Chapter 16: Past
Monday morning came, and my encounter with Austin seemed like a dream. Or a nightmare, depending on how I thought about it. You’d think that after my experiences, knowing about a secret group trying to undermine the corruption of the justice system would reassure me.
I actually felt worse.
Instead of doubting myself or thinking I was crazy, I wanted out of the city more than ever. But what Austin was asking of me, I wasn’t sure I could pull off. Could I find the drone base when no else had?
“Are we interrupting your daydreams, Pene?” Mr. Stewart tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up and half of the class was staring at me.
“Sorry, Mr. Stewart,” I answered sincerely.
“We’ll discuss your conduct later. You have a visitor.” He motioned to the classroom door. I turned and saw my dad’s concerned face. I got up and walked towards him. Dad was pacing in the hall.
“Dad! Why are you here? Is something wrong?” I asked. He motioned me to sit on a bench next to the wall.
“This couldn’t wait. I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately. I’ve been avoiding talking to you. I’ve just been so angry that you lied to me.” I could see the pain in his face. I hugged him.
“Well, I kind of deserved it, Dad. I haven’t been very open with you lately. I’m just not happy. I feel like I’m been watched and manipulated every day. Something is wrong with our justice system.”
“That’s why I’m here now. We found something.” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “I followed up with the footage that you said was altered. I must have watched it fifty times so far.” He did listen to me. I started to get excited.
“What did you see?”
“There are some irregularities. I had one of the technicians I trust roll through the video with me from start to end. We examined lighting, audio, skin texture, anything that varied from each camera angle. What we discovered was that some of the cuts had a different time code. They weren’t filmed consecutively. The footage was spliced in, and some of the frames did not involve Lou.”
“I told you so.” I felt vindicated. “Can you get his decision reversed?”
My dad shook his head. “Even if the decision was overturned, there is no way to turn back the aging process. Lou’s sentence remains, even if he was innocent.”
“Well, that just sucks. Why was his footage changed? Are there other falsified cases?” My dad put a finger to his lips to warn me to speak quieter. As I looked around the hallway, I noticed cameras were in several places.
“I need to ask questions, but slowly and with those who I trust. I don’t know if the footage was altered from a camera technician to a supreme judge.” I immediately thought of my prime suspect.
“Lord Morall is involved. He acts like someone who enforces his own type of laws.”
“And you don’t like his red eye,” my dad countered.
“It creeps me out! I swear he’s either part drone or he’s being controlled by them.”
“Who’s them?” My dad made a face as if he thought I was crazy.
“I don’t know.” I stood up. “I just don’t think some camera technician goes around and changes footage. It takes someone in a higher position to make those decisions. And I doubt they’d do it alone.”
“A computer glitch is more likely than a city-wide conspiracy.”
“You didn’t see Lou’s face when he was accused of a crime he didn’t commit. The words spoken on the video were not his. That’s no glitch. I should know, I was there.”
“And that’s why I was so angry.” Dad’s face changed. “I’ve told you dozens of times that I don’t want you at the Marks. It’s not safe!”
“Dad, we live in the safest city in the world. I don’t understand your protectiveness.”
“Why don’t you tell her the truth, Evan?” We both turned our heads and looked at Mr. Stewart.
“This doesn’t involve you, Ben,” my dad countered as he stood up. I gaped — I didn’t even know the two of them were acquainted. Mr. Stewart began circling us.
“Why don’t you tell her what the Marks were really like before this city became safe? During the early stages of cameras and drones, before a swift and just legal system. Why don’t you tell what really happened to her mother?” Before the realization of his comment sank in, my dad had Mr. Stewart pinned against the wall, his elbow against his throat.
“Stay away from my family!” he yelled. Strong hands grabbed him from behind and pulled him off Mr. Stewart. My gym and math teacher had heard the disturbance and had stepped it to break up the fight.
“Get off me! You’re lucky I don’t press charges,” Mr. Stewart spat. “I’m sure the justice system won’t look kindly with one of their lawyers endangering the citizens they’re sworn to protect!” The other teachers pushed my dad onto the bench, where he looked defeated. I didn’t think it was Mr. Stewart that made him feel that way. He looked up.
“Stay out this, Ben. It has nothing to do with you. I have a good mind to report you to the school board for your interference. Our conversation wasn’t school business.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, there are no secrets here.” Mr. Stewart pointed to a camera at the far end of the hall. He looked at me. “How would you like to know why your dad is so afraid of the Marks?” I was mystified. How did my teacher know anything about my dad? The answer came when he dangled one of the crowns from the re-enactment from his left hand. “History has been recorded. How would you like to know the truth?”
I turned, looked into my dad’s eyes and saw the realization. Something was recorded that had made my dad fearful of the Marks, and that was why he had wanted me to keep away. I had to know, even if it drove my dad further away from me.
“I want to know,” I said and reached out for the crown.
“Pene, I did it for your own good,” my dad started to explain and reached for my arm.
“I think she’s old enough to know.” Mr. Stewart smiled, and not in a nice way. He must be taking satisfaction that either my dad or I was going to suffer. Didn’t matter either way. He walked me over to an empty office and opened the door. We both stepped in, but my dad and the other teachers stayed in the hall.
“I’ve made some adjustments to play back the recording of the day in the Marks in question,” he said.
“What day?”
“The day your dad began to hate the Marks.” It was just like in class; every answer he gave made me more confused.
“How you know my dad?”
“We’ve known each other most of our lives. We made different choices as adults but we shared some important memories.” I felt like hitting him because his answers only created more questions. But I decided it was time to learn first-hand. Or second-hand, if you wanted to be technical, since I was observing past events.
“Turn it on.”
“You’ll have twenty minutes,” he said as he placed it on my head. The interior of the office disappeared.
The sun was bright. I screened my eyes and then looked down at the ground. The area was familiar but things seemed out of place. Vendors yelled at me as I walked by, and I could smell baking bread a few stalls down. Yet the items for sale were old and clunky; one electronic device looked four times its current size. People’s clothes were out of fashion as well. I laughed at one woman who strolled by me. I could tell she thought she was wearing the cutting edge in clothes, but to me it looked hideous and horribly outdated. This was the Marks about fifteen years ago.
A guy in his mid-twenties bumped into me and almost knocked me down. “Sorry, kid,” he yelled back, and he continued on. His face startled me. He looked younger, had more hair and less worry lines, but his smile was my dad’s. I gave chase as he almost disappeared around some food vendors. He always gave me a lecture for hanging out around the Marks, but by the way he moved around he was very familiar with his surroundings.
I ducked under an awning and tried to cut into the next alleyway to catch up with him. As I came out, I looked at the end of the alley but my dad did not appear. I looked the other way but with similar results. I began to panic because I knew how easy it was to lose someone here.
“Looking for something?” a familiar voice asked.
I turned and stared into the face of a young, attractive male vendor. He was athletic, with long jet hair. Lou never looked so good. The years had not been kind to his weight or lack of hair.
“Actually, looking for someone. Did you see a guy come by a few seconds ago about this tall, short, sandy blond hair, wearing a red jacket?” I inquired.
“Hhhmmm. Maybe I did.” He playfully scratched his head in mock concentration. “Perhaps if you bought something, it might jog my memory.
Wow! Fifteen years didn’t change his salesmanship. Since my dad was nowhere in sight, I decided to play along and hope Lou had actually seen Dad. I checked my pocket — I had a credit machine with some money. Didn’t matter the year, electronic credits are good anytime.
“Okay,” I responded, “show me what you got?” His smile widened as he ushered me into his shop. It was smaller than his current one but probably just as cluttered. On the bottom shelves were the impulse buys and cheaper items. Candies and foods from outside the city — a chocolate liquor looked especially sweet. On the middle shelves, hand carvings and jewelry were laid out, made by craftspeople. A wooden mask stared out at me. I couldn’t tell if it was smiling at me or mocking me. I looked higher still to the more expensive items. Electronics seemed to be the most common items; although they may have been cutting edge then, they were way outdated now. But something caught my eye. “Can I try that?” I pointed to the top.
“Of course.” Lou smiled and handed it to me. It was a very old, clumsier version of the history crown I was wearing now. Back in the school office, I was wearing it to be immersed in this environment. You couldn’t see it or feel it on my forehead, but it was there. Even though this looked ancient, it felt weird to putting a second one on. It was heavy, and a metal brace dug into the side of my forehead. The earlier versions had some wearability issues. “I think you press this.” He tapped the side and nothing happened.
“Actually, you press the button right here.” I pointed to the metal bar and then Lou’s shop disappeared.
The old ship rocked in rough seas. Storm water was crashing over its decks and I was about to fall down from the motion of the boat. The spray hit me in the face and I tasted salt water. I looked around and the crew looked like something from an old pirate movie. They were sickly, with yellow teeth, eye patches, hooks for arms and swords strapped to their waists. A wave crashed again and a brown chest ripped open, spilling its contents onto the deck. Gold coins spilled out and a number of crew members jumped to grab the contents, stuffing what they could into their pockets. Then, to the far right, something breached the water. It was dark but I could make out a mass of arms — probably belonging to a huge octopus or squid. It fixed me with its dark eyes as if it recognized me. The eyes were sad and I felt there was a story behind its sorrow.
From the top of the vessel a ray of fire erupted from a gun on the mast at the monster. Nothing made any sense — no movie I ever watched had pirates with this type of technology. What screwed-up movie was I watching? The flash of the gun ignited the sky as flame rained down on the vessel. I looked up just a piece of the mast turned into a fireball and began to fall. Death was only seconds away.
I blinked and I was back in Lou’s stall. He was talking, and even though several minutes had passed in the crown, only seconds had passed in Lou’s reality. What was that all about? A false reality with a false reality? A crown simulation within another crown simulation. Although I’d never ask him, I’m sure Mr. Stewart could explain.
“Do you want to purchase this?” Lou rubbed his hands, greedily hoping I would buy the crown, one of his more expensive items. I shook my head and reached for the cheapest candies on the lower level. I brought out my card and allowed him to withdraw credits. If he seemed disappointed with my cheap choice, he didn’t show it. I guess a sale is a sale.
“And do you have an answer for my question?” I asked as I was exiting his stall.
“You mean did I see a tall man with short brown hair and a red jacket?”
“Yes.”
“When you asked the question, no.” I was disappointed. All of this was a waste of time. “But,” he continued, “since then, someone who matches your description walked by and is at the far end of the alley.” He pointed. I looked and my heart rose.
“Thank you Lou.” I ran off.
“But I never told you my name,” he said, confused.
I dashed around several people and then came up short when I saw my dad had stopped and was talking to another man. He was thinner, with a severe face. Mr. Stewart had changed little in fifteen years and his mannerisms were the same. But then he did something that I had never seen him do. He smiled warmly back at my dad. Not that fake smile from class, as if he was silently superior to his students, but one of actual friendship. My mouth must have gaped open because the two of them stared back me.
“What are you looking at? Shouldn’t you be in school?” the younger Mr. Stewart yelled over. My dad punched in the arm.
“Maybe she can’t get over how good-looking you are?” my dad teased, and the two of them started walking away.
Damn! How am I going to follow my dad when they’ve spotted me? Seconds later, I realized that was the least of my problems. From behind I could hear a large rumbling, like a motorcycle backfiring. I was half right. I turned and saw a bulky metal drone, a much earlier version of the one that had escorted me to Dad. Its outer shell was gun barrel gray, with so many scratches that I questioned how well it was steered. Everyone around looked and stared at it. It was different from my time; most of us had gotten so used to drones that they were background noise. This one stood out like a sore thumb. From everyone’s faces, I could tell that it was not welcome. I wish I had grown up during those times.
Its head turned slowly from side to side. It had red slits for eyes, but its beam seemed weak as it scanned the crowd.
“Go away, tin head,” someone yelled.
“Nothing to watch here,” another voice said. The drone continued on, oblivious to its welcome. It veered to the right to avoid some crates by a stall and awkwardly moved. Its back end grazed my dad’s leg. He went down hard.
“Stupid tin can,” he yelled while grasping his thigh. “Can’t you see where you going?” He seemed to regret his words almost immediately. He stood up and put weight on his leg.
Its head turned to the right and looked directly at my father and Mr. Stewart.
“Article twelve point three of penal code. City citizens must give drones at least five feet of distance to allow passage. The error is yours, citizen.” Its cold eyes stared back at my dad.
“Please — it was an accident,” Mr. Stewart said, trying to reason with it. The drone lacked expression and didn’t seem to register the apology. “I know there is a human controlling you. Don’t create an incident.”
At first I didn’t understand the comment, I was so conditioned by the artificial intelligence that controlled today’s drones. They didn’t care about you, they were just recording your movements. Drones of this time were like remote-controlled robots. Some police officer like Vaslor was controlling it from another location. Just when I thought I couldn’t hate drones any more than I did.
“Don’t let me see the two of you around here again,” the drone said. I imagined the human sneering in the background but the metallic voice carried not hint of emotion. My dad started to limp away with his arm around Mr. Stewart’s shoulder. Then a stone bounced off the drone’s back. Everyone stopped. The drone turned its head but there were dozens of people in that direction. I hadn’t seen anyone throw a stone, and with everyone motionless, I couldn’t see the instigator. The drone watched, waiting for someone to try to walk away, to give away their guilt. No one dared to move. Then the drone acted quickly, grabbing my father’s shoulder.
“Then I guess you get nominated to be the scapegoat.” My father tried to pull away but the drone’s grip was too strong. There was angry murmuring from the crowd but no one was brave enough to take responsibility for their actions. I knew what I had to do.
“I threw the rock. I accept your punishment.” They were my words but I never had a chance to speak them. The voice was familiar, and then I saw her. It was my mom. I wanted to yell at her, to hug her. Instead I stood frozen to my spot.
“No,” my dad yelled. “She’s lying. She wasn’t even here a few minutes ago.” Then he turned to my mom. “Lily — don’t do this!” My mom looked back at him confidently. She looked radiant and so young, and then I noticed something. She was carrying a small baby in her arms. It was me! I stepped backwards. It would be too weird to meet myself, even if this was just a recording of the events that occurred.
“If you receive any charges, you’ll never graduate with a law degree. I’ll be fine.” My mom stepped towards my dad as if to hand off her baby.
“Your admittance of guilt is all I need,” the drone stated, releasing my dad but grabbing my mother before she was ready. I fell from her hands and dropped to the ground.
“No!” My dad yelled. Inches before I hit the ground, Mr. Stewart’s arms grabbed me and stopped my descent. Who is this guy? How did he change so much? The crowd turned ugly in seconds. Either they didn’t like my mom’s rough handling or the accidental dropping of her baby. They no longer cared if they got in trouble. Whoever was operating the drone was about to realize his mistake because seconds later rocks flew from several directions.
“Watch out!” my dad yelled. “You’ll hit my wife!” My mom ducked but the drone’s grip was too tight. A large rock hit her right temple and blood gushed immediately from the wound. Instinctively, I ran towards her, even though the true nature of my presence would confuse her.
The air erupted with a loud screech like an air siren. Everyone dropped to their knees, including me. The sound made me feel like my head was going to split open; it hurt more than any headache I had ever had. And then it stopped. And when I looked around, there were more drones, each stationed at different exits. Suddenly the fight was out the crowd. The main drone with my mom’s limp body addressed the crowd.
“This woman will answer for your crimes.” He pointed to all of us in turn. “Disperse now or be rounded up for prison.” Before anyone could respond, the drone had latched my mom to its body and accelerated. My dad tried to stop it but he was knocked away like he weighed nothing.
“No,” he yelled, “don’t take her away. I’m the guilty one!” But the drone was gone.
“We’ll find her,” Mr. Stewart reassured my dad. “Cooler minds will prevail.” And he radiated that familiar frosty look at the departed drone.
Dad’s hatred of the Marks was starting to make sense now but created new questions. What punishment was served to my mom?