Vending Machine Lunch (20 page)

“And now
Copland has its spare parts factory. Elision City. It’s just one
massive vending machine, and hell, the majority of the few
survivors now see it as lunch. Union didn’t win the war. Copland
did. If Union, Copland’s creators had no chance, what chance did we
have?”

There was a
silence as James was mentally catching up with the brief history on
how his father ruined the land.

“How do you
know all of this?” he asked, after a large pause, “How do you know
that this... Copland machine tricked you into making Deimos and
Phobos?”

His father
shifted uncomfortably, “As you can imagine, I’ve had a lot of time
to investigate things. It seems we didn’t just unknowingly pull the
trigger whilst the weapon was aimed at our head, but we were also
helped to pull the trigger. After finally accepting that we had
lost the war, I began trying to find out how it had happened. I
assumed it was our own fault, my poor and obnoxious leadership, the
public were always protesting, the neo-terrorists blowing stuff up.
One phrase kept on cropping up throughout history. ‘The
Ninety-Nine.’ And guess when this phrase first began...”

“When Copland
first began being as advisor to Union’s council?”

“Exactly,” said
his father, “With more research in old records of press and
conspiracy files I discovered that some of the public had heard of
the Ninety-Nine as well, many thinking it to be our secret Enforcer
unit. I never set up such a thing, and after a quick browse of the
House of Speakers minutes, I found that such a thing was never set
up, but occasionally referred to. Unfortunately, because of the way
I organised the House of Speakers, there was a lot of bias to my
ideas. I thought it would be a great way to get stuff passed
quickly without the red tape and all that boring nonsense.

“Unfortunately,
the system ended up overlooking certain critical issues, becoming
rather out of touch with reality. We missed the fact that the
Ninety-Nine were not a secret Enforcer unit, but a secret Security
Unit from Union. I’m assuming, Ninety-Nine members, I don’t know.
They infiltrated Elision, manipulating and influencing our course
towards defeat. All it took was a member to get involved with
managing the Deimos facility to prematurely cause the facility to
melt-down.

“We weren't
stabbed by Union. We ran into Union’s knife without even knowing
it. By the time we realised, we were already dead. I have read the
Ninety-Nine’s files, they were hidden in our system. Didn’t take
long to find, it’s just that nobody had looked before.”

Another silence
followed.

“So basically,
it’s all your fault?”

“Yeah. I’m
sorry. I was too controlling that it got to the point where we were
on a different level of reality.”

“That isn’t
going to fix the land. I’m sorry, but your clone plan has failed.
There is nothing I can do,” said James, feeling the heavy weight of
despair on his head, “I... I can’t do this. I don’t know where to
begin. My citizens are all dead and will attempt to feast on me the
moment I step foot out of this place. I have no resources and no
experience because you’ve kept me in the dark all my life. You’re
mad.”

A beep came
from one of the CRTs. Six thirty.

“One more
question,” said James, after a moments silence, “What inspired you
to have ultimate control? What inspired you to become so obsessed
with keeping control of things that you even refused to let death
take Elision away from you?”

His father
turned around away from him, as though thinking. The air sucker
pumping in and out as the last of the orange sunlight bounced off
his masked face, his old mind searching for the one memory that
still made his circuits cringe.

I'd Love To Stay and Chat, But I'd Rather Have
Type Two Diabetes

He came to bring the
God-damn pain. He strode through the door, like a boss, wielding
the gun around. At first Jeremy didn’t believe it. He thought it
was some sort of joke. He thought he was just having a laugh,
waving around what could be at most, a fancy cigarette lighter. In
a split second he realised he was wrong. Oh so incredibly wrong.
More wrong than St. Wrong on St. Wrong’s Day Tuesday. The glimpse
of anger in his eyes stabbed him in every pressure point; Jeremy
was stuck, not able to drag his eyes away from the seething hatred
that was projected from his. Nought but a split second had passed.
No-one had even any chance to react.

The barrel came
level to Jeremy's forehead, a small gap from point blank. Someone
said something of utter confusion behind him. It may have been
Jenny. Who knows? Who cares? Jevaun had a gun Jeremy's face. All he
could do was keep his cool.

“Everyone! Get
back to the walls!” he hissed, gesticulating with the weapon. A few
of them started shuffling backwards unconvincingly, “Now!”

“Do as he
says,” Jeremy spat, swallowing a lifetimes worth of nerves. They
began to move back. Things no one really cared about were
muttered.

“Silence!” he
instructed, glaring around, the gun back level with Jeremy’s
forehead. Jeremy's brains were working overtime, trying to find a
solution. He knew there was none, but it insisted on searching
anyway, flicking through archives of old memories that he had
forgotten about previously. All useless. Never had a gun in his
face before.

“Mobile phones!
Throw them at my feet! Now!” ordered Jevaun, “I want to see six
mobiles at my feet. Don’t even attempt to call anyone, I will shoot
anyone who does! Understood?”

A rush through
jacket and jeans pockets confirmed that people understood.

“Jade, do as he
says,” Jeremy said, glaring at her as he sacrificed his phone
before Jevaun.

“It’s in my
bag,” she replied, stammering slightly, “Over there.”

“Well get it
out of your bleeding bag and put it on the pile!” snarled Jevaun,
gesticulating with his weapon again.

Jade walked
carefully to her bag, Jevaun’s angry eyes mentally breaking her
every step of the way. She bent down and hurriedly rummaged through
it, desperately trying to find her device. Her phone was ripped out
of her bag, sending several womanly handbag items sliding on the
floor. She placed her phone gently on the pile and then returned to
her place back at the wall.

You could have
cut the silence with a knife. No-one dared breathe. Jeremy had seen
guns in movies. He had even played with toy ones as a child.
However, nothing comes close to the real thing. It was so… metal.
So heavy in Jevaun’s hand. It made a heavy imprint in the room
unlike the plasticy ones he toyed with as a child. It shined. It
gleamed proudly in his hand. You could tell this was no toy. It was
the real thing.

With one foul
stamp, Jevaun brought his foot crashing down on the phones below
his feet. Heavy steel toes met the array of emergency number
callers with force. Some shattered to pieces, however, some of the
more expensive ones held their own. He twisted his foot on the
pieces just to be sure them he had broken were broken.

Mesmerised by
the anger in his eyes still, Jeremy mentally tried to pull himself
together. He was on the verge of being shot by a total loon, and
unless he played the few cards he had remaining right, he'd be
screwed. Despite his relaxed appearance, his head was screaming
with panic; he couldn’t think straight. Jevaun had a gun in his
face, it was there, for real, and he could pull the trigger at any
time. Knowing him, it would be at the least expected time as
well.

Jeremy took a
deep breath. He felt his forehead getting hot. He was beginning to
sweat. Forcing his mind to stop racing, he took another long, slow,
laborious breath and said as coldly as possible, “Why am I still
alive then?”

Jevaun didn’t
reply. Jeremy narrowed his eyes. He had to either make out that he
didn’t have the guts to shoot him, to get the upper hand, or let
his mind cave his nerves in, resulting in his death.

“Huh?” he
huh’ed a little louder, “Well? You want to kill me! So come on!
Give it your best try.”

There was a
silence, the hatred in Jevaun’s eyes not faltering, not giving away
what he was really feeling about what Jeremy had said. Was ‘try’
the best word Jeremy could have used? Maybe he could have used
‘shot’. Jeremy mentally shook his head. Of course ‘try’ was better
than ‘shot’. It implied that it would be a challenge for him to do
it. It implied that he didn’t think he would do it. ‘Shot’ would
invoked inappropriate humour. Hours, years could have passed, them
both standing there like the north and south going Zax, both in
refusal to move, both wanting to win. The difference being that it
was possibly a little easier for him to get Jeremy out of his way,
and the time that had passed was minutes at most.

He finally
spoke. “What do you mean?” he snarled, attempting to imply that
Jeremy was just babbling and that he was keeping him for some final
moments of entertainment for himself.

But Jeremy
could see right through him. His eyes seemed to have softened a
little in the time they stood. It hadn’t been his expression that
changed. His eyes had begun to water slightly. Only slightly. But
enough to make Jeremy realise he could possibly have the upper hand
on the situation despite the circumstances. There was a slight
possibility, that he wouldn’t do it. Very slight. Minute. But
enough for Jeremy to continue. However Jade got there before
him.

“Please Jevaun,
don’t do it,” Jeremy cursed silently as she pleaded. Pleading was
just the ego boost Jevaun needed. It made him feel more in control
of the situation. It confirmed to him that he was the one in power,
and that the weapon he was holding was in his full control. The
room was his oyster and the people inside were meaningless amoebas.
Especially the one in front of him. Jeremy.

“We’ll do
anything just don’t shoot,” Jade continued. A smirk appeared on
Jevaun’s face. He was beginning to enjoy this.

Like dominos,
the rest of the girls also started trying to reason with
Jevaun.

“Listen
Jevaun,” said Jenny in a slightly panicky version of her reassuring
voice, “Whatever it is, it can be sorted out. Just put the gun down
and let’s talk about this. Is this really what you want? To take
someone’s life and spend the rest of your life in prison?”

Eliza began
crying. Janet next to her hugged her like a child does with a teddy
bear when they’ve just been told off and sent to bed early by their
parents.

“You can get
help to sort this out,” continued Jenny, really thinking she was
getting somewhere, thinking she was getting through to him,
“Whatever it is, help is at hand. Just put the gun down and we can
talk.”

Jevaun let out
a small breathy laugh, “Yeah right,” he snapped, “You don’t know
anything. Tip of the iceberg love, tip of the iceberg.”

“Look at me
Jevaun, we can solve this. Just put the gun down,” Jenny
continued.

“Please do it,”
muttered Jade.

Eliza tried to
say something, but was too caught up in tears to say it in a way
anyone could understand.

Jenny went on,
“We all feel down from time to time-“

“Down?” snapped
Jevaun. She had just touched a nerve, “Down?! You don’t know the
meaning of the word, so shut up!” before she knew it, the gun was
pointing at her.

“Okay okay
okay!” Jenny’s voice went higher and higher like the beginning of
an air raid siren, “All I’m saying is-“

“Yes?”

“…is..” Jenny
was beginning to break down.

A metallic
click was heard as Jevaun readjusted his grip on his weapon.

“…is…” she
caved, “Oh God, please don’t kill me! Please oh God!” she collapsed
down, sat on the floor, she began crying into her hands, muttering
pleas throughout.

“Don’t shoot
her!” said Jade, tears also welling up into her eyes.

“Don’t shoot
anyone,” said Janet, looking at Jevaun fearfully.

There was a
tear filled silence. All eyes were on the gun, which was still
pointed at Jenny. Again, years could have passed for all Jeremy
knew. The situation was rapidly breaking down, the girls were
giving Jevaun the attention that he wanted. If it continued like
this, everyone would be shot. He had to take action. Now.

Now.

Jeremy mentally
beat himself. Why had he lost his nerve all of a sudden? The gun
wasn’t even in his face but in… Jenny’s. He couldn’t, just couldn’t
let him shoot her. The guilt would last a life time and there’d
still be enough left to fill an ocean after he died. This was his
problem and if anyone was to get shot, it was himself. None of the
girls had done anything to deserve this. A bead of sweat was
forming at the top of Jeremy's head, about an inch to the right. He
felt it seeping out of his pours, desperate to gain the weight and
momentum to go tumbling down his forehead and face. He couldn’t let
him see how he was really feeling. No chance. And as mentioned
before, he had to take action. Now.

“Shoot
him.”

The voice
hadn’t been Jeremy's, but Eliza’s. Her words were cruel, twisted
and fear filled. All eyes turned to her, slouched on the wall,
protected in a layer of Janet’s hands, which suddenly dropped. Her
face was covered in tear tracks. She was shivering slightly. She
looked a total wreck.

“What?” said
both Jade and Janet practically in unison. Eliza didn’t reply.

“You want me to
shoot him?” sneered Jevaun, the gun now back in Jeremy's face. He
was grinning at Eliza who had begun crying again, “Yeah? Why not
now?”

“No!” screamed
Juno, the only one left not to speak thought the ordeal, “Please
don’t.”

“Eliza! That
was an awful thing to think!” said someone. Jeremy thought it was
Jenny.

“Shoot him,”
said Eliza again, “This is not my problem. I am not- not- not going
to die because some moron upset another moron.”