Beaver2416 (Reviler's Affray) (2 page)

This is the home of the
Abstersion
.

This was the place where only a par-deca ago, the mass executions were carried out, and hundreds of thousands of innocents were herded like cattle and murdered. In each case, it was for what the ruling Academy cited as
crimes against man
. But Beaver and Timmy always knew it was the same cause their parents died for--a perpetual martyrdom for someone named Jesus. It is said that the field is still stained red, from the blood of the multitude and on a dark night if you listen hard enough, you can still hear the cries.

In the former time, the crumbing arena was a place of sport--
football
they called it. However, today it is off-limits to everyone except
Elites
, or in other words--upper Academy members. It is said that the only reason they do not tear it down, with its unkempt and crumbling façade; is because it is a constant reminder of death to all who defy the Great Master. As well as a trophy of arrogance and pride for the Academy.

“Heathen!” Tim said with a scowl, as he looked at the arena.

“Yes …
Heathen
.” Beaver said, with an equal derogatory tone.

This was their secret word for everything wrong in the world. They used it frequently, much like the reprobates of old used F-words and S-words. To the rest of the population, it was nothing more than a nonsensical grouping of an antiquated stupidity, a
nothingword
. But to Tim and Beaver, it was a word they both knew from their past. It was a word that they had heard frequently, in the midst of the atmosphere of the smell of coffee and the preaching of sermons. They knew it was a disgusting word--an evil word, once written towards evil people and their evil deeds. It was what they both thought of the Academy and their Great Master. It was all of their hidden feelings, their inner desire, and their hatred towards their unrepentant captors.

“
HEATHEN
!” they shouted in unison.

The patrons on the transport didn’t even flinch or look in their direction. No one, not even the Academy Elites knew what their hidden word actually meant. If they ever did, most undoubtedly; they would be destroyed like those poor souls, found languishing during the Abstersion. After their outburst of hatred, the two sat in quiet solitude as they left the area. It was a kind of
moment of silence
for the fallen that they ceremonially performed each day.

Soon, the transport locomoted over the hill leading away from the stadium, crossed several bridges, and slowly descended into Stowelowly. This was a wretched section of New Judah known far and wide for its disease and its ghettos. Seemingly destitute mothers and their children could be seen, malnourished and dressed in rags, lining each and every decaying corridor. The equally vagrant men spent each day, trying to peddle their blighted wares to the passing transports and catering to the perverse, would-be tourists; looking for prostitutes, contraband, or ancient drugs. On certain days, everyone would migrate to the center of the area to further carry out their brand of commerce. This was because, in the center there was an old covered railroad station, they used for what was called the
Bazaar.

The entire prefecture was named accordingly by the Academy, based upon an ancient, crumbling paper book at the Archive of fact; about slaves and life among the lowly. The book was severely incomplete with only a few pages that were capable of surviving digitization, and a badly worn cover consisting only of the two legible words
Stowe
and
lowly
. What the Academy Elites could digest from the incomplete text of the book, with its somber theme and wretchedness; sounded much like the place called Humbletown. So upon a whim, they changed the name of the prefecture in ceremonial fashion from
Humbletown
to
Stowelowly
, in honor of the surviving words on the book’s cover.

Truly, like the slaves of the Nineteenth century Americans; the people who dwell in Stowelowly were held with invisible chains, isolated, and made unable to leave. This is because their presence in any other part of New Judah, was deemed
against the Edict
. If they left, it would call for their immediate eradication.  How this could be is, each one had embedded into their wrist, a traceable marker known as a Bio-mark. They could literally be tracked with a simple Biometric Positioning scan put forth from any roving sentry or Acad-trooper. So simply, for the wretched of New Judah--it was Stowelowly or death.

Everyone in the Academy had a Bio-mark, even Beaver and Timmy. They too could be tracked with such simple measures, however the Academy was more lenient with Selects and Elites. As long as they were in their required places at the pre-determined times, the Academy usually turned a blind eye to where they went. Primarily, Bio-marks for Selects and Elites were used for verification and commerce. However, the kind of
commerce
that slowly approached, annoyed them both greatly.

“Oh Look! Bobble is selling again!” Timmy said in a jovial tone, “You want to get off so you can get one of his tasty
gimp
pies? Ha!”

Tim slapped his friend on the back.

Beaver could only roll his eyes in dislike.

Genetically Modified Nutrition Protocol
or GMNP, one of the many failed mass experiments the Academy has tried. The product designed to be a high protein meat substitute, however still available in abundance; was nicknamed
gimp
by the Academy members. This is because, it was found that with frequent ingestion it causes paralysis and other irreversible defects. The Select members of the Academy like Tim and Beaver, along with the Elites; were never subjected to such testing and research. Mainly, these kinds of experiments were used upon the Non-Academy or
Humbles
as they were officially called. Humbles only exist because they are graciously allowed to live, and Humbles only exist in Stowelowly. Most believe, the only reason that they are tolerated and kept alive with all of their pestilent glory, is because if a pandemic of disease happened, they would become the Academy’s guinea pigs--more so than they already are.

“Bobble has pies … Tasty pies!
You want a pie
? Only a GP! How about it …
huh
?” Bobble said with his grimy hand, roughly two morrits from Timmy’s face. He was only able to do so, because the transport stopped to let off some of the Nobles. Bobble was a
bum
. There was no other word to sum him up. Both, the English and British translation of the double entendre that was Bobble, were accurate.

“No … You bum!” Tim shouted, as he pushed his hand away.

The black grime from Bobble’s clothes seemingly transported through the air and landed on Tim’s sleeve.

“See what you’ve done! It’s a good thing for you that this is Neo Leather, or else I would bop you a good one!” he huffed.

Bobble un-phased by Tim’s threat, turned his attention towards Beaver.

“Please kind sir, buy a tasty pie … only 1 GP!
Please
…
Have a heart
!” the vagrant pleaded, with his wares stuck close to Beaver’s face.

Beaver closed his greatly agitated eyes for a few ticts. His contemplated plan in that moment was; he was going to
break
Bobble’s arm and then make him
drown
in his own gimp meat pie. Luckily for Bobble, the transport started moving again before Beaver could open his eyes and strike like an extinct Cobra.

“See you tomorrow,
you bum
!” Tim once again shouted, as they pulled away. 

“
Humbles make me vomit
!” Beaver sarcastically interjected.

“
You could have been one of them too
!” Tim said, as he hit him in the arm.

The duo began laughing as the downtrodden Bobble faded in the distance.

Soon … as the transport continued down its path; the blighted venue of run-down buildings and disease, morphed into white-washed picket fences and two-story Victorian styled mansions. This was New Dresden, the utopian hamlet reserved for Elites only. It was much like the sprawling golf courses and towering million dollar houses with their tennis courts and five car garages of the former time. However, the game of golf and the smell of expensive wine was an extinct pleasure among Elites. Today, in this caste system of discriminatory totalitarianism, the true fashionable accessory that everyone craved and lusted for was
Cupric Malatitanium
.

Cupric Malatitanium, (or just Cumal as it is most commonly known), is a highly coveted compounded gemstone. It is created with two elements known as
Cuprite
and
Malachite
, rarely found at the Cuprous Oxide mine of Tom Bossley. Once harvested, these two elements are micro-finely crushed and combined with
Titanium Nitride
in a superheated mold. Then, they are slowly and gradually cooled, to the point of eventually being super-cooled with liquid Nitrogen. If it survives the process without shatter, what is left behind is a steely-tinted, red gemstone that is harder than Sapphire. And, when combined with a battery-laden, bio-interfaced
isofitting
; it can be used across large distances for many biometric-controlled properties, such as robotic telemetry and seemingly autonomous production.

In other words, without the technical jargon; (regardless of the lives lost or the labor involved) the Elites want more than anything, a
super stone
that is used to create biometrically interfaced rings. Which upon wearing, uses their own bodies’ electric current and brain activity to control any electronic or robotic power they wish at will. Imagine … controlling an entire robotic army that does your bidding alone without a single bit of programming, having the power to cause android workers to create anything seemingly with a wave of your hand, or even the power to compel the mechanized to ignore their programming, and kill anyone you wish with a single thought.

However, very few Elites have this would-be power, faceted to their hands. And still fewer, can use it somewhat effectively. But, just the prospect of power is enough to cause thousands to die in the mines each and every span. Mainly these
magic rings
are used for parlour tricks such as to open and close restricted doors, control robotic servants to dole out more synthetic liquor than they are programmed at Elitist parties, and cause lacquer-bots to spray out obscenities on public pathways for a few cheap laughs.

All except for Mercurial
… Beaver thought.

Mercurial is a gifted member of the Upper Academy, which Beaver briefly met at a party a couple of spans ago. To explain, every span the Upper Academy has a day of charity that they call
Benevolence
. It is at this time that the Select Academy members such as Beaver and Tim are allowed to enter New Dresden and mingle with the Elites. It was only two spans ago in which Beaver saw the demonstration of sheer power that these stones had. He witnessed a select Academy member who was in full-celebratory mode, accidentally spill some synth-liquor on Mercurial’s cloak. He, being infuriated left the party. The Select member followed after him, trying to apologize. Beaver, also followed after him as well, hoping to rough him up to make a good impression on Mercurial, because he was the new Academy overlord at Perpetua.

What he witnessed next made a ghastly imprinting on Beaver’s memory.

The man trying to apologize was suddenly attacked by one of the servant victual robots, crushing his skull and killing him instantly. Apart from the wretched gore he witnessed as he turned the corner into the area; Beaver still remembers the look of sheer euphoria on Mercurial’s face, as he gazed at the Cumal ring upon his hand. It was a look of pure sadistic evil.

“
Did you see that!? Did you see what I did!
?” Mercurial said with a child-like mirth looking at Beaver, as if he had won a mid-ancient spelling bee or got an A+ on a test.

Beaver could only smile with an equal pleasure in what was done, logically timid for his own life.

“
The worthless sot couldn’t hold his liquor—HA!
” Mercurial commented, making light of the situation.

“
Would you clean this up for me?
”—he glibly said, as he slapped Beaver on the shoulder.

Upon which Beaver interjected in an enthusiastic tone--“
Gladly
!”

As Mercurial walked away back to the party, tears began to stream down Beaver’s face. This was the first time that Beaver ever felt the emotion of fear. In that moment, he thought about all of those who had equally apologized to him--before he crippled them. He now knew this dreadful feeling is was what they all felt. He vowed to himself in that moment, that if possible; he would lessen his doling of punishment for the Perpetua Corporation.

“
What was that Beve
?  Oh … you’re thinking about
him
again.” Tim said, rolling his eyes in the process.