Another day.
I rise early with the sun. Stretching, I can see life clicking gently into gear as the day starts to wake. One more day in a line of many others. Oddly enough it was morning time that often brought my life into perspective. There is something about the start of a new day like thousands upon thousands before never changing and never ending that heightened my melancholy. Maybe I resisted the regime simply to give my life purpose. What is the point of living forever if you just follow the herd day in day out for eternity. I have been searching for a meaning to life since the beginning, but to no avail. I don't think life has some greater meaning or significance. We are simple beings in this planet for an insignificant amount of time all desperate to lay our mark on history, on the world that we much search for a deeper meaning to it all. The ultimate question. But there is no answer. You will not one day wake up and discover what it is all for. I have been around long enough to see the desperation in an old man's eyes as he wishes he'd done more, as he fears he will be forgotten and it will be as if he never existed. But I am not dying. I have not been dying for as long as I can remember. I have no desperation to be remembered. My name has been scrubbed from all record by The Consortium; I was not born, I do not live and I won't die. Sometimes it is my greatest weapon; that I do not exist.
I was captured. A long time ago now. I was kept in an underground facility in the central building of The Consortium. Everything is run out of that building and in the basement is where the prisoners are kept. Some are just locked away in cells deep underground left to be forgotten. Others are used for research. They don't know yet what makes us immortal. And they made a surprising discovery; most immortals can die. Legend has it that the original immortals were exactly that; they couldn't die no matter what the injury. But that couldn't last. Disagreements couldn't be settled; they warred for eternity. Maybe the war is still raging in some parts. Who knows what became of them; if they ever existed at all. But immortals were scarce and so they assimilated with the humans in order to carry on and so the immortality was diluted across the years and so now immortal children have a normal infancy but once they reach a certain age they stop aging and remain that way until they are killed or taken by disease. The less immortal blood running in their veins the older they are when they stop aging. Eventually the immortal race will die out.
Except for me. I'm different.
My father, as best I can remember before his life was taken by The Consortium, was an immortal. My mother was a witch. I say was, I don't know if she is alive or not, she fled with the other witches into exile, leaving me to my fate. I am not a witch, but for some reason, even I cannot know, I can heal. Myself and others alike. When I am around illness leaves, cuts heals, ailments cease. I was of special interest for The Consortium, I still am. But they couldn't easily keep me. After all what weapon could threaten me?
Sunday, 10 October 2010
Thursday, 30 September 2010
Chapter Two
I haven't seen another person for weeks.
I have to venture into the centre to steal what food I need but mostly I stay out in hills in and out of the caves. This area is not populated. All the people live in the centre in state provided housing. Like battery chickens.
Going into the centre is always dangerous. That's where all the agents of The Constabulary are. On every street corner. Every citizen would turn you over to The Consortium given half a chance. So I go under the cover of darkness. The Guidelines set a curfew for the citizens; the streets are deserted at night. Only the occasional watchmen patrolling the streets to avoid.
Tonight was going to be another forage in the centre. If all went to plan I would have enough food to last for another couple of weeks. I always move on after a visit to the centre. It is the most dangerous time in my existence just after I return. The people hunting me are revitalised by a sighting and they search more instensely. The more proof I give them I'm not dead the harder they search. So I pack up my camp before I leave and store it nearby. When I return I can pick it up on the way to finding a new camp. This way I don't have to risk dismantling my camp with officers of The Constabulary hot on my tail. I don't always get caught, more often they don't even notice me, but it always pays to have precautions.
My camp is all packed up now. Everything I take with me is light, portable and doesn't take up much room. Sometimes I have to move fast and I can't have heavy equipment weighing me down. I don't own much. I have a blanket to sleep on; if it rains I find a cave, I have a change of clothes, a knife, a tin can, some wire and rope. It doesn't sound much but I survive.
I stashed the bag behind a rock well covered by foliage and carried on towards the centre. Darkness stretched out in front of me pierced only by occasional street light. My target was a nearby general store. These types of establishments had flourished under The Consortium a utilitarian enterprise with only the staple foods supplied. But then luxuries had become hugely scarce and the ordinary citizen just couldn't afford to part with that many stamps in order to get them. This meant my diet, along with every other citizen, was bland. But it also meant that everything I wanted would be in one shop, one place to hit rather than several reduced the risk of being caught.
Looking down the street, my pulse quickened, this was the most dangerous part of my journey into the centre. In the quiet residential streets of the outskirts I may as well have carried a sign saying fugitive. If anyone saw me I would be caught easily. But then the curfew played into my hands again. The citizens were all in bed, sound asleep because The Consortium told them they should be. I knew a general store would be ahead and on the right. I was lucky tonight, there was one close by. Some nights I had to walk for hours before reaching a store. I slowed my pace as I reached the corner, pressing myself into the shadows I peered around the building hoping to catch sight of any potential threat before they saw me. Again, the luck was with me, not a soul in sight. Cautiously, I ventured forward, keeping myself calm but alert, I stopped outside the general store. Stealing from The Consortium is surprisingly simple. The technology exists for it to be impossible but they don't implement it in general stores. None of the citizens steal so all they need is to know that something has been stolen to know that a fugitive has been. Then they can follow the trail up to the mountains; after all there is nowhere in the centre they could hide. The only security they have is a surveillance camera in the corner and even that is mostly used to remind the citizens that there's always someone watching. Turning the handle, I found the door unlocked, as I often did, and walked in. By habit I shielded my face from the camera; although inevitably they knew someone had robbed the store I didn't need them to know it was me. I unfolded my large canvas bag and went to work filling it with all the food I would need for the next couple of weeks. I moved quickly round the store; I knew where everything would be and exactly what I wanted. I had been eating the same way for 18 years and I had developed a routine, a set menu I guess. Food under The Consortium was about subsistence not taste.
A noise. Upstairs. Someone was awake. Had they heard me? I froze on the spot. Hardly breathing, I waited. No sound followed. I was safe.
My heart raced as I zipped up the bag and left the store. Outside the air was cold, I could see my breath escape from my mouth hanging in the air. I pulled my coarse woollen coat around my body and braced against the swirling wind. The harsh climate of winter had persisted for too long seemingly stuck in a cycle passing from autumn and back again with no new life. Maybe The Consortium banned the sun as well, shut it out behind the walls to prevent the citizens from feeling the happiness of it's rays on their faces. But that was silly, it had been this way for longer than The Consortium had been in control. I remember the stern warnings of smart looking people announcing the approaching doom of endless winters but I'd never taken any notice. I just took for granted what I'd had and assumed it would always be this way.
It didn't look like the alarm had been raised, no sounds of motors filled my ears. So I walked back through the streets contemplating the lives they must lead behind those metal shutters and steel doors. Each house the same, uniform, cold. Into the outskirts I quickened my pace, I just wanted to get on the move, find somewhere safe to spend the night and fall into a deep sleep. I passed the last of the houses and relaxed a little. I had survived.
I picked up my pack from behind the rock and set off west towards a rocky outcrop that overlooked the entire land. It was one of my favourite places to stay and I'd been back there many times. I think if I ever decided to settle in one place it would be there. There was shelter from the elements, a shield against the wind, rain and sleet where I could build a good fire and lay down a dry blanket to sleep.
Looking out accross the land it is to believe what is going on just below the surface. The citizens live each day in mindless obedience never questioning, never thinking. Like robots.
I have to venture into the centre to steal what food I need but mostly I stay out in hills in and out of the caves. This area is not populated. All the people live in the centre in state provided housing. Like battery chickens.
Going into the centre is always dangerous. That's where all the agents of The Constabulary are. On every street corner. Every citizen would turn you over to The Consortium given half a chance. So I go under the cover of darkness. The Guidelines set a curfew for the citizens; the streets are deserted at night. Only the occasional watchmen patrolling the streets to avoid.
Tonight was going to be another forage in the centre. If all went to plan I would have enough food to last for another couple of weeks. I always move on after a visit to the centre. It is the most dangerous time in my existence just after I return. The people hunting me are revitalised by a sighting and they search more instensely. The more proof I give them I'm not dead the harder they search. So I pack up my camp before I leave and store it nearby. When I return I can pick it up on the way to finding a new camp. This way I don't have to risk dismantling my camp with officers of The Constabulary hot on my tail. I don't always get caught, more often they don't even notice me, but it always pays to have precautions.
My camp is all packed up now. Everything I take with me is light, portable and doesn't take up much room. Sometimes I have to move fast and I can't have heavy equipment weighing me down. I don't own much. I have a blanket to sleep on; if it rains I find a cave, I have a change of clothes, a knife, a tin can, some wire and rope. It doesn't sound much but I survive.
I stashed the bag behind a rock well covered by foliage and carried on towards the centre. Darkness stretched out in front of me pierced only by occasional street light. My target was a nearby general store. These types of establishments had flourished under The Consortium a utilitarian enterprise with only the staple foods supplied. But then luxuries had become hugely scarce and the ordinary citizen just couldn't afford to part with that many stamps in order to get them. This meant my diet, along with every other citizen, was bland. But it also meant that everything I wanted would be in one shop, one place to hit rather than several reduced the risk of being caught.
Looking down the street, my pulse quickened, this was the most dangerous part of my journey into the centre. In the quiet residential streets of the outskirts I may as well have carried a sign saying fugitive. If anyone saw me I would be caught easily. But then the curfew played into my hands again. The citizens were all in bed, sound asleep because The Consortium told them they should be. I knew a general store would be ahead and on the right. I was lucky tonight, there was one close by. Some nights I had to walk for hours before reaching a store. I slowed my pace as I reached the corner, pressing myself into the shadows I peered around the building hoping to catch sight of any potential threat before they saw me. Again, the luck was with me, not a soul in sight. Cautiously, I ventured forward, keeping myself calm but alert, I stopped outside the general store. Stealing from The Consortium is surprisingly simple. The technology exists for it to be impossible but they don't implement it in general stores. None of the citizens steal so all they need is to know that something has been stolen to know that a fugitive has been. Then they can follow the trail up to the mountains; after all there is nowhere in the centre they could hide. The only security they have is a surveillance camera in the corner and even that is mostly used to remind the citizens that there's always someone watching. Turning the handle, I found the door unlocked, as I often did, and walked in. By habit I shielded my face from the camera; although inevitably they knew someone had robbed the store I didn't need them to know it was me. I unfolded my large canvas bag and went to work filling it with all the food I would need for the next couple of weeks. I moved quickly round the store; I knew where everything would be and exactly what I wanted. I had been eating the same way for 18 years and I had developed a routine, a set menu I guess. Food under The Consortium was about subsistence not taste.
A noise. Upstairs. Someone was awake. Had they heard me? I froze on the spot. Hardly breathing, I waited. No sound followed. I was safe.
My heart raced as I zipped up the bag and left the store. Outside the air was cold, I could see my breath escape from my mouth hanging in the air. I pulled my coarse woollen coat around my body and braced against the swirling wind. The harsh climate of winter had persisted for too long seemingly stuck in a cycle passing from autumn and back again with no new life. Maybe The Consortium banned the sun as well, shut it out behind the walls to prevent the citizens from feeling the happiness of it's rays on their faces. But that was silly, it had been this way for longer than The Consortium had been in control. I remember the stern warnings of smart looking people announcing the approaching doom of endless winters but I'd never taken any notice. I just took for granted what I'd had and assumed it would always be this way.
It didn't look like the alarm had been raised, no sounds of motors filled my ears. So I walked back through the streets contemplating the lives they must lead behind those metal shutters and steel doors. Each house the same, uniform, cold. Into the outskirts I quickened my pace, I just wanted to get on the move, find somewhere safe to spend the night and fall into a deep sleep. I passed the last of the houses and relaxed a little. I had survived.
I picked up my pack from behind the rock and set off west towards a rocky outcrop that overlooked the entire land. It was one of my favourite places to stay and I'd been back there many times. I think if I ever decided to settle in one place it would be there. There was shelter from the elements, a shield against the wind, rain and sleet where I could build a good fire and lay down a dry blanket to sleep.
Looking out accross the land it is to believe what is going on just below the surface. The citizens live each day in mindless obedience never questioning, never thinking. Like robots.
Wednesday, 29 September 2010
Chapter One
My name is Sabian. I am immortal. And I am being hunted.
I have been living this way for 18 years; running from The Consortium. I guess you would call me a nomad, I'm forced to move my camp constantly to avoid detection. I prefer to think of myself as a traveller. The Consortium would call me a fugitive. My name is on the list; I am a member of The Hunted. There aren't many left now, there are only so many places you can hide from The Consortium and one by one they have captured or executed every member of The Resistance I can remember.
It didn't used to be this way. Before The Consortium things were different. It requires a long memory to reminisce about life before The Consortium, they have been around in some shape or form for fifty years or more. I don't remember exactly when they started although I really should. At first they were just a collection of businesses joining together to lobby the government on issues particular to their industry. As they grew they encountered more success and influence. More businesses from different industries joined forces eager to reap the rewards availble to the cojoined. They called themselves at first The Union, then The Cooperative before finally settling on The Consortium. As they grew in size so too grew their influence. The government had to lisen to their advice, at first, and then their demand or risk losing everything they controlled. A board was elected, like in many companies, to direct and manage The Consortium headed by The Chairman. He is an old man, that is for sure, he still has the job. The Chairman always had the ear of the leaders, whispering his demands for them to follow. This became laborious and too demanding as clever leaders found ways to disobey so The Consortium sent puppet leaders for election. And of course they won. Who would vote against The Consortium when they controlled your job, your food, your house, your water... What then, they argued, was the point of an independent government when it was essentially just a subsiduary of The Consortium. So now we have it The Consortium control everything and The Chairman controls The Consortium.
But this was a long time ago. They just gradually took over everything so people barely noticed, and their rules became more and more stringent until every aspect of life was covered by The Guidelines. I couldn't understand why people just accepted it. Maybe it was fear of reprieval or maybe it was just easier to accept and adjust than to fight and risk everything. So most people are now members of The Acceptance. They live their lives as hopeless drones of The Consortium it does not even occurr to them to question their dictats. Their lives are grey.
The Resistance were the only sane people I ever met. There were many and yet there were few. There would never be enough to defeat The Consortium. But that was not what we tried to do. We lived outside The Consortium and The Guidelines. We protected each other from detection and punishment. We were a set of people, of all different kinds, who knew that The Consortium were dangerous and didn't like the road we were going down. We made a stand.
We were more than outnumbered. We were outsmarted and outwitted. And then it began.
Eighteen years ago The Consortium began The Purge. Everyone had always known of the existence of immortals, witches and such living amongst the humans. Some people had always been uneasy about us preferring not to acknowledge their existence. Something about the supernatural scares humans, maybe it is the reminder of their own mortality. Or maybe there are just naturally afraid of anything different to themselves. Either way it wasn't hard for The Consortium to persuade the proletariat that we were a danger. They portrayed us as wild beasts rabid and unsafe. The said we lurked amongst the people, shady and suspicious never identifying ourselves. There was something in the fact we were different that enraged them. So different that they couldn't accept us. I think it's because we are immortal and it reminds them of their own mortality. There's nothing more they fear than their own death.
Now there is no resistance. Only acceptance. I live in the hills of this land constantly moving to avoid capture. I keep the walls in sight at all times so that I know that I am as far from the centre as possible and so as far from The Consortium as possible. One day I'd like to cross those walls, to see what life is like on the other side. For as long as I can remember, even before The Consortium, this land was encased in twenty foot high walls. On the other side, freedom.
I have been living this way for 18 years; running from The Consortium. I guess you would call me a nomad, I'm forced to move my camp constantly to avoid detection. I prefer to think of myself as a traveller. The Consortium would call me a fugitive. My name is on the list; I am a member of The Hunted. There aren't many left now, there are only so many places you can hide from The Consortium and one by one they have captured or executed every member of The Resistance I can remember.
It didn't used to be this way. Before The Consortium things were different. It requires a long memory to reminisce about life before The Consortium, they have been around in some shape or form for fifty years or more. I don't remember exactly when they started although I really should. At first they were just a collection of businesses joining together to lobby the government on issues particular to their industry. As they grew they encountered more success and influence. More businesses from different industries joined forces eager to reap the rewards availble to the cojoined. They called themselves at first The Union, then The Cooperative before finally settling on The Consortium. As they grew in size so too grew their influence. The government had to lisen to their advice, at first, and then their demand or risk losing everything they controlled. A board was elected, like in many companies, to direct and manage The Consortium headed by The Chairman. He is an old man, that is for sure, he still has the job. The Chairman always had the ear of the leaders, whispering his demands for them to follow. This became laborious and too demanding as clever leaders found ways to disobey so The Consortium sent puppet leaders for election. And of course they won. Who would vote against The Consortium when they controlled your job, your food, your house, your water... What then, they argued, was the point of an independent government when it was essentially just a subsiduary of The Consortium. So now we have it The Consortium control everything and The Chairman controls The Consortium.
But this was a long time ago. They just gradually took over everything so people barely noticed, and their rules became more and more stringent until every aspect of life was covered by The Guidelines. I couldn't understand why people just accepted it. Maybe it was fear of reprieval or maybe it was just easier to accept and adjust than to fight and risk everything. So most people are now members of The Acceptance. They live their lives as hopeless drones of The Consortium it does not even occurr to them to question their dictats. Their lives are grey.
The Resistance were the only sane people I ever met. There were many and yet there were few. There would never be enough to defeat The Consortium. But that was not what we tried to do. We lived outside The Consortium and The Guidelines. We protected each other from detection and punishment. We were a set of people, of all different kinds, who knew that The Consortium were dangerous and didn't like the road we were going down. We made a stand.
We were more than outnumbered. We were outsmarted and outwitted. And then it began.
Eighteen years ago The Consortium began The Purge. Everyone had always known of the existence of immortals, witches and such living amongst the humans. Some people had always been uneasy about us preferring not to acknowledge their existence. Something about the supernatural scares humans, maybe it is the reminder of their own mortality. Or maybe there are just naturally afraid of anything different to themselves. Either way it wasn't hard for The Consortium to persuade the proletariat that we were a danger. They portrayed us as wild beasts rabid and unsafe. The said we lurked amongst the people, shady and suspicious never identifying ourselves. There was something in the fact we were different that enraged them. So different that they couldn't accept us. I think it's because we are immortal and it reminds them of their own mortality. There's nothing more they fear than their own death.
Now there is no resistance. Only acceptance. I live in the hills of this land constantly moving to avoid capture. I keep the walls in sight at all times so that I know that I am as far from the centre as possible and so as far from The Consortium as possible. One day I'd like to cross those walls, to see what life is like on the other side. For as long as I can remember, even before The Consortium, this land was encased in twenty foot high walls. On the other side, freedom.
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