Terosan Tales, Page 3
Edward Thomson
Within a few breaths of time passing more kids had joined the fray. Punching and kicking was just the beginning; it was followed by hair pulling, biting, scratching, elbowing and other forms of petty fighting. Qev noted that Sellicia had stood back out of harm’s way.
Two dark-blue uniformed police troopers encroached upon the fighting children. Helmets on; visors down. Their well-shaven chins gleamed from beneath the visors. A green and a yellow set of lips were revealed gritted teeth from both officers. Rail guns holstered. Stun batons covered. An outstretched glove protruded into the crowd of fighting children and grabbed someone around the shoulder, but Qevon couldn’t see who.
“Desist!” the officer shouted before emitting a short pulse from siren on his wrist. It reminded Qevon of his alarm clock. He froze in terror and his covered his ears. The alarm was only momentary but he felt the need to shut his eyes until the fighting stopped.
Keth approached, his lips were burst and his cheeks bruised, despite this he smiled ear-to-ear. Keth loved fighting; he was bigger and stronger than most other kids. It was like nothing had happened, the other kids followed behind Keth and gathered next to Qevon. Chatter resumed and the officers disappeared back into the crowds.
A red-skinned boy from the other team produced a clear piece of plastic film from his pocket and slapped it against the walkway barricade.
“What’s that?” Qevon asked as he looked up from his crouched position. The film stuck without slipping.
“Polyfilm, obviously. My brother showed me how to etch my name into it. We covered a wall on that tower with jokes,” the boy pointed west towards a faraway tower.
Qevon stood up to look at the polyfilm, but couldn’t see it. He ran a finger over the clear film. He could barely see it and the texture provided no grip for his finger. When the sun stuck the film just right the dark coloured wall shimmered unnaturally; it was the only way to see the film.
“How are you supposed to read it?” Qevon asked.
“You need goggles, but to write on it you need an etching pen,” the boy answered.
“I have an etching pen,” Sellicia announced and stepped forward. She produced the pen from her pocket and began to write over the newly placed polyfilm. “You don’t need goggles but it helps. The words shine when you wear the goggles.”
“We should all put our names on the deck’s wall,” Keth said.
“Nah, we’ll get caught,” Aldon said, “need to go behind a wall… or somewhere quiet…”
“The walls of the Express Port,” Sellicia beamed with her suggestion.
“But that’s dwn on level 10,” Qev whimpered. He knew his father would disapprove.
“It’s fine, I’ve been down before,” she boasted.
“Me too,” Keth added. Qevon looked at his friend’s raised eyebrows, he suspected that was a lie.
Moments later the crowd of kids from the magball game filled the bank of elevators and descended to deck 10. A few had flaked off and gone home but at least eight remained. Qevon, Keth, Sellicia, Aldon, Monor, Artoc and a few more exited on to deck 10. The fighting had been completely forgotten by now. Qevon discovered that the red-skinned boy with the polyfilm was Sandar, an older boy from the same academy.
A shuttle accelerated and escaped from sight. The Express Port quietened just after the train left. Clear plas-walls separated the monorail from the crowded walkway. Dozens and dozens of adults had gathered on the platform waiting for the next train. So far the kids hadn’t been noticed. Many adults read news on their datapads or stared into space.
“Look the plas-walls are covered in polyfilm,” Keth pointed out. Myriad strips of polyfilm littered the clear wall of the shuttle tube. A criss-cross lattice of defaced film made it almost impossible to read what anyone had written. “Give me the pen,” Keth demanded. Sandar obliged.
“What are you writing?” Artoc asked.
“Keth was here,” Keth laughed.
Sandar grabbed the pen then added his own name, he wrote on one of the polystrips which was already there. Sellicia followed, then Monor. Keth decided to write his name twice more. Despite this hive of activity none of the passers-by seemed to notice. Not even a grumble. Nothing. They pushed past each other on the walkways then stood frozen on the platforms.
Some others loitered with no aspiration to do anything or go anywhere. Qev wondered if these were the people his dad warned about. A small group of people dressed in rags sat in a dark and secluded area behind one of the plas-tunnels. ‘Watch out of the homeless on deck 10’ his father had once warned. Not that his father had ever expected him to be down here.
The free-roaming litter, dirty walkways and dank air from the Express Port created a feeling
of unease. No light shone from the darkened passageways where the homeless hid. It seemed obvious that the hanging lightstrips needed to be replaced, yet they looked old as if though they hadn’t been attended to for years.
“Qev, write your name,” Keth extended a hand and offered a pen, “come on, you won’t get caught.”
Qevon reluctantly grabbed the pen and rushed a quick scribble at the nearest section of wall.
“Hey!” An angry voice shouted across the walkway. Qevon drove the pen into a jacket pocket. He wondered how anyone had seen him, he thought he had been quick enough to avoid getting caught. As he hid the pen in his jacket he looked over to where the voice had come from. A group of teenagers approached. Most of them yellow and green-skinned youths with a near even mix of male and female.
“What ya doin’ here?” one of the them shouted. Another from the group laughed.
“Leave them Kam,” said one of the females.
“Writing on our walls, are you?” Kam said,” That’s our wall and you kids don’t have a right to come here and write on our walls. You understand? Only we can write on our walls.”
“Nah, wasn’t us,” Keth blurted defensively, “was already written on before we got here.”
“We can write on our walls, but not you.”
“Kam, just let them be,” the same female voice as before. A few of the males ignored the advice and converged upon the Keth and the others. Qevon cowered tight against the wall and began to itch at his arms again.
“Yeah, just let us be,” Keth said.
“Shut up!” Qevon shouted at Keth.
Kam grabbed Keth by the collar and pulled him to stare eye-to-eye. Shouting and swearing gushed from Kam’s mouth, and it was the first time that Qev had seen Keth look scared. Qevon clenched his legs together. Monor ran towards the elevators in the tower lobby but no one else followed.
Qev scratched again and then felt an odd ripping sensation in his arm. He looked down and saw his biochip covered in blood and lying on the floor. He covered the wound and held it tightly closed.
“Your chip,” Sellicia pointed, “you better put it back in or they’ll think you’re dead.”
“What are you two talking about?” one of the teens next to Kam shouted over. He came and stood over the pair of them, “Stop talking! you’ve no chance of escaping now, you better give us all your money and we’ll let you walk away.”
Unknowingly the newcomer had stood on Qev’s biochip and crushed it. Sellicia gasped and Qevon welled up with tears. The central system of Terosan would detect that Qevon had just died. At least that’s what the computer would naively conclude. Before either he or she could reply the teen had grabbed Sellicia by the hair. She screamed in pain and stumbled backwards.
“Stop!” A voice from nowhere shouted above the noise of the fray. A large red arm passed near Sellicia’s face. The grip on her hair had loosed and she looked up to see a stout red-skinned man pushing the teen away from her. This man had grabbed the teen by the neck and began to shout at him. Another teen tried to punch the would-be hero but failed to connect.
“Police!” Sellicia shouted. Four officers ran down the walkway with rail-pistols in hand. In an instant it was over. The group of teens dispersed but laughed as they ran away.
Qevon screa
med as the red-skinned man crashed to the solid walkway floor. Red blood oozed from the cracked red skin. A round hole had been made in the man’s skull.
“No!” Sellicia shouted and waved her arms. She cried along with Qevon as they saw that the police had shot the man who had come to their rescue.
The officers had escorted the children home and Qevon was taken straight to hospital to have his biochip replaced. Crannor arrived at the hospital but was so relieved that he overlooked the fact that Qevon had ignored his rules.
Qevon wailed in his father’s arms, “he saved us dad, he saved and he was the one who died.”
“I know son, I know.” Crannor replied as he held his son tightly.
Two dark-blue uniformed police troopers encroached upon the fighting children. Helmets on; visors down. Their well-shaven chins gleamed from beneath the visors. A green and a yellow set of lips were revealed gritted teeth from both officers. Rail guns holstered. Stun batons covered. An outstretched glove protruded into the crowd of fighting children and grabbed someone around the shoulder, but Qevon couldn’t see who.
“Desist!” the officer shouted before emitting a short pulse from siren on his wrist. It reminded Qevon of his alarm clock. He froze in terror and his covered his ears. The alarm was only momentary but he felt the need to shut his eyes until the fighting stopped.
Keth approached, his lips were burst and his cheeks bruised, despite this he smiled ear-to-ear. Keth loved fighting; he was bigger and stronger than most other kids. It was like nothing had happened, the other kids followed behind Keth and gathered next to Qevon. Chatter resumed and the officers disappeared back into the crowds.
A red-skinned boy from the other team produced a clear piece of plastic film from his pocket and slapped it against the walkway barricade.
“What’s that?” Qevon asked as he looked up from his crouched position. The film stuck without slipping.
“Polyfilm, obviously. My brother showed me how to etch my name into it. We covered a wall on that tower with jokes,” the boy pointed west towards a faraway tower.
Qevon stood up to look at the polyfilm, but couldn’t see it. He ran a finger over the clear film. He could barely see it and the texture provided no grip for his finger. When the sun stuck the film just right the dark coloured wall shimmered unnaturally; it was the only way to see the film.
“How are you supposed to read it?” Qevon asked.
“You need goggles, but to write on it you need an etching pen,” the boy answered.
“I have an etching pen,” Sellicia announced and stepped forward. She produced the pen from her pocket and began to write over the newly placed polyfilm. “You don’t need goggles but it helps. The words shine when you wear the goggles.”
“We should all put our names on the deck’s wall,” Keth said.
“Nah, we’ll get caught,” Aldon said, “need to go behind a wall… or somewhere quiet…”
“The walls of the Express Port,” Sellicia beamed with her suggestion.
“But that’s dwn on level 10,” Qev whimpered. He knew his father would disapprove.
“It’s fine, I’ve been down before,” she boasted.
“Me too,” Keth added. Qevon looked at his friend’s raised eyebrows, he suspected that was a lie.
Moments later the crowd of kids from the magball game filled the bank of elevators and descended to deck 10. A few had flaked off and gone home but at least eight remained. Qevon, Keth, Sellicia, Aldon, Monor, Artoc and a few more exited on to deck 10. The fighting had been completely forgotten by now. Qevon discovered that the red-skinned boy with the polyfilm was Sandar, an older boy from the same academy.
A shuttle accelerated and escaped from sight. The Express Port quietened just after the train left. Clear plas-walls separated the monorail from the crowded walkway. Dozens and dozens of adults had gathered on the platform waiting for the next train. So far the kids hadn’t been noticed. Many adults read news on their datapads or stared into space.
“Look the plas-walls are covered in polyfilm,” Keth pointed out. Myriad strips of polyfilm littered the clear wall of the shuttle tube. A criss-cross lattice of defaced film made it almost impossible to read what anyone had written. “Give me the pen,” Keth demanded. Sandar obliged.
“What are you writing?” Artoc asked.
“Keth was here,” Keth laughed.
Sandar grabbed the pen then added his own name, he wrote on one of the polystrips which was already there. Sellicia followed, then Monor. Keth decided to write his name twice more. Despite this hive of activity none of the passers-by seemed to notice. Not even a grumble. Nothing. They pushed past each other on the walkways then stood frozen on the platforms.
Some others loitered with no aspiration to do anything or go anywhere. Qev wondered if these were the people his dad warned about. A small group of people dressed in rags sat in a dark and secluded area behind one of the plas-tunnels. ‘Watch out of the homeless on deck 10’ his father had once warned. Not that his father had ever expected him to be down here.
The free-roaming litter, dirty walkways and dank air from the Express Port created a feeling
of unease. No light shone from the darkened passageways where the homeless hid. It seemed obvious that the hanging lightstrips needed to be replaced, yet they looked old as if though they hadn’t been attended to for years.
“Qev, write your name,” Keth extended a hand and offered a pen, “come on, you won’t get caught.”
Qevon reluctantly grabbed the pen and rushed a quick scribble at the nearest section of wall.
“Hey!” An angry voice shouted across the walkway. Qevon drove the pen into a jacket pocket. He wondered how anyone had seen him, he thought he had been quick enough to avoid getting caught. As he hid the pen in his jacket he looked over to where the voice had come from. A group of teenagers approached. Most of them yellow and green-skinned youths with a near even mix of male and female.
“What ya doin’ here?” one of the them shouted. Another from the group laughed.
“Leave them Kam,” said one of the females.
“Writing on our walls, are you?” Kam said,” That’s our wall and you kids don’t have a right to come here and write on our walls. You understand? Only we can write on our walls.”
“Nah, wasn’t us,” Keth blurted defensively, “was already written on before we got here.”
“We can write on our walls, but not you.”
“Kam, just let them be,” the same female voice as before. A few of the males ignored the advice and converged upon the Keth and the others. Qevon cowered tight against the wall and began to itch at his arms again.
“Yeah, just let us be,” Keth said.
“Shut up!” Qevon shouted at Keth.
Kam grabbed Keth by the collar and pulled him to stare eye-to-eye. Shouting and swearing gushed from Kam’s mouth, and it was the first time that Qev had seen Keth look scared. Qevon clenched his legs together. Monor ran towards the elevators in the tower lobby but no one else followed.
Qev scratched again and then felt an odd ripping sensation in his arm. He looked down and saw his biochip covered in blood and lying on the floor. He covered the wound and held it tightly closed.
“Your chip,” Sellicia pointed, “you better put it back in or they’ll think you’re dead.”
“What are you two talking about?” one of the teens next to Kam shouted over. He came and stood over the pair of them, “Stop talking! you’ve no chance of escaping now, you better give us all your money and we’ll let you walk away.”
Unknowingly the newcomer had stood on Qev’s biochip and crushed it. Sellicia gasped and Qevon welled up with tears. The central system of Terosan would detect that Qevon had just died. At least that’s what the computer would naively conclude. Before either he or she could reply the teen had grabbed Sellicia by the hair. She screamed in pain and stumbled backwards.
“Stop!” A voice from nowhere shouted above the noise of the fray. A large red arm passed near Sellicia’s face. The grip on her hair had loosed and she looked up to see a stout red-skinned man pushing the teen away from her. This man had grabbed the teen by the neck and began to shout at him. Another teen tried to punch the would-be hero but failed to connect.
“Police!” Sellicia shouted. Four officers ran down the walkway with rail-pistols in hand. In an instant it was over. The group of teens dispersed but laughed as they ran away.
Qevon screa
med as the red-skinned man crashed to the solid walkway floor. Red blood oozed from the cracked red skin. A round hole had been made in the man’s skull.
“No!” Sellicia shouted and waved her arms. She cried along with Qevon as they saw that the police had shot the man who had come to their rescue.
The officers had escorted the children home and Qevon was taken straight to hospital to have his biochip replaced. Crannor arrived at the hospital but was so relieved that he overlooked the fact that Qevon had ignored his rules.
Qevon wailed in his father’s arms, “he saved us dad, he saved and he was the one who died.”
“I know son, I know.” Crannor replied as he held his son tightly.
