Beaver2416 (Reviler's Affray) (16 page)

“
No postscripts received
”--the mechanized lazy spoke.

Without a single word of salutation, Beaver burst forth from his office, and stomped towards the exit of Perpetua. He was angry because he let his inner thoughts cause him to perform a misstep. The last thing that he needed to do was anything out of the ordinary. Giving tosses was something he did daily with an outward radiation of pride and satisfaction. To not display such emotion and vitriol on a daily basis, starts to reveal one’s true feelings. For the sake of Matthew, Morgan, and the rest; this was something that he could
not
afford to show.

Beaver easily snagged a transport because so many people had dashed away, like they do every dark before Decision day. As he sat and contemplated all that had happened today, his mind once again fretted as he thought about what Morgan had said.

The last of the Revilers
--Beaver mused to himself.

If I am the last of the Revilers, then how many were there? Who were they? Why did I survive?
--His mind swirled with such velocity, that he seemed again like a question-laden toddler. These placeholders of enigmatic complexity held him in a trance until he had breached the horizon into Stowelowly.

“
Bobble!
”--Beaver vocalized.

The sight of his newly found friend seemingly snapped him back into reality. He was standing by the trackstop, holding to his farce of selling more GIMP meat pies. As the transport stopped to let off some of its patrons, Bobble slowly migrated towards Beaver, trying not to draw any attention.

“GIMP meat pies! You want a pie? Only a GP!”--He said as he leaned closer.

Beaver shouted--“
No you BUM
!” as he always had, looking for anyone watching.

Just then, Bobble leaned close to Beaver’s ear.

“
The woman Elite--she was one of us. Meet me here, early tomorrow. Push me and start yelling.
”--Bobble whispered, in his hidden accent.

Beaver then pushed him away almost to the ground, and screamed “
You stupid Tommymop! I told you NO
!”

Bobble then played it up like before. “
Please sir--only a GP! ... Please kind sir,
” he said as the transport began to move.

The transport sped away, and soon Bobble was out of sight. Beaver pondered upon his statement with a smile. Acad-Elites were scrutinized to the highest degree. According to the Edict, they were to be drilled and sifted, until their utmost inner secret had been revealed; and even that was found to be loyal to the Academy and G.M. In Beaver’s mind, it was seemingly impossible that an Elite could dwell within their inner sanctum for spans and not be discovered.

If an Elite could infiltrate all of the Academy’s defenses and safeguards, how many more could there be
?--Beaver thought. This idea gave him a new surge of hope. A hope that there could actually be a day, free from sentries and transports and Edicts. A place without fear of retaliation from androids and Acad-soldiers. The freedom to think for yourself and express yourself as you please. This sort of inner treason delighted him greatly, as the transport locomoted towards home.

Chapter 12:

Beaver awoke just like any other Decision day, with his auto-straps loosened and the light from outside dancing upon the sleep chamber’s wall. But of course, he knew that this day was to be much different. This was the day that Beaver felt deep within his sociopathic heart, that all of his nagging questions would be answered. There was so much more to his life’s story that he did not know. He believed that on this day, deep within those caves; there he would find out the truth.

Fully dressed, he heard the ear piercing tones of the Lev-basin beckoning him to come hither, as he stepped into the hallway. Beaver could only smile as the Lev-basin attached itself on to his goodi-port. Once again, he could see the dusty, metal shelf directly behind it. It was only 2 merits ago, that certain death laid there. Now, Beaver could enter and exit the basintory without fear of annihilation.

“
Sanitation is complete
…” The Lev-basin murmured as it retreated into its corner. Beaver turned and again smiled, because it was such an empowering feeling to have a massive trump over the Academy powers.

He could not wait to meet Bobble in Stowelowly; the very thought of it delighted him greatly. Hidden meetings and sneaky excursions in far-off places, without the Academy’s knowledge; made him seemingly happy. Quite frankly, to do anything without G.M’s and Edicts, was to Beaver; greater than all of the Electronic Goldpence that he had amassed over the spans. The very prospect of freedom was worth to him, his very life; if that is what it took. He paused as he looked up the barren hallway towards the blackened progscreen.

If there was a singular infinitesimal chance that he could make all of the progscreens throughout New Judah turn off forever, he was determined to do whatever it took.

After a few deep breaths, Beaver suddenly raced up the hallway. He quickly turned the corner, and leaped forth from his domicile to the pathway below. This was the first time since Matthew’s death that he even felt like bursting forth from his home, as he did before. Last decision day, he ran and leaped to leave his domicile quickly, in fear. But, this time he did it with the memory of his fallen friend in his heart.

“
Made it
…” he mumbled as he slowly righted himself.

It was still fairly early, and he hoped that many of the people had not awoken yet. As he walked over the hill and peered at the transports, there were very few standing in queue. This set Beaver’s mind at ease as he stood still, trying not to bring attention to himself. The last thing that he needed today was to be spotted or followed as he went with Bobble. An empty transport stopped and the handful of people got on. As it started up again, Beaver then slowly made his move towards the now empty line, to snag the next one. As the ticts went by waiting, he hoped that no one else would breach the hill, and he would ride alone. Suddenly, he could see in the distance another transport coming at him. He closed his eyes, like a small child wishing hard for something.

“
No one else … no one else
.” Beaver kept whispering to himself.

The transport stopped right in front of him, and he quickly jumped on the back seat. He then, looked all about for anyone else trying to enter.

“
Go … Go … Go …
” he continued in his whispering.

All of a sudden, the locking mechanism retracted and the transport started up again. Beaver greatly sighed in relief, because he was the only one on.

In all of the years that he had lived in Westbrook, this was the first time that he was completely alone on a transport. It was liberating to Beaver, yet sorrowful.

Timmy … James … Matthew--
Sitting alone as the moments passed, he thought about all of the spans of deception. To think that his hot-headed friend was actually the leader of something, was a great puzzle to Beaver.

Bobble the bum--a sentry? Verb-bots? Bibles?--
He digested it all slowly, with a high level of bewilderment.

Even with it being the next decision day, this was all so new to him. He knew that had to get more answers today, real answers to all his many questions. The reason was because it was affecting every facet of his miserable life, especially his job performance. He could not slack off, not now or ever. If he did, it would be a glaring red flag to all of the Elitist powers, and jeopardize not only his life but the entire Schism as well.

The transport hummed much louder and went faster than usual. This was of course, due to the fact of less weight to carry. It had gone so quickly, that when Beaver had finally looked up from his deep thoughts, he was almost into Stowelowly. In the distance, he could see Bobble in all his pestilent fashion standing by the trackstreet. He was talking to someone, which was dressed in the same level of filth as Bobble. As the people mover, materialized into their view, the hidden person suddenly walked away. Beaver could not tell if he had seen them before in the underground city or not. The transport greatly slowed, and abruptly clicked and whirred to a halt.

“
Stowelowly--please exit with care
.” the mechanized driver said.

Beaver stepped off of the transport and stood still, not really knowing what to do yet.

When the transport zoomed away, Bobble slowly approached.

“
No time to talk … run away from me--to the Bazaar. Go inside and look around at all the murals
.”--Bobble said in a muffled tone—“
Act like you forgot something--go outside--and then casually walk towards the Dugout. Make sure you are not seen or followed.
”

“
Here--wear this, but keep it concealed at all times.
” he continued, as he quickly slipped a chain with a crude device attached to it over Beaver’s neck.

“
Now—GO! And … I will meet you at the dugout in about a quarter proc
.” He continued, as he suddenly regained his fake persona as an annoying street vendor. “Please sir! Only a GP! Please!” he loudly barked, as Beaver obeyed his command and ran towards the Bazaar.

When he finally arrived, there were very few people at the bazaar at this time of light. Much more would be coming very soon, so he had to be fast. Beaver flighted the steps, and entered the crumbling building in a rush. Within a few steps inside, he spun around in wonderment looking at all of the mid-ancient murals engulfing the yellowed walls. It was as if he was an awe-struck tourist of the former time, gawking at what the locals had already seen for decas. He did this for a few ticts, and then made a fake look of surprise come upon his face. Then, he burst forth from the marketplace and paced towards the area of the dugout. As he slowly trotted, he kept turning everyway that he could, looking for spies and followers.

Luckily, there was no one to be seen watching at such an early time.

In mere moments, the dugout and all its decaying glory was clearly in view. Beaver seemed giddy, as he could not wait to enter and begin another adventure. This suddenly reminded him of a well-preserved book at the Archive of Fact. It was about something called “a castaway.” This term delighted Beaver, because it meant to him non-Academy. He always thought that it would be better to be alone on a deserted island, than to ever look at the Elites and their pompous frills ever again. To him, this place of caves and secrecy had become his deserted place of refuge; and he would be happy to stay there and never return. Beaver quickly pressed the sequence of 6-3-1-8-2 upon the illuminated lock. The lock snapped open, and as promised, when he entered, Bobble was standing there idle.

“
What took you so long
?” Bobble snarked.

Beaver could only roll his eyes in disgust.

“
Come on now--there is much more to show you.
” Bobble said in a hurried tone, pointing towards the small bathroom. Beaver entered, and as expected the door slammed shut and locked behind him as the stained tub arose. With a sense of familiarity, Beaver followed after Bobble without hesitation. After a few rungs down, he again pushed the shovel, sticking out of the side of the rock wall.

This time it was without instruction.

“
Good … the boy’s learning
.” Bobble sarcastically murmured in the darkness, before the light array turned on.

Again, Beaver rolled his eyes in disgust as he descended.

He was more than half way down when the lights brightened the cave. This time Beaver seemed somewhat disappointed, as he looked around from his high-up position. His mental caves were much larger and much craggier, than in reality. The first viewing of this secret place was met with great child-like wonder. However upon a second sight, he saw just a dank cave system deep in the earth, dull and lifeless.

“
A cave is a cave … get used to it
.” Bobble rudely quipped, as Beaver set his feet upon the rocky Earth. They walked together through the cave with its many natural formations, with an air of great tension.  As they went past the milk truck and all of the remnants of yesteryear, they continued to have an uncomfortable silence between them.

Suddenly--Beaver could take it no more.

“Why are you being
so rude
?!
I haven’t done anything to you
.” Beaver huffed, as they walked.

Bobble stirred with a stiff upper-lip. He was obviously upset about something.

“You watch your family and your friend’s blood
spattered about
… watch your mom’s
brains get blown out
while Academy soldiers
laughed
, and just see how
cynical
and
rude
you would become.”--Bobble snarled, not even breaking his stride.

Beaver paused for a moment and thought hard about what was said.

“
It was at the Arena … wasn’t it?
” Beaver said with soothing calm.

Bobble could only drop his head, as he stopped walking.

“
It happened today … didn’t it
?” Beaver vocalized with a look great concern.

Suddenly painful tears began to drop from Bobble’s eyes, as he began to speak with great hesitation in his voice:

“Yes--it started today. I was 6 spans old, and I was there. The Arena … the Abstersion--I saw everything. I ducked from all the soldiers … I was quick--I was a
little
runt.”—he scoffs—“I didn’t know where to go—what to do. So, I hid in an upper balcony and watched it all. What I saw will never leave me … NEVER.”

“All of the wailing and screaming--the blood
spewing everywhere
--and the laughter.
Always
--
the laughter
! They
laughed
every time that someone was
MURDERED
! It was like--they felt like--they were
doing favors
or something
good
—for the good of everyone. They had looks of
joy
—
you hear me?
—
JOY
UPON THEIR FACES
!”

With anger—“I saw little children--most of them smaller than me--being snatched away from mother’s arms. And, those innocent little …
little children
watched just a few riegers away, the splattering of blood,
gushing
from their parent’s head.”

“I watched women hanged, by dragging them tied to the backs of trench movers. And when their throats would finally
tear apart
--they would run them over—
I saw their seizures and vomiting blood on the ground
.

“I saw men being beaten like sar-rats with clubs. Others were electro-tortured in the stands to the point of praying for death--only to watch their chest
burst
with a cascade of gore, as they shot each one of them.”

“There were old men and women screaming in prayer, being bayonetted and decapitated—over and over—as they smiled. And, then after they killed them all--they pissed on their lifeless bodies.
They pissed--on my grandmother’s body
!”

“And the older children … the ones they called
unsalvageable
. They would tie them together--at least 8 at a time--around their throats; making their heads touch. To see—
to see
which weapon could kill the most with one shot to the skull, in some sort of
sick
game.”

“SAVAGE BASTARDS!”

“I WATCHED IT ALL!”

“I SAW ALL THE BLOOD FLYING THROUGH THE AIR!”

“I HEARD THEIR PRIMAL, EAR-PIERCING SCREAMS!”

“I HEARD THEIR HOWLING PRAYERS TO JESUS CHRIST …”

His shouts of anger echoed violently throughout the caves, in so much their reverberation greatly pained Beaver’s ears. Bobble suddenly stopped from his retelling of unspeakable horror. He closed his eyes and dropped his head even lower than before.

“
I’m sorry … that was wrong of me
.
I’m so sorry
”--Bobble solemnly stated, wiping away his tears. After a few moments, he regained his composure and calmly continued his speech: