Beaver2416 (Reviler's Affray) (19 page)

Once again the star-struck group stood motionless, waiting in awe. It was like they were adolescent devotees, receiving a correspondence from a mid-ancient fan club. Beaver spun around and extended his hand with a bow towards them. He followed up such action, with a wink and a glowing smile; as he slowly turned and walked away towards his “rear end” office. The group clapped their hands, as if he had performed a feat of wonder or great strength while they watched him leave. Knowing now, that he was at a safe distance away; all Beaver could do is shake his head and giggle to himself.

Upon entry to his office, strangely the sect-bot was awake and seemingly eager to tell him something.

“Post script received, Beaver2416--
Would you like me to read it now
?” The android said in an enthusiastic tone. It was a very rare thing to receive any sort of electron-errata or script from anyone. This made Beaver have feelings of insecurity, especially after all that he had been through in the last few days.

“O … OK. Go ahead.” he said with a slight stammer.

“
Hello … Beaver2416 you must report to O.L. at 12:10. That is all. End.
” The sect-bot quipped in an overtly mechanical sounding reverberation. “Thank you.” Beaver stated with a slight jitter. For Mercurial to want to see him thirty before the meeting, could mean anything.

What does he want
?--Beaver thought bothered.

To seemingly be all alone with him, could only conjure up images of that day of Benevolence. That was when he had to drag a man’s lifeless body to the Lev-compacto to be discarded. (Because, Mercurial had discovered the power of Cumal, and crushed his head.) For a man to wield such power disturbed him greatly. And to be alone with such a man, made him very fearful. However, he knew that he could not seem anxious at this early meeting. For him to act like he was troubled by Mercurial’s presence could alert him to something that he was hiding. Today, more than any other; Beaver had to be a sociopath and not just for his own survival. But now, for the survival of the Schism and their way of life.  

The sect-bot suddenly lifted its arms in salute as the G.M. appeared on the office progscreen. Beaver reluctantly did the same, and as before, he extended his index finger in defiance. He did this extension merely in habitual perpetuation, because he had already tuned out any words coming from the progscreen. No—not the gleem of his golden effects, or the majesty of the Colossus could cause him to give attention. Not even the glare of his plat-silver crown could make him focus on the G.M’s message. He was far too affixed upon other things. His mind swirled and tossed with thoughts of meetings, and Cumal, and Pagans. This contemplation of mental perplexity carried him throughout the boring rah-rah session.

“
Thank God
!”--Beaver said out loud with sarcastic agitation, as the progscreen finally dimmed.

Suddenly, he closed his eyes in fright. He could not believe that he had said such a phrase out loud. He stood motionless waiting for a punch or hand slap for his blasphemous outburst—

But nothing
…

The antiquated sect-bot then saluted again, with his arms extended.

“
Yes, Beaver2416--Thank our God!
” the automaton said with conviction.

Beaver could only nod and extend his arms, trying to restrain from laughing.

Again, he had his finger outstretched in rebellion, of course.

The work signal sounded, and Beaver clad with his effects, went through the side door to the production floor. This light, he felt more observant than ever. Before, his workjob was a humdrum reciprocity of the same actions and reactions. But, today he could not help but stand and watch the flow of production like never before.

The placement of a dia-sha …

The spacing of the trim …

The polishing of the Lev-housing …

The careful mixing of acids and isotopes …

After his grand experience, it suddenly seemed as if everything was information that could be used against the Academy. Even though he had seen all the processes for spans; today it seemed like this was the first time that he was actually learning from it. He wanted to absorb everything he saw and tell his new friends, much rather than hurt people. However, deep down Beaver knew that he could not stop his brand of violence. He had to continue his farce and cause havoc upon anyone that slacked in their duties. Or, there would be nothing to learn, except for death.

As he stood idle, Beaver noticed an older worker that kept wiping his face and was slowing down production. Normally, he would have yanked him by the arm immediately. But, today Beaver kept waiting, hoping that he would speed up. It was as if he was cheering for him mentally, trying to pep him up. Suddenly, the man grabbed his chest and winced in pain. Others on the production line began to carefully look at him, and it brought production to a halt. Beaver knew that he had to do something, even if he felt it was wrong. He grabbed the worker by the arm, and led him out the door towards the screen.

“
Stopping production is against the Edict
!” Beaver shouted as he led him clumsily out the back door of the production area. He then tossed him into the electrified barrier. All of a sudden, he was filled with immense remorse and regret that pained him. For the first time, he was truly sorry for what he had just done. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. And now after his ordeal in the caves, he realized what kind of monster that he really was. He despised and hated himself, now much more than ever before. As the man laid on the ground, Beaver was overwhelmed with intense emotion.

“I’m sorry
…” Beaver whispered.

Suddenly, he felt a hand latch on to his shoulder and yank him backwards.

“
WHAT DID YOU SAY
?!” an Elite demanded with anger.

“I … I … I said ‘
I’m sorry
’ as in ‘
I’m sorry… YOU WERE EVEN BORN
!’” Beaver barked with some hesitation, looking down at the worker.

“
I don’t believe you … PROVE that’s what you meant
!” The Elite called in a loud voice, knowing that other Elites had rapidly come out to watch.

Beaver looked up at all of the foppish vipers, who were waiting like extinct vultures--ready to tear apart the latest kill. He swallowed hard and suddenly had a look of determination come upon his face. He didn’t want to hurt this man, but knew that if he didn’t he would be killed at Parliament. This was the only chance to save both of their lives.

Beaver turned and reared back his club-like foot and kicked the worker, in so much that the man lifted from the ground.

“
Again
!” The Elites shouted.

One more time, the man was jettisoned from the ground by his massive foot.

“
Again
!” they bellowed in excitement.

He wound up with all his might, and flung his foot into the man’s midsection. The worker flew from the ground with such force that he flipped and fell on his back, and twisted with his legs under him. The Elites cheered and began toasting with synth-liquor.

“Ok … I
believe you
now. And by the way--I think he was
dead
by the time you
tossed him
into the screen.”--The Elite said with a grimace—“Old people and their
pathetic hearts … ewww
!” He then shook his head in disgust and rejoined the others. After their celebratory toasts, the party soon retreated back inside, and Beaver stood idle next to a broken corpse.

Beaver turned and faced the screen, away from the gaze of the imbibing well-to-do’s. Tears suddenly flooded his eyes and he was engulfed with sorrow. He didn’t know who this person was, or their name; but he felt a flood of empathy as if he had known him all of his days.

Who could be so cruel? So heartless
?--Beaver thought as he pulsated with emotion. To leave someone behind, to be swept up and eviscerated by a yardi-bot was more than he could bear. All of a sudden, he remembered the
hospital
in the underground complex.

They would have treated him there … not left him to die
!--Beaver screamed in his mind, as his tears turned to rage. This was another nameless victim of the Academy and their disregard for all non-Elite lives. They only saw this worker, and all who were like him as just another log for the fire.

Beaver knew that this was something that God never intended. And, that mighty creator had no part in its creation. No--this was the evil of Man’s greed and selfishness. It was the same as before the flood of Noe mentioned in Matthew’s book, as it was in this light of shame. The ancient world with its crude tools of hatred and great wars of wicked men, was an exact duplicate of the dunners and cumal rings of today’s mechanized penitentiary. It was built brick by brick upon the blood stains of the innocent. It merely existed to herd the commoners and exalt those in power. Man’s carnal hate and lust for domination had not changed, throughout all of the eons of time.

Yet, even still; Beaver could not bring himself to hate anyone but the False Master and his sadistic creations. He knew that whatever had happened to him in the Schism complex, was much more than the carnality of man--

It was the touch of God
.

All of a sudden, Beaver’s ambient plugs buzzed with the sect-bot’s reminder to go to the Overlord’s office. It was 12:00 and he had to leave. He quickly wiped his eyes and turned towards the door. As he did, Beaver noticed out of the corner of his eye, that the yardi-bot was coming. He wanted so much to drag his lifeless body somewhere else, where he could be laid to rest in honor. But alas, Beaver knew that if he tried, he too would be on the ground and lifeless with him.

“
Goodbye
…” Beaver whispered with a deep sigh.

Slowly, he turned and started walking back towards the production floor. This short distance seemed like the drudge of a great unwanted journey. As if he had to trod through mire and scorching desert, to regain his place in civilization. When the door slowly closed, he could only flinch in pain upon hearing the faint sound of crunching just behind him. Without turning around to see the ghastly imprint, he then departed into his office.

“Postscript received…
do you want me to read it now
?” The sect-bot spoke, while Beaver was doffing his gear.

“
Go ahead
…” Beaver slowly breathed.

He was still visibly upset, and now trying to mentally prepare to press the orange button.

“
Beaver2416, Please report to O.L.--Mercurial
.” It squelched in a robotic tone.

This message quickly put his grieving on pause. Beaver thought it very odd that Mercurial himself would send a postscript. Most of them are simply dictated and sent anonymously by reco-lev machines that electronically edit and send anything that you speak. They also reject and redact with a blaring tone, anything that would be deemed of a specific personhood.

By the Edict, all people, Elites and commoners alike; were not to attach their names to anything. There were no plaques or merited trophies throughout New Judah. No certificates or accolades of any kind were permitted. To even write your name (if you could write) was said to “
take away glory from the G.M
.” and against the Edict. The only place that written names were allowed to exist was the Archive of Fact. And this was only because, every name mentioned was attached to someone who was already very dead.

To receive a postscript that ended in someone’s name, meant that it was sent from them directly and without an edit. This would mean a great bypass of Academy protocol. For even the Perpetua Overlord to have access to such a mind numbing privilege, seemed insane to Beaver.

However, Beaver knew that if he had such a privilege and he used it on a Hachiman from Westbrook, whatever awaited him in his office—must be VERY important.

Chapter 15:

Beaver2416 raced throughout the hallways of Perpetua, with his new esp-cut hair and matching purpled cheek. He was in a hurry because of Mercurial’s personal message, left him on edge. To receive something with a name attached to it, that wasn’t signed Great Master was very unsettling and troubling. He most certainly did not want to be even a tict late, even though he was very afraid of what awaited him. Plus, he wanted as few as possible to see the horrid, Cosmo-bot creation sitting on top of his head. 

“Authenticate or apprehension!” the sentry resounded, in front of Mercurial’s office.

Beaver sighed in relief, as he lifted his hand to be scanned. He was relieved that no one in the office saw him walking past. If anyone did, they would never let him forget it.

“
Beaver2416--Hachiman. You are authenticated
.” The sentry said, and moved aside. Beaver wanted to hurry and get this personal meeting over with. He hoped that more people than just Mercurial would be found beyond the closed office door; as he knocked. His hopes were quickly dashed as he finally caught a glimpse of what was to behold inside.

“
Come in … Come in
…” Mercurial stated from his bejeweled Lev-throne.

Beaver slowly and meekly stepped inside.

“Close the door behind you--There is
much
to talk about, before the meeting.” He stated as he motioned for him to take a seat.

Beaver shut the door and complied with his wishes.

Mercurial gazed at him with a glassy stare.

Beaver had to greatly calm his emotions, because inside he was very afraid. He could only affix his eyes upon the Cumal ring on his hand.

Too much power
--Beaver dangerously thought.

After a few moments of silence, Mercurial suddenly turned. His stern look converted to a visage of laughter, as he peered at Beaver’s getup.

“
You REALLY need an upgrade! HA!
” Mercurial bellowed.

He could not help but laugh out loud at such silliness before him.

Beaver felt compelled to follow along with his mirth and do the same.

The Esp style was a
quickly
passing fad, created by a now-deceased glamstar named Bradley Rider32. He was a very unorthodox character that would prance on stage in bright, glowing regalia while singing Acad-issued lyrics. Watching him was reminiscent of a young foal, bounding and kicking through a meadow. He would also turn trademark flips with his odd multi-colored hair barely missing the stage.

One night after a multi-dark binge on synth-liquor, he did a flip during an event and over-rotated (with a loud grunt and amazing break-neck speed), breaking his neck and killing him instantly. For a short time people all over, put purple cosmetics on their left cheek in memorial. This was done because of the images that were broadcast of his swollen, purple face post-mortem. However, for anyone to do such a thing now, seemed outdated and ludicrous.

Still chuckling, Mercurial cleared his throat to speak.

“
Beaver
… Beaver2416 It has come to my attention that people have been
talking
about you.” He said, regaining his composure.

“
In what way
?” Beaver slowly said, having to greatly stifle his fear.

“Good … all good
of course
.” Mercurial stated.

This set Beaver’s mind greatly at ease.

“Production is up 20 percent this span alone, and there have been no incidents … along with it, there has been much chatter about of you becoming an Elite.” He continued as he kept gazing at Beaver.

“
An Elite … sir
?” Beaver rebounded with concern.

“Yes and--if you do well on these new set of promotions that we will talk about in today’s meeting--I will approve your status change.” Mercurial said with a smile upon his face.

“
Oh … thank you sir
!” Beaver interjected with a gleeful tone.

Just then, a bright blue light illuminated on his Lev-throne. Beaver had seen it before. It always meant that there was some sort of trouble on the production floor, such as a broken machine. A blue light meant there was a stoppage of production.

“
Hold that jubilation
… I will be right back.” Mercurial said, as he seemingly leaped from his Lev-throne with an agitated frown and out the door. This was the one thing that put Mercurial on the same level as everyone else. If there was too much of a halt of production, he could suffer the same fate as the last Overlord. This made him seem somewhat different from the rest of the Elites, in Beaver’s mind.

As he sat there alone looking at all of the artifacts and various baubles, Beaver suddenly felt downtrodden as he thought hard about Mercurial’s offer. For him to become an Elite, meant that he had to dwell with the Elites and take part in their precarious ways. Drinking synth-liquor till dawn and chattering about nothing, did not sound like a life of freedom to Beaver. It seemed to him like trading one set of shackles for another. The Elites had more personal freedoms, yet they still could not do anything that would defy the Edict or the Great Master. They were still a part of a mechanized prison, just with better accommodations. But, to resist such an offer would be insulting and be cause for alarm. This was something that he could not afford to happen. Elite or Select, regardless of what the Academy status he had; as the moments ticted by, Beaver made up his mind that he was going to be a Christian first in all things.

“Ok--I’m back! Another
psycho
on the production line had to be infused …
idiot
.” Mercurial toned with a head shake, as he bolted once again through the oaken door and closed it behind him.

“Well, we have just a few ticts before the meeting--So,
how is everything in Westbrook
?”--He continued, trying to make light conversation as he returned to his position on the Lev-throne.

“
Good … no problems at all
.” Beaver replied, trying to hide his emotions at such an odd mode of questioning.

These were not the types of words that he was used to hearing from the Academy faithful. Beaver thought that perhaps, there used to be a time in which these sorts of phrases were common. But, in this technological age; to strike up casual conversation meant that you were not following along with the stream. And, this alone could be perceived by many as against the Edict.

“Good … Good …
Is everything alright with you
? I mean, after
all
that
betrayal and lie
s that happened?” Mercurial said with concern.

“Oh …Yes.
Nothing
but
liquid off of a fowlrey’s back
. Anyone who stands against the G.M. is not my friend.”--Beaver resounded with a hint of arrogance.

“Oh … good.
Very good
. I think you will make a fine Elite
.
You’re not going to
steal
anymore Acad-data--
are you? After all
, I would hope that all of your
childish past
of rebellion is behind you--
right
?”

Mercurial said as his eyes widened, expecting an answer.

“Yes--I stand only for the Academy and our Great Master.” Beaver bellowed, with an even greater slathering of arrogance.

To explain Mercurial’s questioning: Many spans ago there was also much talk about Beaver2416 becoming a grafted Elite. This was because his celebrity could be a great asset in the years to come. However, when he became 16 (by the measure of the former time) he became defiant, like most teenagers. When he was taken as a child, they set charges and blew up the bunker where they were hiding. This was in trying to eradicate any memory of the place. Yet, no matter the amount of fame or propaganda thrown at Beaver, they could not erase this scar of the past from his darkened heart.

In his adolescent brain, he had started a quest to uncover the truth about his biological parents and their existence. After his capture, the Academy gave him a citizenship Bio-mark in his right wrist, linking him to
Academy issued
and
regulated
parents
.
These
parents
(if you could call them that) were nothing more than glamorized disciplinarian enforcers for the Academy. Their prime directive was to keep their
child star
in line, regardless of the method used. And of course, to be used for holo-ops and smiling public appearances to keep the illusion of domestic harmony. Even in his boyhood, Beaver knew completely they were not his parents, neither did they
fit the bill
of what parents were supposed to be. Regardless of his hidden past, just from what was portrayed at the Archive of Fact; he knew that parents are supposed to
love
their children.

These did not
.

In this immature search for true identity, he had secretly joined a gang of technotic clean Nobles, who had illegally started intercepting official Academy data. They were distributing it abroad in an effort to expose the daily fraudulent activity happening and inciting an opposition force.

Their plan, however was futile.

The Academy purposely started issuing easily acquired, sensationalistic data throughout its massively impenetrable, data transgateway nicknamed
The Bank
. This tempting data which was found in an easy-to-crack encrypted form, was placed on work conclaves in an effort to flush out any sort of electron resistance. This was done, so when it publically surfaced they would know where to look. The gang of young ruffians fell for it, and were eventually captured and publically infused.

However because of his status, Beaver did not befall the same punishment of infusion as his Noble counter parts. With much recorded public scandal, the Catholic Parliament sentenced him to a reformer’s camp to be tortured and fed more propaganda for an entire span. It was at this camp he once again met Timmy2845. Tim was the last living of all of the non-conformist children, taken from the munitions bunker. The other children succumbed to the unkempt conditions of the camp and wave of diseases that followed.

Truly, the Academy didn’t really care about these former children of hiding. The main reason that they were not eradicated upon discovery was they didn’t want an insurgence of sympathizers giving into their maternal or paternal instincts. As long as these
illegitimates
were put in their place, hidden from public view; the Academy could tell the population any lie they wished as to the conditions that they existed in. 

After Beaver’s sentence was carried out, he once again went from holopram to holopram, now in giving interviews of repentance and assurance to Academy solidarity.

But, giving Beaver Elite status was never mentioned again.

Because, he was now blacklisted as a
Select grumbler
, the Academy thought it best to try him for workjobs, suited for more
dastardly
of a societal element. With his passage of the cognitive dissonance test as well as being a former notable, Perpetua knew that they had the right man for the job. With about 2 spans of hard work and dedication as a Hachiman, he was able to influence the right Elites into upgrading Timmy2845 from
illegitimate malefactor
to Select status in the Academy, and eventual work as a propagator.

Suddenly, there was a frail sounding knock upon the door. Mercurial looked up at the holoscreen on his office wall. There was a small group standing just outside the door.

“The meeting …” he stated with a whispered sigh.

“We will continue this at a later time … There will be much more opportunity after you are upgraded.” Mercurial said to Beaver with a wink and a smile. He then arose from his Lev-throne, and nudged Beaver on the shoulder in affirmation.

“
Thank you again … sir
.” Beaver returned in a revered tone.

Mercurial then opened the door, to let all of the foppish do-nothings enter with their complaints.

As everyone slowly filed in with their usual well-to-do greetings and fake pleasantries, Beaver thought hard about everything that just happened. He sat on the front row, in front of the Lev-desk, which to any of the Elites would be perceived as a place of honor. However, instead of swelling pride or affirmation, Beaver felt sickened inside.

Why did I lie
?--Beaver mentally said to himself.

He had told many, many lies throughout his stint in captive New Judah. It was a daily occurrence, which he did for self-preservation. He had done it so much throughout the spans that he thought nothing about it. However, now this was something that caused him great pain. It felt as if he was hurting some unseen force that was watching him wherever he went. But, he also knew that to go back and correct his lying, would prove fatal.