Chapter 4

Not many of the protestors had made it back to the headquarters; most of his followers had been either hospitalised or arrested. Nathan had to be careful with his approach. He couldn’t allow people to become disillusioned, or angered at him because he’d escaped without injury. As usual he had been fully prepared for the situation arising and had ready to hand all of the appropriate remarks to keep the men firmly on his side. The incarcerated ones might be a little harder to keep on track, but taking an interest in them while they are being held would do a lot to rectify their view of him. It had definitely been worth it. The waves made by this protest had headed in the right direction. Nathan was certain that phase two of his plan would commence smoothly.

Nathan’s first port of call was at the police station, he visited each of the protestors, showing sympathy and caring for their plight, he praised their bravery and promised to work on releasing them. Nathan spent much of the morning reassuring the prisoners and convincing them that it was for the best that he had escaped, because from outside he was more able to work to free them and bring about the change they all hoped for. He moved on from the police station to the neighbouring hospital where many of his supporters lay in varying states of weakness. Again he played the part of a caring leader troubled by his people’s pain, determined to have them back on their feet and fighting against those that had put them there.

Joel feigned sleep as he heard the familiar footsteps stride into the room. He didn’t think he’d be able to cope with Nathan right now, he didn’t want to hear his speeches, he’d heard them once too often. He felt Nathan’s presence looming above him, waiting, almost as if he knew that Joel was aware of him. Forcing his muscles not to give him away, Joel remained still, finding it almost impossible to remember to breath. After an eternity had passed Joel heard the footsteps leaving, he waited several moments more, before finally opening his eyes, this time to meet the sympathetic gaze of the woman in white.

“You don’t trust him either, do you?” She asked him, her eyes looking deep into him.

“I don’t know what you mean. He’s my leader, of course I trust him.” Joel’s voice was timid, almost as if he was afraid to speak the words aloud, knowing them for the lies they were. Even as he spoke he realised he was admitting that he’d been faking sleep; giving the nurse the truth despite his attempt to cover it.

Joel was feeling restless lying in the hospital bed, he knew he was still very ill, after all hospitals released you as soon as possible these days, beds were precious and retaining one was near to impossible. He knew, he’d seen his brother turned away many times because he wasn’t quite near enough to death.

There wasn’t a lot Joel could do in his position so he asked for a notebook and pen. As a child, writing had been his outlet, he never wrote for other people, it was just for him, a way to release everything pent up inside. He never had much time to write these days, but now it seemed time was all he had, so why not get it all out, everything that was bothering him, everything he wanted to express and release, starting at the beginning.

Dear Commuters,

My name’s Joel and I’m an Outcast. I don’t know what I did to deserve this life. Many say that us Outcasts are sub-human, is that how you can sleep at night, knowing the life we are stuck with? I don’t know if you believe we like it here, maybe you think we don’t know any better, you’re wrong though, we’re not blind, or stupid. We see you Commuters, we know you don’t get as sick as us, you live longer, you eat better, but most importantly, you don’t have to live here. I’d give anything to be able to transport away like you do, but we can’t afford that, that’s why we’re Outcasts. Some of you think we’re all criminals. I can see where you’re coming from, I know a lot of us are, but who’s fault is that? You cram us together in small spaces, give us the worst jobs and little pay, of course people are going to turn to crime. Anyway, there are members of every society who commit crimes, you think you’ve got rid of crime, you think you’re better than us because you don’t have criminals there. Except that’s not entirely true now is it? You still have crime, but what do you do with your criminals? Do you deal with them there? No, you realise an existence in Exile is the perfect punishment; you acknowledge how awful it is for us here and send your criminals to live with us. So we may have our share of criminals, but then we get stuck with yours too, after you’ve confiscated all their belongings, taken away their transporter passes and dumped them here, making them likely to become a worse criminal than they were before.

You wonder why we protest, why we feel so angry, some of you even argue that you come in here to work so it can’t be that bad, but you don’t really do you? Yes you enter the zones, you go to your little offices with fresh air pumped in from the “Outer zones” the zones where you’ve banned the use of fossil fuels, where pollutants are a thing of the past, but how much time do you spend among us? In the filth we live with every day? You use your enviro-clear cars to move around our zones, an ironic name they have isn’t it? The amount of pollutants they produce, they’re one of the worst things for the environment ever, of course enviro-clear refers to the atmosphere inside the car doesn’t it? Wouldn’t want you breathing nasty fumes like we have to would we? You leave the cars when you go of course, couldn’t have them polluting the air near your homes.

So, yes, I am angry, I am tired and I have had enough. I’ve lost too many people I care about through conditions that could have been avoided. I watch the television like you do, I see the reports that we’re such a developed world now, that we’re so forward-thinking and most of all happy. Funny how the cameras never come down here when depicting the world as a Utopia isn’t it? There’s an old man lying in the bed next to me, he’ll be dead soon, it’s to be expected, he is 48 after all. How long do you guys live in your zones?

Joel stopped writing, tearing the paper from the pad he screwed it into a ball and tossed it at the bin, it bounced off the rim and onto the floor. It wasn’t going to do any good. Writing and talking wouldn’t get them anywhere. Maybe Nathan was right, drastic measures were necessary if they were to have any hope of escape.

Joel was surprised at how much the act of writing had taken out of him. It had been both a physical and emotional drain even though he’d only covered one page. He hadn’t written everything that was in his mind down either, it had just been too overwhelming, too much to cope with. His body was demanding that he rest, his eyes began to close of his own accord and soon he was in a deep sleep.

Cassandra entered the room and saw the crumpled paper lying by the side of the bin, she picked it up, meaning to throw it in the bin but felt compelled to read it, knowing she shouldn’t really be doing it, still she pocketed the paper taking it with her to the break room.

Once in the deserted break room, Cassandra carefully smoothed out the paper and began reading. The emotion with which this was written was overwhelming, she felt so drawn to the young man who had written it. She could feel his pain poured into every word, tears pricked at her eyes as once again she felt pangs of guilt at how these people were treated by a supposedly enlightened society. How could people not see how wrong this all was? Yet, what could she do? Campaigning had fallen flat on its face, people were blinkered, they just didn’t want to listen. So she did what she could by working here, taking care of the sick and injured, doing her best to make sure they had the best care available. She knew it wasn’t enough though, they were short staffed, they lacked funding and vital equipment, they had to turn people away who were in dire need of medical attention. It just wasn’t fair, but no amount of whining was going to make it any fairer.

Cassandra pulled herself together and went to return the paper to the floor where she’d found it, she was fairly certain the young man wouldn’t want to know she had read it. She would get on with her work and she would do something, if only make sure that this guy Nathan wasn’t going to create an even worse situation for the Outcasts.

Upon finishing her shift Cassandra headed to the private room she kept at the hospital for when she pulled all-nighters. Grabbing a strong coffee she settled down at her state of the art computer and began accessing files that technically she shouldn’t be able to get into.

Finally, Cassandra let out the breath that she had inadvertently been holding. On the screen were all of the details for Nathaniel William Travers. Born thirty-four years ago in an affluent suburb he had trained as a geneticist. Rapidly, he had become one of the leading scientists in his field, eclipsing many others. Until three years ago when it came to light that Travers had been using genetic material obtained without consent. He had been performing experiments using human DNA that contravened the so-called “playing God” law passed in 2021. A lengthy trial followed and Travers was sentenced to exile. Most of his estate was liquidated leaving him with a small amount of cash.

So, Nathan had been in exile for a little over two years now and was effectively raising an army. With a background like his Cassandra was worried about what he could actually do given the right supplies. She was only sorry that her suspicions seemed to have been confirmed. This once it would have been preferable to be way off course in her assessment of someone.

Read more!