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Post by reveria on Mar 23, 2008 14:20:57 GMT -5
we're getting closer to the grand finale! here's chapter 7 for you guys. I hope you enjoy! [1/2] ----------------- 37 “Grammaton Cleric Errol Partridge.” He showed his ID to the receptionist. “I’m here to speak to Nadine Ceder.” The young technician frowned softly as he looked down at his touch screen, reading through the list of prisoners currently housed at the Palace of Justice, and their status. “Sir, she has already confessed. Her execution is set for tomorrow morning.” Partridge nodded. “That’s correct, but she may have additional valuable information. I need to question her once more.” “I see.” The young man tapped the surface a few times, changing it to the overview of the interrogation rooms. “Sir, I’m afraid all the cells are in use right now.” Taking a step closer, Partridge glanced at the screen. “What about that one? Number two.” The receptionist shook his head. “The audio is broken in there. We won’t be able to record the conversation for evaluation purposes.” “That doesn’t matter. I’ve got a good memory. Put us in there,” the Cleric requested. “But Sir, according to protocol-“ “This is an order.” “Yes, of course.” Not daring to argue with Libria’s highest ranking Cleric, the young man obeyed him without further ado. Pressing buttons here and there, he looked up again after a moment, nodding his head. “All set. I’ll tell the guards to bring her in.” “Thank you.” The sliding entrance doors opened, and Partridge started walking down the main corridor towards the south end of the building, which had been designed for questioning. As he moved, he recalled the information he had. According to the files he’d obtained from the Department for Health and Family Planning and the citizen directory, Nadine Ceder’s ancestry was of no significance. She descended from an ordinary third class family, and no other members had ever been charged with sense crimes. It looked as though she was the only black sheep, a regrettable exception to the rule. The crux was that somehow his mind had been infected with doubt. He had no proof whatsoever that some things wouldn’t add up, but he knew they didn’t. Not long ago, he had acknowledged that it was perfectly normal not to have all possible answers to a question. If one solution solved the problem, why wonder about possible alternatives? But it was no longer enough. He entered the interrogation room and took a seat. The cell block wasn’t too far, but he’d have to wait for a moment. He’d been to this place many times; he knew every corner. The walls were soundproof, making the room itself a vacuum of silence. Partridge had seldom heard the sound of his own breath so clearly. Neither had he often been so very aware of how it travelled through his body before exiting again. All the while, his watch relentlessly ticked the seconds away. Finally the doors opened with a swish, and a guard escorted Nadine Ceder into the room. She wore a simple grey linen dress; her curls cascaded freely down the sides of her face. Her expression wasn’t easy to identify. Partridge detected signs of annoyance and boredom, but there were also traces of sadness and anger. Sitting down opposite him, she interlaced her fingers, resting her hands on the table. Without ever looking up, she lowered her gaze, staring into her nothingness. “Let me know if there’s any trouble,” the guard said before he exited. “I will,” Partridge nodded. When they were alone, he looked over at the young offender. “This won’t take long.” “ ‘course not,” she snorted. “Didn’t you get the memo? I’m guilty as charged, and I’m not gonna deny it. So go home. You’re wasting your time.” “There’s something I’m curious about that was omitted in the transcript of your confession,” said the Cleric, ignoring her remark. “I want to know about the photographs that were found in your apartment.” He paused for a moment, giving her the opportunity to reply. If she really had nothing left to lose, she had no reason not to talk. But she didn’t say anything. “Who are the people in the pictures?” he then asked. Folding her arms, Nadine Ceder stubbornly kept quiet. She turned her head, biting her bottom lip as she stared at the opposite wall. “Who are the people in the pictures?” Partridge kept at it. He could tell the young woman was still keeping a secret or two. “You tell me now,” he demanded, his voice stern and cold, “or I’ll have you taken to the laboratories for clinical interrogation.” That was when she turned her head, looking right at him. “Do you believe in Libria?” she wanted to know with a sincerity that stunned him. “Do you have faith in Father and what he stands for?” “Of course,” he replied without hesitation, wondering what this was all about. She chuckled at his answer, but it wasn’t amusement. Her entire body language spelled grief and a kind of bitter irony. Shaking her head, she gave him a sad smile. “Then you don’t want to know. Trust me.” Partridge didn’t move for a moment. He’d frozen, thinking he must not have heard her correctly. But the meaning of her words stayed the same, no matter how many times he replayed the tape in his mind. What on earth was she talking about? And what madness made her think he’d trust her? She probably wasn’t sincere at all. If anything, she had to be a great actress, and she was trying to trick him. “Answer me,” he urged her grimly. “Who are the people in the pictures?” Nadine Ceder hid her face behind her hands this time, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t you realise what’s going on?” she almost cried. “You’re walking right into a trap. Forget this. Forget me and those stupid pictures. Get on with your life and just let things be. Or else you’ll soon be right where I am now.” The high Prozium levels in his blood intercepted and silenced whatever strange sentiment stirred inside him just then. Partridge had ever experienced anything like it, and the fact that he was at a loss for words confused him. What was all this? What kind of game was she playing? And why was he falling for it? He failed to decide whether she was simply a brilliant liar or whether she was indeed trying to save him from this vague mystery she wouldn’t explain. “Tell me,” he demanded one last time, his voice dangerously quiet. Nadine Ceder bit her lip. Her knowledge, limited as it was, could do terrible things. Should she hold on to the lie she’d agreed to tell? She didn’t feel bound by the arrangement anymore that she had made with the Vice Council. Finally, she cracked. Lowering her gaze, she sighed, then shook her head. “I don’t know.” “You don’t know?”“No. Those photographs weren’t mine. They were given to me, with the order to put them somewhere where you’d find them. I was told to give you a name and an address whenever you’d come here.” “What? But - ?” “Look, I don’t know who the people in those pictures are, but they seem to mean something to you, and that was the plan. You’re being set up, and it’s working. Unfortunately I don’t know if breaking the deal is also part of Gabriel’s plan, so… please, be careful.” Two pairs of emerald eyes locked, and for a moment or so time stood still. Partridge could almost feel how seemingly random thoughts suddenly came together, tempting him to jump to outrageous conclusions. “Mummy! Nooooo!”
“The intuitive arts, Errol…”
“We have been attacked. Father himself has been attacked. But Librians, we will not yield…”
“The ends justify the means, don’t they?” Somehow, even in his reverie, he registered how Nadine Ceder slowly nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I told you, you wouldn’t want to know…” She wanted to apologize for the damage she had done, but she never got a chance to do that. Before she could say another word, Partridge had left the room in a hurry. ____________________________________________________________
38 Grace just wanted to die. Her entire week had been nerve-wrecking so far, but this day in particular had been a disaster from start to finish. For reasons she didn’t know, she’d slept terrible the night before. The hours between sunset and sunrise had passed her by within what seemed like a moment. It had felt as though she’d barely had time to close her eyes properly before she’d had to get up again. She’d woken with a subtle headache that she attributed to her constant lack of rest, and unfortunately it had gotten stronger and stronger during the morning. By the time she got to College, her head had been a throbbing mess. She’d sat through most of her classes without the slightest clue what was actually going on, and of course it had to be the one day when her Librian Law professor had randomly picked her for a brief oral examination. She’d always done her homework, so her faithful autopilot had saved her by a hairsbreadth, but that hadn’t made her feel any better. Ironically enough, she was angry with herself for the just-slightly-better-than-poor performance. She despised Libria and its propaganda, but a failure was still a failure. It was irrational, and she knew it, but the one big problem about being off the dose was that stupid little things like this could make her mood hit rock bottom. She couldn’t wait to get home. She needed to cry. Leaning her forehead against the cool glass of the window as the train left the CBD and made its way towards Quarter One, she took a few slow, deep breaths. She was supposed to attend her scheduled evening session at the Hall of Exertion, but she just could not bring herself to do that. Not today. She wouldn’t get in trouble for missing one. Everyone did once in a while, for various reasons. Missing one workout wouldn’t do her any harm. ____________________________________________________________
39 Viviana glanced at her watch yet again, gritting her teeth so she wouldn’t tap the floor with her foot, or display similar signs of nervousness. She’d delayed her departure from the Hall of Exertion for as long as possible, but it was way past their scheduled time now. Somehow she knew Grace wasn’t just running late. It was terribly unsettling. Their book swapping had worked perfectly smooth for a week, so now that she wasn’t showing, Viviana had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be happening tonight. ‘I’m sure she has a good reason not to come,’ she thought, sighing softly to herself. Finally, she gave up waiting and made her way towards the exit of the building. She needed to be home in time to work off her domestic duties before her husband and her children would arrive. There wasn’t enough time to make it back to the evidentiary department. However, she wasn’t going to risk taking the three illegal items that she currently had in her bag with her. That just spelled suicide. She had to get rid of those books somewhere.
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Post by reveria on Mar 23, 2008 14:22:07 GMT -5
[2/2] -------------- 40 “Yes?” The technician looked up from the pile of paperwork on his desk when he heard a knock on the heavy door of the Hall of Audition. It was where any and every citizen could report suspicious persons at the Palace of Justice. The system worked rather well. In fact, the majority of sense offenders were caught not by Clerics but by vigilant neighbours, colleagues, or relatives. An elderly, khaki-clad man entered the room, nodding briskly. “I wish to report someone.” ____________________________________________________________
41 Viviana was folding her husband’s freshly ironed black coat, slowly and precisely, like she always did on a Saturday morning. She loved the early hours, when the day was still young and yet untouched by tragedy. Working off her duties at this time of the day gave her the opportunity to recharge her batteries and prepare herself for the daily hardship that lay ahead. There was something about the simple deed of doing laundry that was soothing to her restless mind and relieving to her heavy heart. In a way, it had become a ritual for her. When the red stains were all gone, when it was just smooth black fabric beneath her fingertips, she loved to think that at least for now John’s conscience was clear. Until the next raid, until the next time someone would die by his gun, she’d symbolically washed the blood off his hands. Sometimes when she was safely alone, she’d hold the jacket in her arms as though it was him instead of just a piece of clothing. No matter how many times she cleaned it, his scent lingered. And every once in a while, she wishfully daydreamed about everything she knew she could not have. When she turned around to put the garments away, she accidentally dropped the belt. Even though it was only a brief, single sound, it almost resembled a miniature piece of music when the buckle hit the marble floor. Sighing softly to herself, Viviana bent down to pick it back up. It was only when she rose again that she realised John was standing at the other end of the corridor, watching her intently. He must have been on his way to the bathroom to take his morning dose. She didn’t know what had made him stop in his tracks and look her way, but there he was. Their eyes met across the distance, locking, and for the very first time in her life she wasn’t quite sure what to call the expression on his face. He wasn’t smiling, but there was a latent softness in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. His focus was on her, completely, as if he’d never laid eyes on her until just then. She couldn’t possibly tell what he was thinking, but her traitorous heart nonetheless swelled with love and adoration, reaching out for him because she could not. Unaware of how the corners of her mouth curled upwards ever so slightly, she straightened up again, reluctantly lowering her gaze... And then, without a warning, the fleeting dream turned into a very palpable nightmare. The front door cracked around the hinges when the heavy boots of a sweeper collided with the thin wood, using brute force to kick it open. Viviana spun around, startled by the loud thud, and visibly cringed as she instinctively moved away. What in Father’s name was going on? “Viviana Preston!” the enforcer yelled as the other soldiers swarmed out to seize her. His words came like staccato gunfire. “Don't move! Don't move! Comply! Comply! Stop! Stop where you are! Get down!” She was torn between her instincts that told her to run, and not being able to move because of the shock surprise. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a mistake! But before she could make up her mind, they’d grabbed her, forcing her hands behind her back to cuff her. And then something extraordinary happened. John, her John, rushed to her rescue. At first she wondered if she was imagining things, but as impossible as it seemed, it was real. He came running so fast that he got to the sweepers before they fully grasped what was happening. Her eyes widened as she watched him take them down one by one, brutally, effectively and so seemingly effortlessly, his facial expression grim and… could it be… protective? “Don’t shoot!” the enforcer shouted with a hint of panic in his voice when he suddenly found himself with his back against the wall, his own gun aimed at his throat. “This is a lawful entry,” he hurriedly clarified. “We have a warrant for your wife’s arrest. She’s charged with sense offense!” The silence that followed his revelation was just downright horrific. It was far more than just the absence of speech or sound. It was a moment completely suspended in time, so cold and sharp and heavy that it physically hurt. Viviana froze, shaking her head over and over again as the words kept spinning in her head without ever making sense. Their meaning just wouldn’t sink in. She was in a haze. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be true! Had they found the books? She’d been so careful, who could possibly have seen her? Had they arrested Grace as well? This trafficking business had been her friend’s idea, but they were coming for her instead. How was this fair? She felt tears forming behind her eyes, her pulse exploding as pure helplessness overtook her. And then John slowly turned around, and the look on his face just broke her heart. She’d never seen such disbelief… such disappointment. Theoretically, John Preston was not able to be horrified, but this was as close as it could get. It hurt so much to see him like that; Viviana couldn’t even cry. She felt cold inside, guilt and shame piercing her conscience. The moment she’d dreaded all these years had after all become a deadly reality. ‘John… oh John, please forgive me…I’m so sorry…’What about Robbie and Lisa? Would they be shunned by society now? Would they have to face being pointed at as ‘those children’ whose mother ceased her dose? Had she ruined their future? And what about John? Would he, too, be arrested for supposedly turning a blind eye? Would they believe him when he’d say he hadn’t noticed anything? It wasn’t just her own fate that tore Viviana apart. She knew for sure what would happen to her, and as much as she yearned to live, there now was a gloomy certainty about her destiny. But what about her loved ones? More than for her own life, she feared for her family. It was all over now… there was no more hope, no more dreaming that maybe one day this Libria they knew would fall and they could be together the way they should be, as husband and wife. There no longer was a silver lining on the horizon, only darkness. She saw no more life, only death. She had gambled with everything she had, had risked all she possessed and held dear, and now she had to pay the price. The cold hands of regret reached out for her, treacherously poisoning her mind and almost making her wish she’d never ceased her dose in the first place… But her heart was beating so furiously, and even as it drowned in pain and sorrow it refused to change its mind about anything. The only real regret she had was that she’d never been allowed or able to show John how much she loved him. It would have meant her death, but now that she was going to the furnaces anyway, there was nothing left to hold her back. Breaking free from the sweepers that were holding her, Viviana leaped, closing the distance between her and John before anyone could stop her. It felt like slow motion as she raised her hands to his cheeks, gently cupping his handsome face between her palms, rising up to press her mouth against his beautifully warm, incredibly soft, and painfully unresponsive lips. She felt how he froze beneath her touch, confused and offended, but she didn’t blame him. It was only a moment, but she desperately hoped that maybe one day he’d recall it with a bittersweet smile. “Remember me,” she gasped when the sweepers forcefully tore her away from him, really meaning ‘I love you.’ But he wouldn’t have known what it meant. Not yet. ____________________________________________________________
42 “Confiscated evidence X-13-T36. Nadine Ceder.” Partridge waited patiently as the evidentiary officer turned around to obtain the requested box from the long shelves of the archives. On the outside the Cleric was calm, but the truth was that the cold hands of nervousness had started to reach out for him. Combined with the eerie shadows of doubt that had attached themselves to his every thought since he’d remembered the old mountain footpath, his state of mind was – for the lack of a better word - critical. It had been just this morning when it had occurred to him that he might be under-medicated. Not by accident – on purpose. He had asked to have his dose adjusted after Operation Eden, and he had naturally assumed his new intervals were going to be more concentrated. But that had been before he had found out that apparently he was part of a cat-and-mouse game whose rules he could only guess. “Here you are, Sir,” the young man said as he slid the metal cube across the counter. He was going to add something when his superior called out to him. “Excuse me.” Partridge acted quickly. He knew where the surveillance camera was, and he also knew that right at this moment, the CCTV crew would only see his back turned towards them in case anyone was watching. The four photographs made a quick transition from the box into the inside pocket of his coat, and when the officer came back a few moments later, the Cleric calmly returned the evidence. Since Nadine Ceder’s incineration had gone through ten minutes ago, her file would be deleted and the remains of her illegal personal belongings be destroyed by this evening. Only important data was ever archived. Of course, borrowing the photographs without authorization meant he was taking a risk. But strangely enough he was alright with that. Turning around, Partridge left the evidentiary department. There was something he wanted to find out. ____________________________________________________________
43 “Viviana Preston…” The interrogator’s voice was sharp and unforgiving, causing her to shiver inside. She’d wrapped her arms around herself as if to shield her mind and body from the cruelties that were to come, but she wasn’t surprised that her usual defence mechanisms weren’t working. The man had started to walk around slowly, obviously well aware that each step he took in the silent interrogation room sounded like a gunshot. There was a reason why clinical interrogation, with or without drugs, never failed. There just was no hope in this place. Once in here, there was no salvation. Not one prisoner, guilty or innocent, had ever made it back. “Do you deny to have ceased your dose contrary to Librian laws? Do you deny to have stolen illegal literary items from the evidentiary department?” Viviana lowered her head as she closed her eyes, fighting the overwhelming urge to cry. She felt so helpless, so furious, but her pride forbade her to succumb to hysteria. She wasn’t going to grant them the pleasure of having destroyed another human being. They could burn her, but she wouldn’t allow them to rob her of her dignity. “Do you deny it?” he repeated urgently, standing right behind her. She sighed, desperately trying to master the chaos that was her mind. Her thoughts were flailing around without aim or purpose, which made her feel slow and dizzy. She felt a cold, subtle pain in her stomach, caused by all those questions and worries over which she had no control. And if all that wasn’t nerve-wrecking enough, she found herself drifting from extreme self-pity to sheer anger and back within seconds. ‘Why me?’ she thought. ‘Why me, and not Grace? It’s not fair. I shouldn’t have to die for this. It was her idea. I didn’t want anything to do with the resistance. But I didn’t want to let down the only friend I ever had. And how does she repay me? I should have known that I couldn’t trust her. Who knows, maybe she set me up on purpose? After all, she is the daughter of Libria’s highest ranking Cleric, an aspiring administrator, and…’When she suddenly realised what directions her thoughts were taking, she shivered inside. A wave of shame and disgust towards her traitorous mind washed over her, and she felt tears rallying around her eyes. She realised that she was about to succumb to a downward emotional spiral, a process that would make her curse and condemn those she held dear until she’d get to a point where she’d wish they’d never existed. It was a coping mechanism, a feeble attempt to deter the cold, numbing fear and loss and the injustice that she felt, replacing it with anger and hatred… ‘What am I thinking?’ she slowly shook her head, sighing inwardly. ‘Grace would never ever have set me up. Something must have happened. What if…? No. She’s been doing so well…’“Do you confess then?” the interrogator pressured her in a menacing tone of voice. Viviana winced. She’d completely forgotten about him for a moment as her worries shifted. Now she couldn’t help but feel anxious about Grace. Had they arrested her, too? Did they know she was involved? Groaning, she bit her bottom lip, clenching her eyes shut. Chances were Grace was free, unaware of the fatal turn her plan had taken. And if that was the case, she was in a position where she could decide her friend’s fate. ‘If I don’t tell them she was involved in this, they might never know…’She was sad, shocked and ashamed that the spiteful part of her was teasing and tempting her to report Grace. ‘She sent you to your death. Why not return the favour?’ a mean, little voice whispered. It made sense, such hateful, perfect sense. The bitter taste of it brought her to the very edge of feeling physically sick, until eventually she cracked. A low, inhuman sob escaped her mouth, echoing in the sterile chamber, and causing her slender frame to shake. “Yes, I confess,” she cried before she’d change her mind. “I ceased my dose. I stole the books. Yes, I’m guilty.” “Who are your accomplices?” Crying silently, Viviana shook her head. “I don’t have any accomplices. I took the books for my private… pleasure.” “And why did you throw them away?” She felt his piercing gaze on her, and she squirmed. “I… I had to attend my scheduled exercise at the Hall of Exertion. After that, I…I realized my husband would already be home, so… I considered it too risky to take the books with me.” It wasn’t really a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. For some stupid reason, Viviana found herself looking up at the man, their eyes interlocking for a moment or two. She could tell he was assessing her, trying to read her and determine whether she was telling the truth or not. When he looked away again and barely nodded, she felt a strange, brief relief. He’d bought it. “Your incineration is scheduled for 9am tomorrow morning,” he then informed her, brutally and laconically. Then he beckoned the guards. “Take her away.” By the time the guards seized her, Viviana had gone completely numb. She felt empty and unspeakably lonely, but at least now she really didn’t have anything left to lose. In 22 hours, she’d be dead.
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Post by Mirabilis on Mar 23, 2008 14:32:45 GMT -5
Heart-stopping as always reveria. ;D
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Post by Libby on Mar 23, 2008 15:45:37 GMT -5
Beautifully written...you really know how to draw out the emotions. And as I keep saying, I can hardly believe English isn't your first language!!!
I love this line
I was playing the scene in my head as I read this and you so captured the moment.
Poor Grace...this will be so hard for her.
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Post by Aedh on Mar 24, 2008 9:56:24 GMT -5
Excellent. Commendatory acknowledgement is extended, both on the quality of your prose, and the increasingly didatic character of the narrative. It appears as though law and order shall prevail after all.
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Post by reveria on Mar 24, 2008 16:28:54 GMT -5
thanks guys! *insert big happy smile on face, something like ==> ;D *I think I might have finally gotten over my next-chapter-writers'-block, so keep your fingers crossed for me. I want to finish this story before its second anniversary in September. Can't believe it's been that long!
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Post by clericjay on Mar 26, 2008 14:16:18 GMT -5
You do have the wonderful gift to describe in a very imaginative and touching way. ;D ;D
Great work!
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Post by reveria on Jul 1, 2008 12:08:37 GMT -5
wow, has it really been 3 months? God, I hate uni. I'm still in the midst of exams, but I took the day off after my psychology exam this morning (sadly no EQ questions this time, haha) and finally got back to CTI. This next installment is a shorter one, but #9 is already going to be massive, so I wanted to break them up. I hope you guys are still reading! Here we go then --------------------- 44 Grace was about to leave for Freedom Reading Room when the phone rang. She stopped in the doorway, wondering for the briefest moment whether or not she should answer it. It was high time for her to go, but phone calls in Libria were never made without a purpose. This call had to be of importance. So she shut the front door again and strode back to the living-room. She picked up the phone. “Hello?” Over the past few weeks, she’d worked tirelessly on refining her fake toneless voice to perfection. It was all about getting into the right mindset. Her method was to think of something so insignificant that any undertone would die a natural death before the words could leave her mouth. This also applied to the expressionless face she had to wear during the day. She’d realised in the very early stages of her awakening that letting your thoughts wander meant treading on thin ice. Whenever one’s actions ceased to be completely conscious, clarity gave way to ambiguity, and ambiguous actions that might be interpreted as emotional were fatal. To channel the tension she carried within herself, she needed two things. The first was complete awareness of her constant perturbation. The second was a foolproof way to deal with any sort of inner turmoil. She had recently acquired a copy of Seneca’s De Tranquilitate Animi, and she had since tried to stay clear of all sorts of affects. It worked better and better the more she practised, but it was a slow, painful process. She still struggled through her days, terrified of being found out, hoping and praying that her status and privileges would be enough to protect her until she’d have herself under complete control. Prozium without Prozium – that was her ultimate goal. “This is John Preston.” “Cleric.” Even though he couldn’t see her, Grace straightened up. Posture, so she knew, could easily influence the tone of voice. “What can I do for you?” “Is Partridge there?” Grace failed to put a finger on it, but Preston sounded… strange, for the lack of a better word. She couldn’t explain it, but her radar had picked up on a very faint undertone that she couldn’t quite place. Perhaps this was the one advantage about being a sense offender – the ability to just sense things that would escape a purely rational mind. But it was also dangerous; she knew she was playing a game of Russian roulette about being right or wrong. “No,” she replied. “He left for the City earlier this morning.” She couldn’t help but suspect something was going on. Over the six years that he’d been her father’s apprentice, Preston had only ever called their household about very urgent matters. Grace knew very well that it was none of her business, and that it would be suicidal to ask about Clerical affairs that didn’t concern her. Still, she had to give it some sort of innocuous try. “May I take a message?” was as far as she could go without causing suspicion. On the other end of the line, Preston released a slow, quiet breath that told her he was thinking. Grace bit her bottom lip, careful not to make any kind of sound that could give her away. “Never mind,” he replied after a moment. “I’ll message his communicator and ask him to meet me at the Headquarters to attend the hearing.” He then hung up without saying another word, and Grace was left with a cold and sudden fear in her stomach. ‘What hearing?’____________________________________________________________ 45 “Cleric.” James Ceder was a tall, skinny man in his late forties who had rarely left his house for a few years now due to a bad back. He lived alone on the outer edge of the Inner City, in a tiny one bedroom apartment whose window had long stopped letting any sunlight through. “What can I do for you?” he asked as Partridge stepped inside the small unit, and he closed the door behind him. Partridge detected little to no nervousness in the man’s voice, and he took his time to reply. Before he answered, he had a good look around. Opening drawers, turning over some old cardboard boxes and checking the walls without ever saying a word, he concluded the place was clean. “Mr. Ceder,” he then said, looking straight at his victim. “What do you do for a living?” “I am retired, Sir,” Ceder answered dutifully. “Before that.” “I was a technician at the Palace of Justice, Sir.” “Before that.” “What do you mean, before that?” “Before Libria came to exist, what did you do for a living?” Ceder looked slightly confused, not sure where this was going, or why he was being asked these questions. He barely remembered what he had done before Libria. Why would it be of any significance anyway? He’d always been a good citizen; his vest was as white as it could be. “I was just a boy when Libria was founded,” he recalled. “Twelve, I think, turning thirteen. I joined Young Libria anno libriae 3, after my parents were killed.” “Who killed your parents?” “The Tetragrammaton, Sir.” “And why was that?” “They opposed the creation of Libria, Sir. My father was a so-called Freedom Activist, and my mother supported him. They were killed within a year of each other.” “And how about yourself?” Partridge wanted to know, watching him intently. This was going very well. “I’m loyal to our great society, Cleric. I always have been. I would have joined Young Libria sooner, but my parents wouldn’t let me.” “I see.” Partridge turned his back on the man again, looking around the room once more. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked himself. ‘Even if your conclusions are right... what would you do with that information?’ But he knew it was too late. He was already here, and he was going to get what he had come for. “Do these look familiar?” He tossed Nadine Ceder’s photographs onto the small, plain dining table between them. He watched with fascination as a look of surprise and recognition hurried across James Ceder’s features. “These... these are photographs of my family!” he exclaimed, a look of utter disbelief written all over his face. He bent down a little and picked up the picture of the three boys. Partridge could almost watch the long-lost memories flailing around Ceder’s head, and he made a dismissive gesture when he opened his mouth. He wasn’t interested in hasty explanations or proclamations of loyalty to Libria right now. This wasn’t about Ceder. “What happened to your brothers?” he demanded as he loosened the gun inside his sleeve. Ceder let out a bit of a breath as he thought, rummaging through the old flashes of images that he’d almost erased from his mind. “I am honestly not sure,” he answered, shaking his head. “My mother fled with them to the mountains. I never heard from her again, or from Tommy and Er-...” He didn’t finish the sentence. Two pairs of emerald eyes locked across the room, and while one of them found his suspicion confirmed, the other one realised that perhaps the thought he’d just had wasn’t entirely crazy. “Hello Jamie.” “You... you’re feeling!” he stammered as he shuffled backwards, pointing his finger at Partridge. The echo of one lonely gunshot gradually faded away into the night.
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Post by Aedh on Jul 15, 2008 23:35:03 GMT -5
Very good. Number Nine is expected. We, like Grace, wish to know more about this ... hearing.
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Post by clericjay on Jul 16, 2008 14:52:55 GMT -5
I'm very sorry that I'm so late. I'm also very suspicious about the "hearing". Seems like I can finally figure out pretty clearly, where this will be going to. But please surprise me! ;D
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Post by reveria on Aug 1, 2008 15:11:37 GMT -5
gna, why didn't I get any notifications? *kicks the email settings* and I was wondering why nobody was reading anymore... teh. number 9 should be here shortly. no uni until October!!! and I'll try my best, Jay
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Post by reveria on Aug 24, 2008 8:41:08 GMT -5
well, I realised I have to split installment 9 up in 2 or even 3 separate installments. I'm only through 1/3 of my planned scenes, and it's already 8 pages long. so here's the first third enjoy ---------------- [1/3] 46 Grace awoke to the steady beeping sound of a heart monitor. Her body felt limp, numb and heavy, and her heartbeat, albeit thumping steadily at a mere 65 beats per minute, echoed in her head like roaring thunder. Nausea kicked in but a moment later. Groaning inwardly, she swallowed when she realized she was running low on oxygen. Her chest felt so painfully tight that she found it difficult to breathe. ‘Where in Father’s name am I?’Letting her eyes wander around the sterile room, it took her a mere few seconds to figure out that she was at the Hall of Convalescence. She knew the place; she had been here more than once to have her injuries treated after the bomb attack. But she had no idea how, when and why she had ended up in here this time around. Grace turned her head when the sliding doors opened with a soft, swishing sound. A stern-looking, middle-aged, physician entered, tapping the electronic clipboard that she was carrying a few times before looking at her patient. “How are you feeling?”She frowned warily at the doctor’s strong emphasis of that last word. This could be some sort of between-the-lines communication, or it could be a trap. Turning her head, she glanced at the woman’s name tag. Dr. Ruth Heiler. The name meant nothing to her. The face didn’t look familiar either. She therefore didn’t answer at first, wondering if it was safe to say anything at all. Considering the fact that her mind was drawing a complete blank about how she’d gotten here, she deemed it wise to just keep her mouth shut for the time being. And so she simply shrugged. “You will be released tomorrow morning,” Dr. Heiler informed her as she proceeded to preparing an amber injection. Grace caught a glimpse of the doctor’s watch, which told her it was just past 8pm. Questions over questions were flailing around in Grace’s head. ‘Why am I here?’ ‘What’s wrong with me?’ ‘How long was I out?’ ‘Are you a sense offender?’ ‘Does my father know I’m here?’ But she voiced none of them. Part of her just didn’t care enough. She only winced ever so slightly as the needle pierced the sensitive skin of her neck. “You really don’t remember, do you?” Grace had started to drift off again, gripped by a sheer overwhelming fatigue, when the physician’s voice startled her. Closing her eyes for a moment, she shook her head ever so softly, confused. “Remember what?” she whispered, her voice heavy with an inexplicable exhaustion. But Dr. Heiler only sighed. “Let’s hope it stays that way,” she murmured under her breath as she turned around and exited.
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Post by reveria on Aug 24, 2008 8:42:18 GMT -5
[2/3] 47 6 hours earlier“Please state your rank, name and age for the record.”
“Grammaton Cleric First Class Errol Partridge. I am 40 years old.”
“Tell us about your relationship with the subject-in-questioning.”
“We are partners. Before that, I was his mentor.”
“So how long have you known Cleric John Preston?”
“Six years, Sir.”
“And have you ever witnessed any kind of peculiar behavior in your partner? Any suspicious actions, or verbal expressions?”
Partridge let out a bit of a breath, resisting the urge to prop himself up on the witness stand. He’d been called to Preston’s hearing on such short notice that he hadn’t had a moment to prepare himself. He’d never even imagined he’d find himself inside the Hall of Questions one day. But five hours ago, Viviana Preston had been arrested and charged with sense offense. Three hours ago, she had confessed everything. While sense offence was nothing new, it had never occurred in the immediate environment of a Grammaton Cleric. The hearing had been organized and set up remarkably fast. As astonishing as it was, Partridge wasn’t surprised. If there was a rogue Cleric, the Tetragrammaton better find him fast. But they were accusing the wrong man.
“Sir,” he replied solemnly. “I can assure you that my partner is completely loyal to Father, and to our great society. The actions of his spouse are regrettable, and they are to be condemned and punished. However, John Preston has done no wrong. Your polygraph test has confirmed that.”
The Head of Clergy’s facial expression remained unreadable. “And how do you think is it that he came to miss it?”
Partridge hesitated but a second. He had asked himself the very same question. How could John not have noticed? It hadn’t been an easy problem to be figured out. Preston had also failed to detect the growing doubt in him, his partner. Partridge knew for sure that it wasn’t sympathy. Unlike himself, Preston’s dose was as accurate as it could be. Denial was the only logical explanation.
“I suppose,” he then answered, “you only ever find what you are looking for.”
This time, the Head of Clergy frowned. “Please elaborate.”
“What I’m saying is that one simply does not expect a sense offender among one’s close family members. One would think that the threat of being discovered is far too great. But perhaps the very opposite is the case. Maybe the sheer danger serves as a better disguise than anything else.” And to avoid Preston being accused of negligence on top of everything, he quickly added, “Also, we must not disregard the fact that Cleric Preston is one of our best enforcers and therefore has a very busy schedule. Viviana Preston was a working woman. I speak from experience when I say that two spouses spend less time together in one day than they spend in the company of their fellow citizens. Hence the question should not be ‘How is it that Cleric Preston came to miss it?’ but rather, ‘How is it that nobody else noticed?’ I reckon that my partner should be cleared of all charges.”
There was a moment of silence before the Head of Clergy dismissed Partridge with a wave of his hand. Stepping down, the Cleric took his allocated front row seat. Nobody spoke as the Head of Clergy, the new Head of Intelligence, and three selected members of Father’s Council retreated to a private chamber to make a decision.
Partridge briefly glanced around the courtroom. Robbie and Lisa Preston were seated across the room. They had been questioned before him, and each of them had given a testimony similar to his. Partridge’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he regarded them intently for a moment. Suddenly he found himself wondering what had gone on in Grace’s head when her mother had been killed.
Then his eyes met Preston’s. And for some reason, Partridge found him hard to read this time. Not that there had usually ever been much left open to interpretation. Preston’s mind often worked in ways that he did not understand. Some called it intuition, the gift to think like a sense offender without being one. But that had always been something different to what Partridge thought he saw now. He registered no obvious emotions, yet at the same time he did not exactly detect a complete absence of emotion. It seemed as though something was simmering under the surface, and he wondered if anyone else noticed.
‘If this is what under-medication feels like,’ Partridge thought, ‘what must it be like to really feel? The onslaught would have to be unbearable. How would you be able to function?’ Perhaps this was similar to Preston’s ‘intuition’. Beneath his black coat, he felt his skin crawl. He still had to figure out in which cat and mouse game he was apparently a player, still had to make a decision about his current… state. But it could wait. As far as he knew, nobody suspected anything yet.
Then the jury returned, and all those present rose.
“We have come to a decision,” the Head of Clergy announced. He paused briefly to make sure every single person in the room was paying attention. “Due to the testimonies we have heard, and due to the complete lack of evidence against the accused, we hereby proclaim Cleric John Preston cleared of all charges. As by his own wish, he will oversee his spouse’s sentence tomorrow morning at 9am. Further investigations will continue concerning Viviana Preston’s co-workers at the Evidentiary Department. This hearing is now closed.”
Partridge noticed how the strange, subtle constriction he’d felt in his chest was suddenly gone.
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Post by reveria on Aug 24, 2008 8:45:50 GMT -5
[3/3] 48 It was long past his bedtime, but Robbie Preston couldn’t sleep. He lay still in the silent darkness of his room, listening to his own breath as it entered and exited his body, acutely aware of his own thumping heartbeat. It was the first time in his life that he realized he was, in fact, a human being, the first time ever that he noticed he was actually alive. Or wasn’t he? He already wasn’t so sure. He was calm, of course, feeling nothing, but his intellect was dangerously close to hyperventilating. He was thinking about his mother. Where was she now? Was she cold? Was she frightened? Why he would ask himself these questions escaped his rational mind. He knew he shouldn’t be wondering about her. He had never doubted her, but she had let them all down. Himself, Lisa, and John. She was a sense offender, a traitor, a stain on the white vest of their great society. But he was confused. All his life, he had been taught that emotions were the root of all evil, that they were the breeding ground for hatred, jealousy, deceit and aggression. He had never questioned his father’s work, or the dogma of the Tetragrammaton. He was just a child, and he believed what he was taught, trusted in those assigned to take care of him. Father, and his mother and father. He never would have imagined one of them might be wrong. But his mother’s fate changed everything. Nothing made sense anymore. She had always been so serene, so patient, so… gentle. Perhaps it had been blind ignorance, but he’d attributed all this to Prozium. Retrospectively he saw that nobody who was on the dose could ever be like Viviana. There had been a sparkle in her eyes when she’d gotten up in the morning, one that he had never been able to pinpoint, as though there was something wonderful for which it was worth to get up. Little did he know that he was one third of this wonderful something. What he did know, however, was that no harm had ever been done. Nobody had been killed because of his mother’s emotions. Nobody had been injured, tricked or deprived. She had been a good mother, despite being off the dose. ‘Or maybe,’ a traitorous little voice suggested, ‘because she was off the dose.’ Robbie sat up in his bed. Quietly, he opened the drawer of his nightstand, taking out his PIU. It weighed heavily in his hand. There were three capsules left in it, and after a little while of staring at them, his eyes started to unfocus. In this darkness, the amber liquid looked grey, and this struck him as a rather powerful metaphor. All life sprung from the mother. Robbie knew that Prozium didn’t literally make a person dead. But he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Viviana had been a little more alive than the rest of them by removing this veil of grey. “What are you doing?” He turned his head when he heard Lisa’s tired whisper. She was lying on her side, the blanket up to her chin, looking at him. “Robbie?” she asked again when he didn’t answer right away. He bit his lip for a moment, then sighed very softly. “Do you think… this is good for us? The Prozium?” Lisa frowned, looking rather perplexed. “Of course it is. Father says so.” Robbie nodded. That was true. “I know, but…” He broke off. But what? He couldn’t explain it. There was a subtle reluctance in him that hadn’t been there before, a tiny splinter of doubt that somehow stung like a wedge. “I’ve always wondered how people lived before there was Prozium,” he eventually said. Lisa shrugged. “They were all killing each other.” “Mh…” Biting his lip again, he then shook his head. “You know, I don’t think so.” “Yes they were,” Lisa retorted. “No, listen,” Robbie insisted. “I know there were the wars. And the criminals. And the charlatans. But… the world was there long before Prozium was, you know? People were there for thousands and thousands of years before Libria was founded. And they lived. Somehow it must have worked.” “But people died!” Lisa kept at it. “People always die,” Robbie countered. “You can’t stop them from dying. What I mean is, even when there was no Prozium, even when people were killing each other, there must have been enough good ones to beat the bad ones. ‘cause the bad ones always want to murder everyone, burn everything and have everything for themselves. And if any one of them had ever achieved that, there would be no world left, you see?” Lisa thought for a moment. This was a lot to take in. “But… Hitler…” she murmured. “Hitler failed.” “No, he didn’t.” “Yes, he did. For ten years, he killed a lot of people. But then someone stood up to him. And afterwards, the world was kind of okay for a hundred years.” This time, Lisa was silent. “I mean, think of it,” Robbie continued after a long pause. “It was never the people that start the wars. It was always the government. They decided our people have to go kill other people for some stupid reason. They never asked us if we wanted to, did they?” “No… I guess not,” Lisa haltingly agreed. She wasn’t sure where this was going, didn’t fully understand it all, but it seemed to make an awful lot of sense. “So… you know, why should we listen to people who make us do wrong things? If they’re wrong about one thing, maybe they’re wrong about other things, too. Or maybe they aren’t wrong. Maybe they know what’s right and still tell us something different. And if they do that… don’t you think we have to disagree?” “You’re confusing me,” Lisa mumbled. Robbie sighed. He was talking exactly the way the words came to his mind, in a stream of consciousness. He’d already forgotten half of what he’d actually said. “Well… if I told you to kill someone, would you do it?” “Of course not.” “Why not?” “Because it’s wrong.” “But I’m your older brother. You must listen to me, and I told you so.” “Yes, but it’s wrong!” “I know, but I told you so.” “But it’s WRONG!” The next moment, Lisa covered her mouth with her hand. Had she really raised her voice? “See, that’s what I mean,” Robbie whispered. “Father tells us what to do, and we just have to do it. Everyone says emotions are bad. But what if they’re not?” “But they are.” Lisa’s head was beginning to spin. This was all a little too much for a five-year-old. “Maybe sometimes they are,” Robbie admitted. “But not always. When everyone still had emotions, there were a lot of good people. Much more good people than bad people, or we would all be dead.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “It’s like… if I do something wrong, you don’t get punished.” “Of course not,” Lisa snorted softly. “It wasn’t me who did something bad. They should punish you, and leave me be.” “Exactly,” he breathed. He looked at his PIU again, and then at his little sister. “Lisa,” he asked, “do you trust me?” to be continued...
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Post by Aedh on Aug 27, 2008 7:51:24 GMT -5
I see where this is going. You present the case for Sense-Offence well, Cleric ... *eyes narrow* ... very well indeed ...
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Post by reveria on Aug 29, 2008 6:39:08 GMT -5
hehe there's much, much more to come...
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Post by Aedh on Aug 29, 2008 7:17:17 GMT -5
hehe there's much, much more to come... Well, just remember, the Fifth Amendment is not Librian law.
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Post by clericjay on Aug 29, 2008 12:49:01 GMT -5
Very good work, as always. Only shorter as usual. I do love the scene with Robbie and Lisa. From my point of view this is the best scene of your story so far. ;D I love it and I could read it again and again and again and...
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Post by reveria on Sept 1, 2008 1:01:13 GMT -5
Very good work, as always. Only shorter as usual. I do love the scene with Robbie and Lisa. From my point of view this is the best scene of your story so far. ;D I love it and I could read it again and again and again and... thanks! that scene is one of my favourites too. next one coming soon!
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Post by reveria on Feb 12, 2010 12:15:22 GMT -5
wow, did I really say 'coming soon' over a year ago? sheesh. but I've added this to my 'revise and continue to finish' list for the summer
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Post by Mirabilis on Feb 12, 2010 12:55:40 GMT -5
wow, did I really say 'coming soon' over a year ago? sheesh. but I've added this to my 'revise and continue to finish' list for the summer Hey reveria! How you doing??? Good to know you're still out there. ;D
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Post by clericjay on Feb 18, 2010 2:19:58 GMT -5
Go on!!!! I want to know, how it's going to end!!! Seriously, good to have you back!"
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