The
city is old, nobody knows how old but I do not live in the old part, and I like
to venture there sometimes to walk in the steps of my ancestors. I sometimes
think that to live in those ancient times would have been so much simpler a
quieter view of life I would have liked. But this city with its flashing lights
and sirens, its arguments and the sounds of transports and phones ringing is
the place I belong. The one my ears have to ring with daily and the smog of
which my lungs have to cope with. I slapped the book shut and rubbed my tired
stinging eyes, the book was the only way I had of escaping into the past. The
still sepia pictures of its cobbled streets and stone buildings pulled me in.
But in my tired state the pictures silence was being overruled by the blazing
noises of the city’s nightlife. I didn’t live anywhere near the old parts my
home was a small flat in a well-conditioned estate. The residents could
sometimes be noisy, so loud even ear plugs would not block them out. It was
late and the night outside was dark, the city’s unnatural orange glowing lights
seeped through my thin blue curtains. I had heard Mum coming home bolting the
door behind her, she was a nurse and her shifts were long and late. It had
always just been her and me my Farther having gone "overseas" without so much as a goodbye, at least that is what they told us. My Mother said I reminded her
of him, she said I was educated and had a curious way about me, and my Father's
light brown hair everything else she said was from her. I was glad I was not
too much like him as I did not want to be his ghost, my Mother had given me
everything I had ever needed and I rarely wondered about him. Recently though
we had grown apart her late shifts at the hospital cutting us away from each
other. I turned off my lamp as quietly as I could and shuffled my way through
the stacks of books I had upon the city all modern, old, and ancient. It was
late and I had training in the morning, something I dreaded. I pulled myself
into bed and wrapped myself in the rough covers, like every other day I would
get through it somehow, figure out something to do, some way to defend myself...
The
digital clock shone dully out of the glass front buildings showing it to be almost
nine by the Establishments timekeeper I was not late. I preferred the chimes of
the old city clock miles away in the centre of the ancient town; it was audible
through the buzz of the modern city. I ran up the 3 flights of steps as the
ancient timekeeper silenced its chimes, and the large digital numbers flickered
to 8.59 as I ran beneath them, almost skidding into the automatic doors. The
receptionists barely looked up from the screen of her computer at the noise of
my entrance. As the sight of me rushing into training sessions was common as a result of
my self enforced late night study sessions. When I approached a crowd of faces
I recognised but did not want to go near, down the corridor I stopped and found
a quiet place against a wall where I allowed my breath and thoughts to calm. To
stop the pulling weight against my shoulder I dumped my bag on the floor
letting the weight of the books within it thud on the hard dirty-carpeted
floor. Unlike the others I was not especially happy to be back. A group of
well-built lads tall and muscular turned their heads as they tried to see the
professor coming and noticed me. They glanced at me wearily and tapped one
another on the shoulder and began talking to each other. Ignoring this I stood
patiently.
“
Oh look the professors here” I whirled my head around and looked for the
professor.
The
corridor was still void of him seeing this, the group of boys turned to me
smirks on their faces, and boxed me in against the wall before I could move.
“
Are you eavesdropping Sir Charles,” The oldest cockiest spiky haired boy said
putting on an exaggerated toffee snob voice.
He
gave me a shove against the wall, undaunted I looked him square in the eyes,
without retaliating.
“ You shouted it to everyone” I said
He
did not like this reasoned response, so rushed his head to me as though he was
going to head butt me. I flinched to avoid him and bumped the back of my head
on the wall.
“
See Professor” the boy jutted his head back as he laughed at me
His lips pursed and mouth open his aim didn’t
miss as his slaver hit me square in the face...
The
splintered wood thudded and split as we bashed our fists on it, the candlelight
darkened as a few of the flames were smothered out by the jumping liquid wax.
We shouted and screamed and laughed sinisterly in the dark:
“ Spin the bottle, spin the bottle,
pull it out and shout the throttle”.
The
dark green bottle flashed orange in the candlelight as it span around us in the
centre of our circle. As the spinning slowed our fists faulted and our chant faded,
the clink of the bottle made the room silent. Still and tense all eyes were on Celery
her green spiky hair quivering as our hearts pounded following the point of
the bottle. Celery looked down at the
bottle like it would explode and stretched a shaking hand out, she took the
bottle making the small roles of paper dance around until one fell out onto her
hand. She unrolled the scroll
And
after a small falter said “ I accidentally killed an Establishment soldier and buried
it”.
The
room flinched slightly in the knowledge that if it were ever found out that
they knew, they would join the soldier. Celery held out the paper to a candle flame
and dropped the flaming role into a metallic dish where the fire consumed it.
She placed the bottle back in the centre of the circle and span and we pounded
our fists against the wood:
( Extract from: We only Defy The Laws Of Gravity When We Have too, chapter 4. Charles)
