Beaver2416 (Reviler's Affray) (12 page)

“Beaver--
You’ll miss your transport …
Oh, and
happy Decision day
to you tomorrow.” Mercurial stated as he too stood motionless.

His words somehow jolted Beaver back into reality.

“
Thank … thank you. Happy Decision day to you as well. SdotG
.” Beaver said, nodding in salutation. He took one more breath, and then turned to leave.

“Yes
… SdotG indeed
.” Mercurial stated as he too turned to leave out of the side entrance.

Outside, much of the crowd had already left. Beaver briskly trotted and bounded unto one of the transports. He wanted to get as far away as he could, as quickly as possible. He was still very confused and shaken from the meeting. He slumped into the seat, trying to keep someone from infusing him from behind.

“You did a
good
thing…
The Great Master be praised
.” Someone said from the seat across from him, with their hands raised in salutation.

Beaver quickly erected himself and sat at attention. Then, others around him began thanking him and reaching for handshakes. He suddenly knew that the workers were obviously also told about his false heroics. As he greeted each one with smiles like a mid-ancient politician, inside he grew madder and madder.

James was MY friend! He wasn’t a traitor--THEY are the traitors! He died for the cause of FREEDOM! Freedom from lies! Freedom to live for yourselves! Freedom to think! Freedom to dream! CURSE THE ACADEMY! HEATHEN!!! HEATHEN!!!
Beaver shrieked at the top of his mental lungs. He wanted to punch each and every well-wisher on the transport, and wipe away their looks of
adoration
with bone-crunching agony.

“
But … they are not your enemies
”--His sociopathy retorted with logical reason.

With this thought, his pool of fiery implements retreated into a cascade of tranquility. Beaver returned to his former state of calm, as he was last dark at the same time. These people surrounding him were innocent victims. Hapless bystanders who were herded and brainwashed for the cause of abomination. Beaver knew more than anything, that the Academy and all its vain-glory was
evil
. They could never drill into his head and heart that anything good existed among the Acad-Elites. Something deep within him could not let him conform and accept their many lies. These lowly workers, who give their despicable lives for a false cause; were merely gullible pawns upon a Chesser-lev.

As he sat in contemplation, he suddenly had a familiar smell fill his nose—

“
Bobble
…” Beaver said out loud dejectedly, rolling his eyes.

This time he was hocking sar-rat sticks, which resembled mid-ancient GMO corn dogs. Many of the patrons on the transport held their nose in disgust. Roasted Sar-rats had an unmistakable smell, reminiscent of ammonia terpenes. Just the sight of such skewered, large Animalia was enough to make several people sick to their stomach.

“
You want a Joy-stick
? Joy-sticks are
Tasty good
! Only a GP for a Joy-stick” Bobble stated, only reigers from Beaver’s face. He kept prodding his wares with great annoyance like a barker of the former time. Beaver could only cough and gag, as he batted him away.

“
No … you … fool
!”--Beaver stated between coughs.

“
Well then
… No
James
-stick for you.” Bobble quickly said, as he moved his wares into someone else’s way.

Beaver’s face physically changed.

That bum knows something, I don’t
—he rapidly thought, as the transport started moving again.

“
I want one! I want one!
” he began shouting, trying to get Bobble’s attention as the transport started moving faster.

The people on board looked shocked and disgusted, that Beaver would want such a hideous
treat.
As he waved his hands frantically, Bobble walked away in the opposite direction.

“Hey BUM! I said I want one!” Beaver shouted in a gruff, angered tone.

Sadly, he did not even lift his head to look in his direction. Whether this action was intentional or not, he did not know. The moving transport was filled with odd and disgusted glances, at such an outburst. Quietly, he swam through the sea of onlookers, and reclaimed his former position. Beaver could only watch him seemingly disappear as the transport topped the hill into New Dresden.

The rest of the way home Beaver sat in silence. He reflected upon everything that had transpired since last Decision day. Tim was living,
hording items
as usual. Now--he was
gone
and the final remnant of his existence sat behind a
Lev-basin
. He mused upon the fleeting memory of his father, and how it
had
to mean something. As of yet, he did not know what it was. The sudden meeting and Mercurial’s lies--
was he only covering for the Academy, or is he waiting to strike?

With everything inside of him in a swirling torrent of introspection, he also wanted an answer to his question--
What did that bum, Bobble know?
He felt assured that the name of
James
was a secret between themselves alone. For a vagrant in Stowelowly to know their life’s hidden whispers, was of great concern to Beaver.

Had he told him?

Were they friends?

Why would he know?

Did others know?

—Beaver continued in inner wonderment.

As he meditated upon all these thoughts, he looked up at all of the misguided souls on the transport. They had already returned to their mode of silenced conformity.
Such hopelessness … and for what?! The privilege to serve a made-up deity?! There has to be more to life than this
—he reasoned with great concern. He then expanded on such thinking, and considered every other transport filled with wearied people throughout New Judah.
They have nothing to live for … If only I could reach them--
Beaver thought with a hopeful gaze. As the people mover reached its final destination, he swallowed hard. And, with a new determination, he bellowed in his mind

--
Tomorrow I will … or die trying.

Chapter 9:

As it was last Decision day, Beaver found his auto-straps loosened and the sleep vessel in its upright position. The sun’s rays, again were dancing upon the walls of the sleep chamber, through the small porthole window. These glistening sparks of color were seemingly beckoning him.

“
Decision day
…” Beaver said to himself with a look of determination. This time he had awoken at least half a proc before the assigned get up. This light, he felt like jumping off the sleep vessel. This of course, before it descended at the pre-determined time, into its upright position. Simply put, Beaver2416 wanted to
get it over with
. His episodic quest had left him longing for an ending, with a slight cynicism. He wanted
answers
and he wanted them
today
. 

In that half a proc, he mapped out in his mind every step that he needed to take. The grab, just like the artifact’s placement behind the Lev-basin; had to be flawless. One misstep before leaving his home would hold death and worthlessness. The
death
part was obvious. A dunner’s blow to eradicate another insubordinate from Westbrook. However, the
worthlessness
part, is what worried Beaver the most. This small hope in a dusty mystery, had become Beaver’
s
raison d'etre. If there was a single misstep, his entire life’s existence would be in vain. He thought again about all of the well-wishers on the transport. This is whom, he had to do it for. He could no longer dwell in
fleeting
memories and images of former times.

The past was just that--
the past
. He was the last of his kind. The last bunker dweller, who attended so-called
church
, with his father named
Robert
. He also had a friend named
James Matthews
that he played with as a child--who died in his arms. This was all he knew with assurance about his past. Whether all of the missing pieces would ever be put into this puzzle of his life, he didn’t know. However, what he did know was:

This decision day, there was contraband behind his Lev-basin.

He wanted to know what that contraband was, and how to use it against the Academy.

If he didn’t retrieve it correctly, his past would never matter and his future would be non-existent.

Beaver walked over to the receptacle and slowly put on a fresh oversuit. He then, slowly put on his shoes. With logical fear, he hesitated from stepping into the hallway.
One step past the threshold and it all begins--
he nervously thought. Even though it was Decision day, the house still had its many sensors and automation to detect any anomaly of unorthodoxy.
I get only one shot, to do this right
--Beaver rationalized. He looked down at his hammersack and carefully moved the clasp; making it easier to open quickly. He took a massive deep breath and held it tight. He then gasped another and another looking towards the hallway. Every breath he took was more rapid than the one before. It was as if he had become a mid-ancient locomotive, building up speed and massive torque. In the culmination of his entire life, everything led up to this one single crescendo of time.

“
For freedom …
” Beaver whispered out loud, without regard.

He then, took the first motion past the threshold of the sleep chamber. 

As he stepped from the sleep chamber, the Lev-basin quickly called stating “sanitation is recommended…” In silence, Beaver slowly entered the basintory. The Lev-basin quickly moved and latched unto his goodi-port. As it was planned, Beaver slowly moved his hand down and fully unclipped his hammersack. He could see it lying before him! This was his one moment in time, the only moment that mattered. With a nervous shake, he lunged his right hand forward and grasped his destiny in the dust. 

“
Quit moving
, Beaver2416 …” the Lev-basin suddenly demanded.

Beaver closed his eyes in fright, paralyzed in place. He felt as if his heart had stopped and he had died for a few ticts. Frantically, he stood still waiting for the absolute moment to move his right hand back from the depths. Abruptly, the Autonomous bio-waste servant stopped its whirring and clicking. Everything to Beaver seemed as if it were traveling in slow motion. 

All at once, it then detached from his goodi-port, and began its short trek into the dusty corner. Beaver held tight the artifact, and with a mighty thrust of his hand he shoved it quickly into his hammersack. He then with sensational force, slammed the encasing shut in so much that it reverberated throughout the basintory. He then started taking very short breaths, to the point of almost hyperventilating and passing out in the floor.

“
UNACCEPTABLE
!” the robot seemingly screamed in alert, as it quickly retreated from the dusty corner, with a beeline towards Beaver. As it moved, the Lev-basin produced a long spiked appendage, much like an ancient mace-like pernach; out of a hidden orifice. It radiated with visible electricity, as bluish shockwaves slid up and down its plat-steel.

“
WHAT WAS THAT SOUND
?!” it demanded as it backed up Beaver into a corner, near the threshold of the basintory.

Beaver was still breathing heavily and could hardly speak.

Again, it demanded--“
WHAT WAS THAT SOUND
?!” as it pushed its electrified weapon almost against Beaver’s throat.

In his panic, Beaver’s sociopathic mind could only produce one singular thought.

“
I … I … I … fa … fa … Farted … I Farted …
” Beaver stated between his breaths.

The Lev-basin again clicked and whirred, as it contemplated Beaver’s stuttering. Suddenly, the appendage retracted and the Lev-basin retreated again towards the dusty corner.

“Sanitation is complete … please exit the basintory.” it sounded in its normal tone. Beaver quickly dropped to the floor. He felt as if all of his blood had left him, and he was existing with mere air. He shook with spasmodic fury, as he tried to regain his pulmonary composure.

With one hand he began to fan himself, trying to breathe normally.

“
The floor is not for you … please exit promptly
!” the Lev-basin shouted. Beaver knew that he had to start moving or it would alert the foot troops. He gained enough breath to crawl passed the threshold into the hall. When he crossed, the Lev-basin sounded “
Thank you!
” with a
snarky
attitude.

As he was on all-fours in the hallway, he slowed down his breathing. He thought for sure that he was a dead man this time. After a few moments, Beaver seemingly grabbed unto the wall trying to regain his balance, and slowly stood to his feet. With new found footing, his breathing and mentality slowly returned to normalcy. As he stood idle, his former thoughts of all the innocent brainwashed followers returned. He looked down at his side-mounted hammersack.

Could this be the answer to a new world
?--He thought, as a look of determination returned to his visage. Suddenly his respiration quickened, like before in the sleep chamber. He was re-starting himself, much like a mid-ancient gasoline engine. When his mental RPM’s finally reached the right amount, he let go of his internal brakes and rapidly began to trot up the hallway. Swiftly, his trot became a full run, as he turned towards the threshold leading outside. He accelerated as fast as he could past the threshold. And with a mighty spring, he leaped into the air tumbling to the pathway below.

“
Made it
…” Beaver vocalized with a slight breathlessness.

A random passerby looked at Beaver as he was kneeling in the pathway.

“
Idiot!
”--he said under his breath.

Normally, such a misnomer would be a cause of rage on Beaver’s part. However, this light he did not care.
Threats or torture … Cursing or death
… he was determined regardless, to find out whatever was hidden in his hammersack.

“
Good light to you … SdotG
.” Beaver returned in salutation.

The man looked disgusted and just kept walking towards the transports, ignoring Beaver.

All he could say to that display of snobbery, as he stood was “
Heathen!
”

Beaver dusted himself off (however, the pathway is fully sanitized by hygien-bots every proc) and also began walking towards the transports.

Even though it was Decision day, the transports were almost empty. The reason was, the workers were pushed to the brink to fulfill their quotas; due to the near end of the model span. Plus, there were no major announcements of any new upgrades or technological advances to cause all of the mindless to frenzy, like a mid-ancient crowd on what was called
Black Friday
. (
Who this Friday was or why he was considered Black, was still a measure of great debate among the foppish Elites
) Beaver delighted in this fact that most were still in their sleep chambers. Whether this would work to his advantage or not, only time would tell. His plan was to get off in Stowelowly and find a place of solitude there. As Beaver saw it, the fewer that seen him leave the transport, the better.

He snagged a clear, open place in the back of one of the passing transports. He made sure to do everything quickly and without alarm, as not to draw any sort of attention to himself. As he sat, he once again quickly glanced at the encasing, molded to the side of his oversuit. He could not wait to see what it actually was inside. For days his mind raced with speculation after speculation.

Could it be plans for a weapon
?--He casually thought.
Or … instructions to break down the Academy’s electron-bank?--Or perhaps, a map leading him and others to freedom?
”--His mind flooded with fleeting ideas.

What if it’s nothing?
--He awkwardly theorized.

Beaver quickly shrugged off such a foolish notion. It had to be
something
. It must be
something
. He could not bear to resort to thoughts of anything otherwise, than it being the greatest
something
in his entire scarred life.

As the transport buzzed past the electrified borderway, Beaver’s heart suddenly became somewhat giddy. He mused greatly, that this was his Christmas morning and he was soon to open a present. Even though, any religious celebration had been outlawed since the Great Conflict; he faintly remembered something called
Christmas
when he lived in the bunker. The only part of it he could grasp was receiving some crude gift, wrapped in discarded papers. What it was, he could not remember.  Because of this closely held thought, Beaver deemed that it must be in the former time, when someone received a gift from someone else they were to say “
Merry Christmas
.” Why … he surely did not know.

He smiled as he looked straight ahead. This was the first time in his life that he was filled with jubilation, upon the sight of the disease-filled area called Stowelowly. He had hoped to see Bobble this day, so he could question him discreetly about James. However, as Stowelowly materialized into view and the transport made its stop, Bobble was nowhere to be found.

“
This is his busiest day … where did that bum go!?”--
Beaver rudely quipped to himself, as he arose from his seat and stepped off of the transport. He looked everywhere he could, but the
bum
was seemingly non-existent. Beaver could only huff a perturbed sigh, as he paused and re-evaluated his ultimate goal.

Where to go?--
He questioned within himself. This was the one thing that he could never figure out, in all of his daily contemplation. Wherever he decided to go had to be secluded, without anyone to see him enter or leave. Of course, Beaver knew that Stowelowly, with all of its ruin; would bear the greatest chance of holding such a place.

But where?
--He chastised in his mind, as he looked at all of the crumbling buildings. Humbles were seemingly shoved into every placeholder of each towering structure. He kept going over the mappings of his mind, looking for any roadside stop that held the right amount of anonymity. Suddenly, he had a stark revelation that left him with an inner feeling of sheer stupidity.

“
Of course! The dugout!
” he audibly spoke, as he felt like hitting himself. In all of his turmoil and times of reason, he had forgotten about the one place that James ritually went to, each and every decision day.

With his puzzle solved, he quickly dashed like a free-winded schoolboy, towards the general area of the dugout. As he neared, he took things much slower, considering each step and guarding himself from the sight of anyone or anything that could be watching. As he stealthily slunk closer, ever towards the door of the dugout, he thought about all of the times that he had come here with Tim. He always made him turn away, so he couldn’t see his key presses into the archaic locking system of the dugout’s door. With honor, Beaver never did turn around to see what sequence was entered. However, Timmy never considered that each press made a different electronic sound. Beaver didn’t know the numbers, but he certainly knew the tune that unlocked his secret hide-a-way. This thought made him giggle like a child, as he finally stood in front of the weathered door.