Beaver2416 (Reviler's Affray) (10 page)

A crack, a crevasse, a hole … somewhere!
--Beaver deliriously thought, scanning this clumsy autonomy for a glimmer of hope of salvation.

The would-be hero again rammed into the uncomfortable stool.

“
Sorry Beet…
” it said as it scurried as usual, in the opposite direction.

Beaver could only close his eyes and tremble with uneasiness.

Sadly, upon his observation there was nothing that he could use.

I’M RUNNING OUT OF TIME!--
Beaver yelled in his mind.

These last few moments before slumber had to hold some form of solace, or he knew he would die like Timmy. Beaver deeply exhaled knowing what he needed to do next. In keeping with the routine patterns, it was now time that he got up from the stool, and sat in the Lev-seat. The progscreen illuminated and the wave holgraphia machine began to spin as normal. The nightly report began pandering with its usual hokey form of dullness. Beaver could not sit comfortably, nor pay attention to the programme as he surveyed the walls and the suspended shelvers for any trace of concealing virtue.

Sadly, there was none to be found.

The Weath-girl eventually appeared to give the bright index and weather report, however to Beaver this was not a cause for pleasantry. It was another moment lost; a moment that ticted closer and closer to Beaver’s destruction.  He had to get rid of this item seemingly of the macabre. Being discovered with it only meant death. This mysterious item Beaver now cherished more than his own life; and it was the one thing that held the power to take his life from him.

“Now back to you, Timore18…” the Weath-girl said in a positive tone, as the sightglas shifted.

The commentator stood up from his Lev-desk to perform his cheesy trademarked signoff.

“Good dark to you all! And remember, all you cats and kittens out there… Strength, Discipline, Order … SdotG!” Timore18 said, ending with a motion like swinging a golf club.

Beaver could only envision his fantasy projectile, piercing his own head.

Unless a phenomenon of the ages would suddenly ensue, it was as if Timore18 had given Beaver his eulogy. The progscreen then flashed the words,
now with honor, rise for our anthem and Great Master
. Beaver could only stand and continue scanning the room for any form of salvation. Once again Academicis meis, mi Adoráte’ sounded as the progscreen flashed images of valor, conflict, and the G.M.

There is nothing, NOTHING!!!
Beaver screamed in the tormented hollow of his own mind.

As it finished, the victual android, raised its arms and said “
SdotG.”

Beaver was far too preoccupied with the preservation of himself to do the same. He unwarily felt the android’s mechanized hand slap him hard across the face, sending him to the floor.

“
INSOLENCE WILL NOT BE TOLERANT!
” The robot shouted, with more broken English.

Beaver quickly sprung his arms towards the heavens and shouted in a panic, “
SdotG! SdotG
!” 

He then bowed his head in shame before the victual android.

“That is agreeable, sir.” The android spoke with its irises returning to normal size.

Suddenly realizing what was going to happen next, Beaver began counting out loud as he did every dark. Each numeral was as if they were grains of sand, holding the very essence of his mortal soul.

“
7… 8 … 9…
” then Beaver was interrupted, as he continued to hold his jaw in pain.

“Time for slumber Beaver2416… bed is preparatory.” The victual android bellowed, pointing towards the hallway.

This was it…
he thought. If something miraculous did not happen in the duo-yards between the living area and the sleep chamber, Beaver knew he was going to die. This hallway that he had walked thousands of times suddenly seemed much more like the ghostly steps leading to the mid-ancient electric chair, carefully preserved at the archive of fact.

Beaver slowly arose from the floor where Viki’s slap sent him. Each step forward, sent a surge of terror throughout Beaver’s body. This sheer inclination of imminent death caused Beaver’s sociopathic ways to be shoved to the back of his inner being. Beaver was afraid, unlike anything that he had ever experienced before. No, not the episode with Mercurial or any form of torture that he had ever received could even compare to the stark agony he felt, as he slowly drifted down the hallway.

Beaver frenziedly looked at every microscopic crack and crevasse scanning the hallway for a hiding place, as he moved with infinitesimal baby steps. Without warning, the bad ceil-bot dropped in front of his face. Beaver dropped to the floor, covering his head in fright.

“Did you sanitize yet?” the bad ceil-bot echoed.

“
N…n…no…no.
” Beaver whispered with stammering lips.

“
Then get up and march mister
!” the autonomy yelled, motioning towards the basintory.

Beaver shook violently, as he slowly stood to enter the basintory.

“Welcome Beaver2416!” the Lev-basin said with its usual candor.

It was not a welcomed sight to Beaver. With the torrent of his hidden emotions near the point of lunacy, he could only think of the Lev-basin in the form of a mid-ancient warden standing ready to
throw the switch.
As normal, the robotic appendage inserted into his mouth and the other part of the Lev-basin waited idle to be latched onto his goodi-port. As the robot clicked and whirred, he gazed with a psychotic stare into the steel mirror. He thought, with downcast eyes that this would be the last time that he would ever look upon his own face again.

What did I ever live for?! why was I ever born?!
Beaver pondered to himself in defeat. Within only a few ticts, the Lev-basin would be done, and within half a proc he would be infused and die.

Then suddenly, Beaver noticed something. In the raw moments of his vanquishment, his downcast glare of sheer annihilation yielded him a bounty, as if it were an epiphany endowed by the finger of God. In the corner of the basintory, directly behind the Lev-basin there was a dirty, dusty place with a small metal shelf. It was in such an unkempt condition, because the Lev-basin was never programmed to move out of the way for the Vacu-bot! The mouth cleaning appendage suddenly retracted, and the Lev-basin moved to connect to his goodi-port on his right hip. Now, the small dusty shelf was in arms reach.

Beaver slowly moved his hand towards the molded pouch on his left side. He carefully unclipped and opened the hammer-sack. The Lev-basin now filled his oversuit with warm particles. Beaver knew that he had mere ticts to hide this object, which now meant his entire existence to him.

Only one chance…
Beaver sounded in his mind.

If it was not skillfully placed, and fell off of the shelf; it would mean his very end. With the intensity of the extinct cheetah, Beaver grabbed the artifact and shoved it against the wall, resting gently upon the small dusty shelf.

The Lev-basin quickly unlocked and moved back into its former position, hiding Timmy2845’s enigma behind it.

“Sanitization is complete …” the basin quipped.

Beaver could not breathe; he could only continue staring at the corner that was now hidden from view.

“
Sanitization is complete, Beaver2416 … Please evacuate the basintory.
” the Lev-basin squawked louder. 

Beaver suddenly shut his eyes in fright, like a small child that believes if you shut your eyes it will all go away. He was waiting for the sound of sirens and alerts, demanding his apprehension. He was expecting the ear-piercing sounds of screaming and death.

But nothing
…

The room was silent. It was still and lifeless, like every other dark before. Beaver partially exhaled, because he could hold his breath no longer. He then turned, facing the doorway and thought hard about how to move forward. It was if he had forgotten how to walk. He looked down at his feet in his stupor, and suddenly realized that he had left his hammer-sack open and unclipped. This sight of non-conformity somehow brought him from the outer reaches of panicked insanity, back to reality. He quickly shut the hard molded pouch with a gasp of air. Then merely by faith, he found the inner scruples to take a step forward. With his sixth step, which led him just past the threshold of the basintory, the bad ceil-bot once again dropped down in front of his face.

“
Did you sanitize yet?
” the ceil-bot demanded the second time as always.

Beaver’s eyes widened and his brows lifted, as he took a hard gulp of air.

“
Yes…
” he said in an impeded, drunken tone.

“
Good! Now … go to sleep!
” the Ceil-bot said as it once again folded into the ceiling. 

Beaver took another hard gulp of air, as he slowly shuffled towards the sleep chamber.

The entire room was again filled with the pulsations of red-blue-green light and misted drugs as he finally entered.

“Good dark to you, Beaver2416” the nice ceil-bot said.

Only mere ticts ago, this greeting would have been followed by hate speech and violence. Beaver shuttered as if he still held Timmy’s contraband in his hammer-sack, as its appendage-like arms began removing his oversuit. He felt his heart stop beating for a moment as he watched the ceil-bot scan his clothing, and then put it in the bin for the auto-launderer. Beaver felt the entire universe seemingly stop for a tict or two, as the oversuit dropped out of sight. The appendages then outfitted Beaver with his sleepsuit.

“This is much nicer…I hope that is more to your liking.” The female sounding ceil-bot said in its soothing voice.

“
Y…yes
” Beaver slowly interjected. He then clumsily moved into the correct position, next to the vertical sleep vessel. The auto-straps loosely cinched around his ankles, waist, and wrists. With Beaver secured, the sleep vessel slowly moved to its 12 degree horizontal slumber angle.

“Good dark…” the female voice gently whispered as it retracted into the ceiling of the sleep chamber.

“
Good… dark…
” Beaver gasped, still in vast disbelief of what had just transpired.

As he lay there, strapped to the sleep vessel Beaver still could not calm himself fully. His mind was filled with the torrent of
what ifs
as he was succumbed with doubt. Beaver had seen before what kind of meticulous steps that the Academy took to discover anything against the Edict. He had not forgotten about the time of his youth with his fallen Noble friends, and his subsequent stay of torture in the reformer’s camp.

If they tortured me and killed them over a small portion of data, what great lengths would they go to for an antiquity like this?
--Beaver thought, trying to logically assess everything.
James was always so self-serving and arrogant … so whatever this is must be worth more than all the GP in New Judah--
he shuttered at this thought.

Most certainly, the Academy knew that it was missing, and they would be looking for it. Beaver had to move it quickly to a better, safer location; but he knew it had to wait until the next Decision day. It was the only day in which the majority of sentries and androids were in their state of suspended animation, and most of the Elites were off traipsing around, doing other things. It was the one day of least security, throughout New Judah, and his greatest shot at hiding it in a better location. If he tried to transport it anywhere until this time had come, most certainly it would be discovered and he would die. As long as it was behind the Lev-basin it was vulnerable--but it also was his only hope.

Beaver thought hard, wondering if he would survive the dark and ever see the light again. He lifted his head and quickly glanced at the dimly-lit bin holding his used oversuit, and towards the hallway of the basintory. It was as if all of his fears and agony were concentrated into that one dusty place in the corner and that one receptacle. They were both sitting there in anger, poise to pounce on him like two ferocious lyguns escaping their cages. However, his worries were soon overwhelmed and drifted to the back of his mind, as he could no longer keep his eyes open.

Chapter 7:

The beaming of the sun was seen reflected off of the wall, through the small porthole window. It glared into Beaver’s shut eyelids, jarring him to awaken. The new light was a welcomed vision to Beaver.

I’m still alive?--
He carefully thought.

He had barely slept all dark, as he had kept waking with bouts of night terrors. He fully knew how sadistic and how merciless the Academy was. They would not stop for any reason to get what they wanted.

One time, Beaver watched them infuse a man for merely having stomach pain. The man kept holding his side in distress, and was not meeting his workjob schedule at Perpetua. So, Beaver hit him and warned him as he was commissioned to do. But, because he continued writhing in pain and not working, an Elite standing idly by, picked up a sentry’s dunner and infused him. He did it gladly with a smile on his face. The Academy Elite was overjoyed because he got to fire the weapon, much like a mid-ancient child firing daddy’s shotgun for the first time. This episode always stuck in Beaver’s mind, because it was without any form of empathy or reprieve.

In fact, young Beaver in his days as a pseudo-celebrity, was forced by the Academy to be present for the initial public unveiling of the Dunner (which happened not long after his own parent’s deaths). Although he did not fire the weapon, in a fake showing of
adaptive solidarity;
he shamefully picked its first victim among a rogue’s gallery of captured non-conformists. With the influence of cheerleading from the sensationalistic holovised crowd; his childish outstretched finger picked a rabble-rousing worker. They were caught distributing propaganda about
resistance
and something called a
bill of rights
. In short, his literature was destroyed, his home and all its contents were burned, and he was ceremonially the first to be publically infused.

Beaver struggled throughout the night with the remembrance of the look of joy on the Elite leader’s faces. They broadened in anticipation, as their victim began to dissolve after about five ticts. When the worker disappeared as vapor, the crowd of Elites cheered and clapped their hands with delight. This was their new era, their new beginning. For Beaver however, this was something that he had already seen with scarred eyes. To add
insult to injury
, as well as strike fear into anyone who would stand in defiance, they replayed Beaver’s performance everywhere they could. They plastered it upon the progscreens and electron billboards throughout the Academy lands, for at least an entire span. Even as a child, it made him feel worthless inside, every time he had to re-witness this poor, nameless man’s death.

These horrible episodes from the past, protruded throughout his weary mind all dark long. In truth Beaver was a sociopath, however he was not evil; if there is such a scale to be used. He could fool anyone including the androids, making them think he was a tyrant for the Academy’s sake. But, somewhere in his heart he hated violence and desired only goodness. The Elites however, looked at everyone as if they were merely hired labor, with the ability to end their position at any time. Everyone was expendable to the Elitist powers, including a Hachiman from Westbrook.

“Time to awake Beaver2416 …” the nice ceil-bot spoke, as the sleep vessel slowly whirred into its upright position. The new light had seemingly snuck up on Beaver. “Your work-job awaits you …
SdotG.
” The robot retreated into its former position, as the auto straps loosened their grip. “Here is a fresh oversuit for you, Beaver2416. Please raise your arms …” The apendage-like robot dropped down from the ceiling as usual with an open, unfastened oversuit. “There you go …
is that better
?” it stated as it finished its clasping. Beaver nodded with a smile, as he lifted his left foot.

“Here— left, Beet.” The vacu-bot said as it strapped on his first shoe.  “Right— now, Beet.” This light, the vacu-bot put on the right shoe without difficulty. 

“
Thank you
.” Beaver said as the cleaning/shoe device turned around and left the room. “
I guess I don’t get a welcome today
...” he huffed, as he also started to leave. As usual, just beyond the threshold of the sleep chamber; the bad ceil-bot dropped in front of his face.

“
Did you sanitize yet?
” it stated as always.

“
No
” Beaver interjected with a laugh, because oddly it was actually good to hear its annoying voice.

“
Then march, mister! And, wipe that grin off of your face!
” the ceil-bot demanded, pointing like thousands of times before towards the Basintory.

As usual, he was met with the call of “
Welcome Beaver2416
!” as he stepped inside. The Lev-basin moved forward and rammed its oral cleaning appendage into his mouth and latched on to his goodi-port. As it cleaned, all Beaver could do was glare into the dusty corner. The mystery item was still there, and had not moved a single bit. Its presence made Beaver very uneasy. He felt as if he was a mid-ancient smuggler with rare contraband like jewels or ivory tusks, waiting in frenzied anticipation for his fence.  He counted the ticts in agitation. He wanted more than anything in that moment, for Timmy2845’s legacy to be re-hidden. 

“Sanitization is complete …” the Lev-basin sounded, as it moved back into its former position. He gently sighed in relief. It seemed like a plat-steel vault slamming shut, hiding its antiquities back into safety. 

Upon his exit the words, “
Did you sanitize yet?
” pierced Beaver’s head.

“
Yes!
” Beaver toned with annoyance.

“
Good! Now get to work, Mister!
” it said with a mechanized finger, pointing the way.  

As he walked up the hallway, he could catch a faint whiff of something he liked--“
Barley cakes
…” he said with a smile.

“Goodlight to you Beaver2416 … here is your lightfast before your work.
SdotG
.” The victual android said. It always seemed nicer in the day time than at dark.

“Thank you Viki, SdotG.” Beaver returned with glibness, thankful to be alive.

“There is also synth-fee… hopely to liking.” The android said pointing at the usual small cup of fake coffee.

“Thank you again, Viki.” he said as he took his everyday place on the uncomfortable stool. As he began eating, the Barley cakes tasted very good for a change. It was far better that the
usual
bowl of Granfibrous.

This special lightfast was a shining omen to Beaver. Beaver delighted greatly in eating these cakes and drinking his synth-fee. The reason was not, because he had suddenly forgotten about the infusion of his friend James Matthews or his inner pain and rage. The real reason, was after an event deemed
disruptive
by the Academy (such as a robbery or a death), the many Academy-run androids were programmed to go into a mode of
condolence
and
consolation.
This was another sadistic side to the Academy: To try to seem caring and benevolent, when most (if not all) of the pain and sorrow was caused by you.

This now consumed lightfast of well-cooked Barley cakes was a pivotal sign to Beaver. It was an indicator that the Academy powers seen what transpired last dark in his domicile, and merely perceived him as an unsuspecting victim, rather than an accomplice. This gave him a surge of new hope that the Academy did not know what truly had happened.

“Would you like more some?” Viki stated in usual random broken English. 

“No thank you, Viki. It was very good, but I am
stuffed full
already.” Beaver stated, with his hands on his belly. The android clicked and whirred around to the drawer with the barley wedges.

“Why thank Beaver2416! … Here is reward.” The droid said as it presented a Barley wedge to Beaver.

As he slowly lifted his hand to take the wedge, the words
stupid android
kept echoing in Beaver’s mind. He had to greatly restrain himself from rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disbelief.

Suddenly, Academicis meis, mi Adoráte played throughout Westbrook. As usual, Beaver stood up and raised his hands in salutation, with Viki doing the same. The G.M. then gave his usual greeting, “Good light to you all … my faithful.” Once again, he gave the same banter of everyone
giving it there all.
All Beaver could think about in those moments, was Timmy’s death and the antiquity that he died for. He pondered if that dusty enigma truly had the power to destroy the false deity, slathered on the progscreen. With a few maxims, the Great Master had come to his close, and the progscreen blackened once again. Beaver and Viki stated in unison “
SdotG
” and lowered their arms.

With a huff, Beaver then shoved the unwanted Barley wedge into his mouth that he had been holding. As he crunched, he wanted to spit it everywhere in protest. However, he once again thought about what sat in solitude behind the Lev-basin.

If only it could destroy all of this Acad garbage--
he mused in agitation, as if the texture of the wedge was made of gravel.

Soon with a hard gulp, he had consumed everything that was issued him for light-fast. “Thank you Viki,
it was great
…” Beaver said dejectedly, signifying that he was done as always before. Then, he casually walked out of his house. Today, certainly did not bear any cause for leaping. His sociopathic heart was broken beyond anything that he had ever experienced, throughout his miserable life. His parents and his only friend were now gone. Everything that bore the slightest bit of comfort or security was taken from him by the Academy.

“
Curse this man named Beaver2416! Let him no longer exist!”
he muttered under his breath, as he trembled with seething rage. He wanted nothing more than to lose all of his inhibitions and go on a murderous rampage as he glared at the crowd, scrambling to enter the transports. He wanted to kill everyone that he could, and then fall into the blackened void of death. He wanted to be forgotten, and every piece of his existence forgotten as well. Yet,
something
… some unseen force prevented him.

As if by automatic pilot, he dismissed his violent thoughts and stepped onto the transport, taking an open seat. In these moments of inner chaos, Beaver once again thought about what stood in silence, behind the Lev-basin. He could only speculate as to what it even was. He hoped that it was some sort of ancient weapon, a technology that the Academy knew nothing about. He wanted something, anything that could be used to break the stronghold that they had over each screen-covered dystopia. These inner thoughts swirled about in Beaver’s head as the transport began chugging towards New Dresden.

Freedom
was something that was truly unheard of. The thought of being a true individual was the ideology of dead in the Academy. Even the Elites with all of their pomp, were still subject to the Edict. To even have a thought of being free was treasonous, and said to be an abomination to the Great Master. Beaver always wondered what an
abomination
even was. Moreover, Beaver wanted his friend’s death to not be in vain. Whatever this object secretly held, he was going to find out why he was willing to die for it. He had to know what made it so special, even if it meant his own life. If James had gone so far, only to become vapor for something; he had to be willing to do the same for him. Beaver could only consider with closed eyes--
what could it be that was worth more than his very existence?

“
Hey! No free-dreamers allowed!
” an Acad-trooper barked, as he shoved him with his Carver-pole. A minor jolt of electricity startled Beaver, as his eyes sprung open and greatly widened. He was so preoccupied with inner thought, that he didn’t realize the sentry was sitting right in front of him.

“
Sorry … the … the … ceil-bot was acting up last dark--I need it replaced.”
Beaver quickly snapped back, trying to get out of hot bio-fluid. Luckily, the trooper turned around with a grumble, and let it be. Beaver slightly sighed, knowing that he had evaded danger.

That was dumb. I have to be smarter than that
--he thought to himself. The ride was certainly irritating to him. Timmy was the one who usually did all the talking. And, to not hear his non-ending chatter was to Beaver, like a large missing piece in his life. It was as if something vital was gone, and without it he would always be lame, lying in the street begging to each passer-by.

(Speaking of beggars …) Bobble once again stuck his grimy hand into the transport near Beaver’s face, as it made its stop in Stowelowly. This time he was peddling radiated gimp-straws. The wretched man smelled like usual, with his extended arm wanting GP’s.

“
Where’s your friend eh
?” Bobble said with a rare inquisition.

Without speaking, all Beaver could do is stare incessantly at Bobble, as the transport started moving again. Oddly, Bobble stood still for a moment as if he were worried or shocked, and then started his spiel about Gimp-straws again. This demonstration puzzled Beaver greatly.