day transporting people away from the place you cannot leave no matter how desperate you might be to do so? Having your nose rubbed in the reality of your poverty could hardly be the most fulfilling and uplifting way of spending each day.

Scanning her pass, Cassandra keyed in her destination and was instantaneously transported the 287 miles to her local station. From there she walked along the deserted roads to the home she shared with her father. It was so different in the living zones now that cars and in fact all pollutants had been banned except for within the city limits. Even though Cassandra had spent her whole life in this dichotomy of existence she still felt like a time-traveller when she swapped between the two zones.

Himesh let out an involuntary sigh of relief, as he saw his daughter approaching the house. He knew she was an adult, but parental feelings don’t stop the moment your offspring reach eighteen, or even twenty-one. He didn't like the idea of her roaming around the city alone, so many things could happen.

“Where’ve you been Cass? I was worried.” Himesh quizzed her.

“Honestly Dad, I’m a big girl now, I can take care of myself.” Cassandra grinned to show she didn’t really mind his excessive parenting.

“Yeah, but who’s going to take care of me as I embark down the slippery slope of senility?” Her father gently ribbed her.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that all sorted. I picked up brochures for some lovely rest homes that’ll take care of your every need.” Chuckling and walking into the kitchen she began preparing some food, whilst her father returned to his study to work on some papers that he’d brought home from the hospital.

Back in the squalid Headquarters, the crowd had mainly dispersed. Only a few of the more fervent followers remained. Relishing in the attention, Nathan was talking again, not his speech now, just his "Spontaneous" and "Natural" conversation pieces, which he'd rehearsed for just as long as the speech. Seeing Nathan as some sort of saviour, all but Joel hung off his every word. Always leave them wanting more, that was the key, so Nathan finished what he was saying and strode purposefully into the back room. Everything Nathan did was purposeful. He understood the way people’s minds worked and one factor common to all people was that they want to follow someone who knows what they’re doing. The key to having loyal followers is to always have a plan. Or at least to always appear to have a plan. Never let anyone see you appearing unsure. Always look like whatever you are doing at that moment is vitally important. Never lose purpose, never look aimless. So regardless of how he felt, Nathan walked with poise, with bearing, he talked with confidence, he never allowed anything to surprise him and never looked out of place, he could walk into a women's changing room and have the other occupants apologise for disturbing him.

Once backstage, Nathan turned his attention towards Joel. As usual Joel had spent the duration of the meeting standing a little way off from the crowd, not quite involved. He was always watching, always processing; once again he appeared somewhat pensive. Nathan was intrigued by Joel, despite his ostensibly simple nature he was in truth more complex than most people. Nathan was blessed with an ability to be able to tell a lot from people's bodylanguage, actions and speech patterns, he could usually read people’s emotions and predict what they would do, with Joel there was a lot more guesswork. Sometimes it was hard to tell where Joel’s loyalties lay. He was dedicated to the cause; there was no denying that. However, he seemed a little less than happy about some of the groups’ policies and beliefs. Still, Nathan's logic told him that, when it came down to it, as long as Joel kept in mind that they were all after the same thing, then it should be okay. Nathan wasn’t about to divulge all his greatest secrets to Joel just yet though. Yes, he could be trusted with most plans, but Joel had yet to prove that he wasn’t going to bite the hand that fed him.

Joel stared at the wall and reflected on life, he wasn’t even sure what he was doing with this outfit, it wasn’t like he bought Nathan’s spiel. He’d been here since the beginning, he knew that the most important thing to that guy was taking care of number one. If it came down to principles, he’d seen hired killers with more well-rounded consciences. All Nathan desired was to return to his old life and as a bonus to see the rich pay for exiling him.

Joel followed because that’s all he knew. He wasn’t a leader; he lacked Nathan’s brains and charm. Admittedly their attitudes differed drastically, but currently their goals meshed; Nathan wanted out of Exile. Joel wanted everyone out of exile or better conditions for those in exile. This required a shake-up to the system and that was what Nathan could provide. Without a lead figure like Nathan to rally the troops, no changes would be likely to come about. What people needed was someone to guide them, someone persuasive to tell them what to do, which was someone Joel could never be.

The fact that Nathan’s methods were not quite as ethical as he’d like did concern Joel, but he just pushed it to the back of his mind, with the thought that the end justifies the means. After all, most people weren’t like Nathan; the only crime they’d committed was to be born poor. They had done nothing, but the cards they’d been dealt had condemned them to a lower class existence in smog-filled downtown, dubbed exile, destined to a meagre 50-year life expectancy. If some of Nathan’s schemes worked, then it might draw attention to their plight and force the authorities to take notice. That was what he tried to tell himself anyway, tried to convince himself that he wasn’t just too weak to stand up and defy Nathan, that there was a greater good being served through following a guy with borderline psychoses.

Sighing, Joel pondered over just where society had lost the plot. With his level of education it wasn’t particularly easy to do and he wasn’t exactly blessed with the greatest brain in the universe. Most of what he’d learnt had come through sheer stubbornness and refusal to accept defeat. When well-meaning carers and teachers had all assured him that the best he could hope for was some kind of menial work and that he should really leave school at 15, he had strengthened his resolve, becoming more determined to make a difference. He was sure that there had to be something better than this life and that there was a way to change things for everyone. It was because of that belief that he devoured information, though it took him an age to even read one article.

Gradually Joel became aware that Nathan was watching him, he was pretty sure that Nathan didn’t trust him. Not that Nathan ever said so, that wasn’t his style. He probably even had some theory about keeping enemies closer than friends. Joel had a feeling he’d read that somewhere and it sounded like a philosophy that Nathan might follow.

Determined that he wouldn’t allow Nathan to get to him, Joel considered trying to strike up a conversation. Then he realised that making small talk was likely to give away the fact that Nathan was having an adverse effect on him. So Joel simply ignored Nathan, blocking him out and trying to concentrate on other matters. Ignoring Nathan however, was no mean feat. Nathan had a “notice-me” presence. His eyes seemed to bore into Joel’s soul like white-hot metal. Even though he refused to look directly at Nathan and struggled not to react to the knowledge that he was being watched, Joel was sure that he was giving out anxious signals. His body language must be positively screaming discomfort. Giving up the pretence, he nodded at Nathan and walked outside into the dark alley. How strange that he could find a greater sanctuary, here amongst the shadows in a rough part of town, than in a room with the leader of a faction he was aligned with.