New Reality 2: Justice (18 page)

An image of a train carriage filled the screen. Marie was standing directly in the middle of it. Although she opened her mouth, she couldn't find the words. She should have told him sooner, and his face said exactly that when he looked at her.
 

"What the fuck? What's happening, Marie?"

The loud and obnoxious Hank Manifesto blared through the speakers, cutting off her reply. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen; Hank Manifesto reporting for
Nirvana TV
. We have breaking news! Police apprehended a terrorist today on the commuter train."

A wobble ran through Marie as she watched; she could feel Frankie's stare burning into the side of her face.
 

The woman with the scraped back, blonde ponytail filled the screen. It was hardly a surprise that she was in on the action. With her hands clamped to her cheeks, she looked like a parody of shock as she said, "Oh my god; it was awful. Our lives were in danger."

When they returned to the footage inside the carriage, Marie had disappeared.
 

"Where did you go?"

Where did she go?
Marie took a heavy gulp. "I
should
be there. I was standing closer to the boy than everyone else. He wasn't a terrorist; he was just a kid from the estate. I moved back with the other commuters so they didn't turn on me, but I didn't move all the way into their pack. I
should
be on the screen."

Unable to take her eyes from the footage, Marie listened to Frankie sigh. "So they cut you out because you made the boy look less scary?"

"It appears that way."

"Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

"I didn't want to stress you out."

The rest of the footage played out in silence. "They've muted it on purpose, Frankie. The boy told us he was trying to get to work. If he didn't get there on time, he was going to be fired. He had a baby back home to feed."

Before Frankie could respond, the heavily made-up face of the peroxide lady filled the large screen again. "He said he was going to
kill
us all." Tears glazed her eyes. "He said he was taking us all to hell with him. He said he had a
bomb
." As she fanned her face with her hand, she looked skywards as if to stop herself from crying.

Marie's heart rate sped and a hot flush tore through her as she clenched her fists. "What a lying bitch! She
was goading him. She called him an estate rat."

When Frankie didn't reply, Marie looked over at him. His shoulders were slumped as he sat and stared at the screen. He then shook his head. "That's all you are when you live on the estate—a rat, nothing more."

Before Marie could turn away from the beating that was about to happen, the footage stopped.
Thank god for that
.

Hank Manifesto's orange head popped up again. "Fortunately Nirvana's finest managed to apprehend him and get him off the train. No one was hurt."

It took all of her restraint to stop from throwing her plate at the screen. "No one was hurt? They beat the fuck out of him. I doubt he made it off the platform alive. His only crime was riding the fucking train."

"That's all it takes when you're someone from the estate. Why do you think I'm so scared to end up there again?"

"You're talking to me like I don't get it, Frankie. I can see what it's like. I'm not actively choosing for us to end up on the estate. I'm not…" She stopped there.
What could she say? 'I'm not pretending I want to fuck Doug for the good of my health'.
Her voice dropped to a near whisper. "I'm not an idiot, Frankie."

Chapter Twenty-Nine

It was Marie who arrived at the cafe first the second time around. She went straight from work and thought that maybe GG held back so it didn't look obvious. Every journey on public transport would be registered to their personal travel card. Two colleagues from the control room going to the same destination was a coincidence. Two colleagues from the control room going to the same destination at the same time would be suspicious.

The booth they'd met in last time was free, so Marie sat in that one. Hopefully, it would help GG work out it was her a lot more easily. Not wanting to be in plain sight, Marie left her leg across the entranceway to the booth. The last thing she needed was someone like Kitty Trollope recognising her. How would that awkward conversation go?
 

'So what are you doing here, Marty?'

'Um, I'm stopping for coffee…,' awkward silence… 'alone.'
 

'Alone? Why?'

Marie shook her head to derail the internal conversation. It was bad enough when Kitty was in front of her; the last thing she wanted was to invite the bitch into her mind. Besides, it’s best not go down that rabbit hole. There are enough things to worry about as it is. It was fine; no one would see her, and GG would work out which booth she was in.

As she waited, a line of sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades and Marie shivered. The August heat was looking like it was going to be worse than July. Could she cope with another insanely hot month and wear a corset for the entire time?

After wiping sweat from her brow, Marie discretely sniffed her own armpits. With GG always smelling amazing, the last thing she wanted was to reek like an old gym shoe. Fortunately, all she could smell was the faintest hint of detergent from her clothes.

The waiting sent one of Marie's legs bouncing on the spot and she tapped her thighs with her hands. The digital clock on the wall said it was only five twenty-five. There were still five more minutes until the agreed upon time.

What must have been the tenth look at the door in the past five minutes and Marie still couldn't see GG. Should she just order now? Would that make her look less suspicious? Why didn't she bring something with her to read? That would have looked normal. A good book and a coffee made sense. Staring at the walls as she hugged a hot mug on her own, however, was a bit weird.

The tablet in the middle of the table called to her so Marie lifted it up. They had tablets everywhere in Nirvana, provided to the city for free by The Daily Mail. It was a cheap tabloid rag whose platform was one of hate and was the number one news site in all of Nirvana. Its popularity seemed to have a lot to do with its proliferation and little to do with journalistic integrity. It formed the ill-educated opinions of Nirvana's citizens, spreading bigoted, twisted, and hate-filled news at every opportunity. It served the agenda of whichever extreme right wing party wanted to spread the most fear that week. Frankie often said that if you drowned people in enough shit, they'd eventually stop noticing its stink. If the drivel put out by The Mail was anything to go by, then he was correct.

The tablet was heavier than the ones she was used to reading on. It was also dented around the outside. It had seen a lot of use and was only a year or two old.
 

One tap and the device came to life with a brilliant glow. The bright light stung Marie's eyes, so she turned the backlight down. How did people even read off that screen?

Marie's heart skipped when she saw the very first image that dominated most of the screen. It was common for The Mail to fill their articles with pictures and not many words—it appealed to their readers. The picture was of the boy from the train the previous day. It had been edited like the video; Marie was nowhere to be seen.

After skimming the article, Marie rolled her eyes. It was all about ‘estate rats and the threat they posed to society and good, hardworking families’ and how they were ‘the rot that ran through the city's veins’. The mixed metaphor was usual fair for The Mail.
 

In the bottom right-hand corner, was a picture of the blonde woman with the tight ponytail. A crack on the screen ran straight across her face. The image was a link to a video of her interview.
 

It was only when her brow started to ache that Marie realised just how much she was scowling at it.
 

A shake of her head and Marie swiped the screen to bring up the next page. A quiet swoosh added something tangible to the action.
 

The main photo was of one of the blocks on the estate. The picture had clearly undergone some serious editing—it made the estate look clean and desirable; it almost looked like somewhere people could live. The headline was printed all in capitals.

IMMIGRANT MOTHER OF SEVENTEEN GETS ENTIRE FLOOR OF TOWER BLOCK

As Marie read the story, her pulse quickened and her body temperature rose again. Every paragraph was littered with phrases like 'government handouts' and 'expecting a free meal ticket'. At the bottom, there was a link to an old article titled ‘Sterilising the Poor’. What was wrong with these people? Was eugenics making a comeback? Marie swiped across to the next report.

Swoosh!

The next picture was of a mother with four young children around her. It was an action shot, and the children were clearly arranged to look as feral as possible… almost like they were feeding on her still-living flesh. How much knowledge had the mother had of the paper's intentions when they took that photo?

FOUR BASTARD CHILDREN! HOW MANY IS ENOUGH?

On further reading, it was clear that all of the children had the same father who ran his own business and they didn't take a penny from the state. They'd made a choice not to get married, but other than that, they were functioning citizens of Nirvana. They didn't even live on the estate, but it was unlikely that many Mail readers would care enough to study the article; the headline was enough to force-feed them an opinion.

The baby moved, but Marie resisted the urge to reach down and hold her stomach.
 

When Marie lifted her head, she jumped upon seeing GG standing in the entranceway to the booth. She covered her pounding heart and half-laughed. "How long have you been there?"

With a broad smile, GG shrugged, stepped in, and pressed the button that closed the door behind her.

Whoosh!

When she slid onto the leather sofa, the seat creaked softly beneath her delicate movement, and the booth was suddenly filled with the sweet smell of flowers.

GG nodded at the tablet in Marie's hand. "Why are you reading that trash? It's bad enough with the news reports."

Marie placed the tablet back on the table. "I got here early and wanted something to do. Although, I wish I hadn't now. It's utter garbage." She lifted the menu, ordered a decaf coffee, and passed the menu to GG.
 

Once she'd finished with her order, GG reached across and turned the tablet face down on the wooden table. She then wiped her hand as if to remove some kind of stink. "It's such a hateful news site. They're on a permanent wind up. Every article's a provocation that feeds into the bullshit of this godforsaken city. The worst thing is, people believe it and then base their vote on it."

Watching GG's face redden, Marie smiled at her.
 

"What?"

As Marie pulled her long hair into a ponytail, she laughed. "This is why I got a good feeling about you when I first saw you. I knew we were going to get on, even before we spoke. I knew I could trust you."

The seat creaked again as GG leaned back into it. "Sorry, I just get so irked by the injustice of it all."

After a few seconds, Marie said, "Oh, before I forget." She reached into her top pocket and fished the credit card from it. "I need to give this back to you."

Despite Marie holding it out to her, GG didn't take it.

"Frankie won't like the idea of charity. He says he'd rather work two jobs than take money from strangers."

"I didn't give Frankie the money, darling."

"But I feel like I'm lying to him if I take it and don't tell him."

"I understand. I'll tell you what—you hold onto it, and if you still haven't used it in a year, give it back to me. But please remember, I don't want it back, so if you need to spend it, do. If you don't, I'll give it to charity."

A wave of emotion rushed forwards as Marie put the card back into her pocket. Her voice cracked when she said, "Thank you."

"Consider it a gift to the baby. If it needs anything, then you don't have to worry."

The table then opened up and Marie's drink appeared in the centre of it. When she pulled it towards her, a small amount of the dark liquid spilled over the rim onto the white saucer. When the strong smell of coffee found Marie's nostrils, her mouth watered. "How do you like working in the control room, GG?"

"I don't," GG said. "It's bullshit and I'm not comfortable with some of the stuff being done to the prisoners."

"Me either. Did you see Doug terminate the guy I'd been watching the other week?"

"Yeah. He made such a show of doing it. Arsehole."

The liquid was still steaming in the mug, but Marie raised it to her mouth and took the smallest sip anyway. The hot and bitter coffee scalded her lips, making her eyes water. Marie put the mug back down. "I'd watched him for weeks. His name was Jake. He was a good man. He was just lost. Our shitty system failed him, and he ended up in a waking nightmare. I left it as long as possible, but I felt like I needed to tell Doug."

"You did all you could. I had two terminations in my first few weeks, and it messed me up. I hated it. I cried myself to sleep each night. Doug was the same with me; he laughed about it until he found another prisoner to terminate."

"If people found out what goes on in that room…"

"But they won't, will they?" GG said. "That secrecy contract has us bound tighter than a Christmas ham."

The screen mounted in the booth sprung to life at exactly the same time GG's skinny latte rose up through the centre of the table.
 

"Hank Manifesto, Nirvana TV."

"Urgh," GG said, "that man needs to be terminated."

"Breaking news, ladies and gentlemen. We have footage from a raid earlier today. After the terrorist attack on the train yesterday, police got a lead on others in the gang."

The footage on the screen flashed to a helmet-cam and was similar to many before it. The police entered the narrow walkways in the estate, kicked a few doors in and then beat the shit out of the people they found behind them. The television's speakers came alive with a cacophony of crunches and screams. A spray of blood covered the camera's lens until it was wiped away with a clumsy hand and left a red smear through which the rest of the footage was viewed.