Beaver2416 (Reviler's Affray) (11 page)

Who was he--to Tim?
--he thought, as the transport started up again. As Bobble moved further away, Beaver could only dismiss this casual thought.

All the way to his work-job, Beaver struggled with hidden emotion. It was usually silent to work, however not having Timmy right beside him was excruciating.

The old Arena had to bear one more casualty, didn’t it? One more log for the fire--
Beaver ravenously derived with a scowl on his face. He did so, as the transport slowly passed by the crumbling Arena. He thought as if Tim had been one of the countless souls murdered inside. Today, he hated the Academy, much more than any other day. To be a Hachiman this light, without uninhibited and unchained violence, would take every ounce of sheer determination that Beaver could muster.

Soon, the transport sounded its stop of Bona Fide, right in front of Perpetua. Beaver sighed a great sigh with rolled eyes, as he slowly stood up to exit. For the first time in his life, it was a struggle to keep his torrent of emotions in check. His sociopathic mind had to work in overtime, to keep him from uncovering his hidden feelings. Each step towards the interior of Perpetua felt like waves of acid, burning … trying to dissolve every semblance of what once was. Every nuance of a Westbrookian hachiman was seemingly being erased in a slurry of blackened, rage-filled nothingness. Beaver was losing control. His entire self was shutting down, much like a ragged android that had outlived its usefulness, and sent to be cored and melted. He grabbed his throbbing head that was in pain, ready to lash out with a primal scream of imminent death. Then, like the calmness of the morning mist, a wave of sudden stability engulfed him.

Tim’s Artifact
…

This was the one unseen factor. Somehow, just the thought of its existence brought a sense of firmness to his instability. Whatever it was, it gave him a Raison d'être--
a reason for existence
. In that moment, the item behind the Lev-basin suddenly caused a yearning in Beaver’s heart. He wanted to know what it was and what it could do, more than anything. It needed him, and he needed it. His entire being was suddenly affixed upon the artifact, as if they shared a blood kinship that had spanned the centuries.  With a renewed sense of normalcy he once again set aside his insanity, and found the inner means to walk inside the massive halls of Perpetua. 

Almost immediately as he crossed the entrance threshold, he was met with stares and whispers from the idle Elites, lingering in the pathway. Each talebearer made Beaver increasingly sickened as he slowly trotted towards his office. His logical fear began to crescendo, as he thought about what might happen. It was obvious that everyone knew about what occurred last dark.
How much
was the unknown element of consideration. As Beaver walked, his mind surged with flashes of the Catholic Parliament.

Are they going to take me at work?
He pondered with uneasiness.

Each whisper and glassy stare as he walked towards his office, caused him an increasing twinge of dread to overwhelm him. His fears reached its apex as he crossed into his office. He expected at any time for his side door to open, and the sight of sentries and dunners to overtake him.

His heart seemingly stopped as he peered upon his used Lev-throne. Someone was sitting in the back-turned seat, waiting as if to pounce. The Lev-throne quickly spun around, revealing its hidden stranger.

It was Mercurial!

He was dressed in his full regalia and seemed quite perturbed.

Beaver could only stand motionless, trying to stifle his fright of staring face to face with the Perpetua Overlord himself.

“I heard about your little
non-conformity
last dark…” he said with a smug candor.

He was visibly disgusted by his less than upper-class surroundings.

“We knew that your
little friend
was
always
merely one step away from infusion. He was
not
an Academy faithful
at all
…” Mercurial said, standing and dusting himself off. “We only let him exist for
your
sake, Beaver2416 … you were
always
so gloomy and needed a counterpart. He was chosen because he was a victim of those
filthy kidnappers
that you had the misfortune to be enjoined with. I think that you will do
alright,
alone from now on …
right?
” he said with an inquisitive look.

Beaver’s sociopathy suddenly reinstated itself.

“
He was against the Edict … he deserved to die
.” Beaver said with a puffed-up chest.

“
The Edict-- oh, yes … yes.
” Mercurial said, seemingly preoccupied with other things.

“He was only a
mirage
of my past.
I will be just fine
. I have the G.M. as my best friend.
I need no one else
—
SdotG
!” Beaver bellowed with arrogant pride.

He projected as if he was personally offended by Timmy2845’s would-be treasonous act.

“
Good … good--your faithfulness will be rewarded. I will personally see to it.”
Mercurial said, standing to greet him with an outstretched hand.

As Beaver mutually accepted his handshake, he looked down and again noticed the Cumal ring on his hand. A shockwave of fear lit up his spine as he rapidly thought about its power. Mercurial released his grip and lightly patted him on his shoulder. Beaver was still in partial shock, as Mercurial walked away towards his posh surroundings.

He didn’t know!?--
He thought.

His mind flooded with the idea that perhaps no one, not even Mercurial knew about what sat in darkness behind the Lev-basin. Just then, his thought process was put on hold as the progscreen in his office illuminated.

The sect-bot awoke and stood with its arms raised in salute. Oddly, it didn’t animate upon his entry, as every other time. He thought hard that Mercurial’s Cumal ring had something to do with it, as he reluctantly stood to attention.

“Good light, my faithful subjects.” The G.M. said with his usual stale opening. As he railed on, Beaver again thought about what had happened.

Could they really have NOT known about what James had stolen?
--This one thought persisted throughout his light address.  Soon, his speech was over and the hum of machines filled the atmosphere. “
SdotG
” the two said in unison, as always. In daily perpetuation, he then grabbed his ambient plugs off the small Lev-desk, and rested them on his ears. Next, he opened the drawer and put on his plat-armoring and grabbed the concussive force rod, hanging on the wall.

“I’ll See you later …” Beaver loudly said to the sect-bot, walking through the side door.

“Good bye, Beaver2416 …” the sect-bot replied, as it again went back to its slumber.  

Throughout the day, he was enthralled in his work. It was the only thing that kept him and his emotions and thoughts in check. As long as he stood by with vigilance, looking for every single iota of disobedience, he could not revert to a pool of cerebral captivity. He used the
bat
as he called it, much more today than any other. People were going to work, because Beaver could not afford to abandon his mental shoring. To let go at this point could mean a loss of everything that James, his family, and the rest of the Church once stood for. He was the last of their kind. And, if his end meant that he was going to be indisolved, he wanted more than anything to go out with a blazing ball of fire, rather than a spark.

Suddenly, a loud warble could be heard throughout the manufacturing floor. It was closing time. With all of the Force rod strikes and tosses into the screen, Beaver had greatly lost track of time. This sound could not be heard in the office by design, because it shocked and scared too many of the frail Elites. With a heaving gait and a few deep breaths, Beaver went through the side door into his office to take off all his gear.

“No messages--Beaver2416” the sect-bot sounded. Beaver could barely hear its call because his ambient plugs were still in place.

He quickly took them off and said “Thank you.”

Again, he put away his armoring and force rod and left Perpetua with haste.

Outside as usual, there was a massive crowd, bustling to get on each passing transport. This time he decided to force his way through, instead of waiting. Like a mid-ancient bulldozer, he shoved his way through the crowd and took his place on a nearby transport. He, no longer had any reason to wait. He wanted to be rude for a change for Timmy’s sake. Timmy was always spouting out non-understanded rudeness to almost everyone. This time he thought
why not?
when he saw the crowd. His emotional pathway was now filled with sour bitterness and cynicism. Frankly, Beaver did not care anymore. His only shred of concern was now focused upon the hidden shelf, behind the Lev-basin. At this point, he merely hoped that Tim’s mystery was nothing more than a bomb, which could blow up himself and everyone around it.

The ride home was excruciating to Beaver. It seemed to him much slower than ever before. As he could now catch a glimpse of Stowelowly before him; suddenly he remembered Bobble’s brief reaction to his icy stare concerning Tim.
Could he have known Timmy before?
Beaver mused with hard examination. Oddly enough, he actually hoped to see him peddling his wares on the way home, so he could discretely question him. Or, at least get a passing confirmation that somehow he knew Timmy in a personal way. Sadly, Bobble and all of his grime was nowhere to be found. This was a very strange occurrence. Bobble was
always
standing there, in all of his pestilent glory, trying to snag a few GP’s from each passerby. This missing
bum
with all his filth and annoyance; was another cause for uneasiness in Beaver’s wearied mind.
Was he involved? Did he get infused?
These questions swirled inside his head, much like a mid-ancient carnival fair ride.

His unwanted whirl abruptly came to a stop as the transport ascended into New Dresden. Just the sight of all the haughty Elites and their pompous sprawl, gave Beaver a new sense of clarity.

Synth-liquor in every hand … greed and avarice … murder and power…

Regardless of whatever the cost was, the Academy had to be stopped. James was dead …
nothing was ever going to change that
. However, Beaver2416 now wanted to
live
. He found a mentality of retribution, not only his former friends and family; but to see the destruction of the Academy. His thoughts suddenly changed from ones of fear and contemplation to that of tactical analysis. He could not wait till the next decision day. This was perhaps because for the first time in his life since the bunker, this was going to be
his
day. His heart leaped with the inner thoughts that somehow his dusty cryptogram could destroy the Great Master and all his followers in a swirling vortex of fire. This one thought consumed Beaver more than any other.

As the transport finally came to a halt in Westbrook, Beaver held a grin upon his face. The mere thoughts of ridding himself of, or obliterating his captors make him feel good inside. The final screech sounded, telling everyone to leave. Beaver stood to his feet and began to walk down the lighted pathway with a renewed stability. He knew now that he could make it alone. His mind was completely at ease with the entire situation. He was determined to do whatever that needed to be done to bring down the stronghold surrounding him. Now more than ever, he was thoroughly convinced that whatever waited in silence behind the Lev-basin had the power to destroy the entire Academy.
It had to
… or else everything that James, the bunker, and their family ever stood and died for was
all in vain
.

Chapter 8:

As the Lev-basin did its usual every light ritual, all Beaver could do is stare incessantly at Timmy’s artifact, nestled in the dusty corner.
Just one more day
-- he thought with a sigh. All of the other days had seemingly flown by. Ever since that first light of intense emotion had ceased, Beaver was filled with confidence and serenity. “
If they were going to get me … they already would have
.” He continually said to himself. “Sanitation is complete” the basin squawked as it once again retreated. Beaver walked into the hallway and yelled out a resounding “
Yes!
” before the robot could speak.

“
Good … I’m not deaf!
” The bad ceil-bot interjected, and then retracted into the ceiling. Beaver had to restrain himself from laughing out loud. 

He was seemingly giddy, because
one more day
gave him a hope that something in his wretched life could be done for an actual good to others. After his morning rituals, he walked up the hallway towards his droll bowl of Granfibrous. He felt as if tomorrow was his life’s destiny. His mind was entranced with the wistful aspirations that everything he had been through; all of the death and torture, all of misery and slavery, were but mere stepping stones that led him down a sadistic promenade towards next light. He knew that tomorrow,
everything
was going to change.

As he sat studying the craquelure of his bowl and its bland contents, he suddenly had a hidden thought. It was a misplaced memory of his father.

“
Robert!
” Beaver exclaimed out loud without forethought. He suddenly remembered that his father’s name was Robert! He also remembered that he frequently stood behind a crude wooden stand that held a large book. He was saying something repeatedly, as he shook his fist. With all his might Beaver tried, but couldn’t make out what it was. It seemed surreal, like a euphoric intoxication of shapes and colors. He quickly pondered that maybe this mirage of the past was a
warning
or a
sign
. But sadly, there was nothing that he could find in it to be considered.

“
Who is Robert?
” The victual android demanded, slapping its mechanized arm upon the counter. Beaver rapidly awoke from his daydreaming.

“
Rob … Robert!? No, I … I said ROBUST! Your food is always robust
!” he snorted in a hurried panic. Viki paused and tilted its mechanized head from side to side, because it was thinking.

After a few ticts, it then spoke, “
That is agreeable, Sir
.” It then spun around to its work station, and returned to its daily prep work. 

Again, Beaver could hardly contain himself from laughing out loud.

This time Beaver had completely finished before the anthem played. With the Enlighted One flickering now before him, he lifted his arms into the air. Beaver did this long before the G.M. was even done speaking. Today, he really didn’t care how much Acad-protocol was thrown at him. Beaver kept telling himself that tomorrow was going to be the
beginning of the end for the Great Master.
He had encouraged himself throughout these few days, to the point that he truly believed that his
hidden treasure
was going to bring down the entire world of the Academy. This hopeful encouragement of a wistful dream was all that he had left to hold on to.

“
SdotG
” the duo said as the progscreen finally faded. Since the address was now over and he had already finished eating, Beaver ran with all his might toward the entryway. He bounded high in the air, quickly descending several steps away.

“
Let’s get this over with
…” He said to himself, as he arose from the pathway below.

He quickly spun around in habitual routine, looking for James. Normally, he would be waiting in the pathway, aggravated as always.

“
Tim …
” he vocalized with a downcast tonality. Beaver’s heart suddenly sank, realizing the finality of his friend’s death. He then thought with intensity, about the
name
that he had just mentioned. In that moment, Beaver decided to never again refer to him as Tim, Timmy, or Timmy2845. Those were the shameful, slave brands of Academy-owned property. He was no longer bound with the hardships and pangs of indentured servitude for a cruel master.

As he began walking, Beaver all of a sudden mused about something on display at the Archive of Fact. There was a small display of someone, known simply as
MLK.
(
What these initials meant, the Academy powers could never figure out
) This figurehead of the former time, was depicted speaking to a massive crowd of oddly-dressed people. What was left of this man’s speech, was a badly-worn holo-converted clip of about 7 ticts in length. What he said made Beaver overwhelmed with emotion as he contemplated it—

“…
will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, Free at last! free at last! ….”

James Matthews was a
free man,
and the Academy could never take away his emancipation
ever again
. That small presentation suggested to him, there was a time long ago when people were oppressed like they are today. Perhaps, they too had a Great Master or corporate deity that controlled them. But to see such a multitude standing together and speaking words of freedom, made him feel there was hope for tomorrow. He imagined that in his infusion and disappearance from this world of chains, his friend was suddenly transported through time to stand in that massive crowd. He could see James holding a sign stating “free at last” with a beaming smile across his face. Beaver had to fight back his tears of joy and sorrow, as he pushed and shoved onto an idle transport.

He took his seat and he was once again lost in his thoughts. He imagined a new world. A place without screens or Androids or rigor. A place where someone with a dream and the ambition to achieve could create their heart’s desire. Not with force or hatred, but with hard work and deeds of goodness. Of course, because not everyone would share the dreams; there would also have to be those who were commissioned to protect them. They would be put in place to keep these dreams safe from them who would do harm. These guardians would also have to be loyal to the dreamers … and the dreamers loyal to the guardians.

Perhaps, there once was a time like this
—Beaver thought.
Maybe their downfall was they stopped dreaming? … or they stopped protecting? … or they forgot their loyalty and goodness?
—he continued. These ideas swam throughout his sociopathic brain as the transport warbled slowly, ever closer to the doors of his workjob.

Soon … the daily reciprocity of riding the crowded transport was over, and Beaver was back on the job at Perpetua. Upon sight of the place, he shoved all of his transport musings into a mental box and once again became a Hachiman. The floor was steady with activity, as it always was before decision day. Everyone had a certain quota that had to be met by the end of the production. If they did not, they would face imminent torture tomorrow, while everyone else was resting. On these days, Beaver usually did not have to
crack the whip
at all. Because of this, it made for a very dull, boring time.  Beaver always believed--
A day without a toss was not a real day.
As he stood idly by, waiting for any nuance of non-conformity; he thought again about the vision he had at lightfast of his father.
Could it actually mean something?--
he thought in retrospect. Having an unplaced thought of such magnitude one light before the most important Decision day of his miserable life, seemed almost like an epiphany.  Or at least, what Beaver thought that an epiphany was supposed to feel like.

As he contemplated the past, his ambient plugs suddenly vibrated.

“
Beaver2416-- please report to the Alcove.”
The message interjected in his ears.

His heart seemingly stopped beating.

THEY KNOW!
--He violently thought, as his eyes were found at the point of almost

falling out of his head. He suddenly felt the emotion of raw fear, just like he did with Mercurial.
But … but … they would have already got me …
his sociopathy rebutted in a seemingly mental debate. Round and round it tossed and swirled, until the side of reason prevailed.

Maybe … Maybe, it’s nothing … just procedures.
He thought in consolation, as

his eyes returned to normalcy and his fearfulness left him. With a great exhale, Beaver then left the floor through his side office door.

The Alcove was the Elite break room. Not that they needed such a place, as they seemingly were always on
break
. It was mainly a meet up place for wayward Elites to sneak another gulp of synth-liquor or deal the latest drug. Sometimes however, it was a place for office-wide meetings. Usually, these meetings were warnings or new regulations. And sometimes they were proclamations from on high. When Beaver entered and saw the small crowd of office Elites, he knew that this one was of no exception. As everyone settled and took a seat; Mercurial suddenly appeared from a side entrance. Beaver felt a sudden uneasiness as he looked upon his face.

Mercurial was far from happy.

“… As of late, it has come to my attention that we have had several breaches of security and even
theft
of official Academy particulars and information.
THIS MUST STOP
! We must keep vigilance for the sake of our
blessed
Great Master and our way of life!” Mercurial bellowed furiously, with a shaken fist pointed towards the crowd. As he railed on, Beaver sat motionless; still thinking about next light and Tim’s legacy. Then, Mercurial said something that made him physically sick—

“Just a few darks ago, as many of you know … Beaver2416,
one of our very own
; was attacked in his own home, by someone
once
hailed as
friend
!”

The crowd jeered as many of them looked at Beaver in consolation.

“This villain of the lowest kind … once known as Timmy2845,
hated
the Academy and plotted against
us
and our Great Master; as he daily worked among us in the Archive of Fact!
He took us all for FOOLS
, and was indisolved for his
TREASON
!
WE MUST WATCH ALL WITH DILLIGENCE! WE MUST NOT GROW SOFT ON INSUBORDINATES! … FOR THE EDICT
!!!” Mercurial shouted from the top of his lungs.

Everyone, including Beaver stood to their feet and chanted the same with their hands raised in salute, “
FOR THE EDICT! SdotG! SdotG! …
”

As the crowd went wild with praise and worship of the G.M., Beaver noticed that Mercurial was looking straight at him. In a flash of time, everything suggested to Beaver as if it had frozen in place, as Mercurial winked at him. Beaver nodded in salutation, still with a sickness in his stomach. Mercurial then buffeted his hands in a downward motion, to quiet everyone once again. After a few moments of silent clarity, with everyone returned to their seating; Mercurial spoke yet again--

“
Beaver2416, please stand …
”

Beaver slowly stood, looking all around him, waiting for the piercing blow of a dunner to consume him.

“I would like to personally thank Beaver2416 on behalf of Perpetua and our
blessed
Great Master, for his part in alerting Academy foot troops to this
dastardly scoundrel
and his thwarted, would-be acts of terrorism …
Thank you
.” Mercurial said, clapping his hands.

The crowd furiously clapped their hands, as well as gave Beaver back slaps and nudges of praise. He did not know what had happened, but his sociopathy compelled him to play along. He smiled and waved to the crowd like a consummate professional. However, his mind was a torrent of swelling emotion. Obviously, this was a
blatant lie
for the sake of the Academy. For
what purpose
, was the unknown factor that made Beaver feel like breaking down in a panicked demonstration of sheer carelessness.

Are they only covering themselves or do they know
!? Beaver hurriedly screamed in his mind.
Will I live another day?
--This thought almost made him pass out in the floor.

Suddenly, the friendly call of
you are dismissed
squalled throughout the office and break room. It was much more easy-toned than what bellowed on the production floor, because many of the frail Elites would jump in fright otherwise. As usual, everyone immediately rushed towards the exits. As the people left, Beaver could still feel nudges and slaps on the shoulder from the various Elites. He smiled at them as they passed in approval; even though he stood there motionless, still lethargic from his thoughts. He could not fully process what had happen. Beaver began to take deep breaths trying to return to normalcy.