Redecoration

A science fiction splurge of deceit and dystopia.

It was cold and impenetrably dark as it had been for at least the three days that he thought he had been there. The stench of his toilet bucket had forced him to fashion a scarf out of his shirt to serve as a mask. His wife’s perfume still lingered there and every indrawn breath caused his heart to weep with longing. As there was nothing else to occupy his mind his thoughts wandered to his unfinished work. Numbers flew past his unseeing eyes, breaking down, adding up, and performing perverse somersaults in seconds. Most found the job of accounting dull but there was something in the way the numbers worked for him, there were times when he felt that they were the only things to make sense.
    A scraping sound to the left heralded the arrival of the slop, which served as one of his two meals a day. It was tasteless yet ensured the stomach was filled and sated. Unfortunately its exit from the body was a painful and messy ordeal and the less that was eaten the easier on the insides it became. An opening the size of a letterbox allowed a brilliant light into the room. Its walls were painted black and the floor, through all the dirt and grime, may once have been white. Other than his body and the bucket he had presumed was his toilet there was nothing else, but he knew this already. Without sight he had relied on his sense of touch to explore his cell. The smooth walls and seamless metal doorway had squashed all hope of escape. If there had been bricks in the walls or tiles on the floor he could have used his fingers to pry then loose but he could not recall a film where the prisoner had succeeded in escaping a room such as this without having super powers.
    A baton was thrust through the hole, waved menacingly around to ensure he stayed well back before a meaty hand pushed a metal bowl onto the ledge. A sharp grunt was issued before the hatch was snapped shut and the blinding light quenched. He would wait before touching the bowl; its contents would be easier to swallow cold as opposed to the shiver inducing warmth.
    Years had passed since the first ship had landed on England’s shores. The origins of the people disembarking and the thousands that followed had never been fully explained but together with the foolhardy government, they had earned the love and trust of the subdued population. Promises of improvement, a brighter, more secure future for all. There were rumours of arguments against the newcomers but there was never any mention on the news in or out of the cities. No changes occurred in the normal lives to begin with, commuters still commuted and workdays still passed painstakingly slowly.
    Only a few important personages in the business of running the country knew who the newcomers were, and what they intended for the large island. At first they had been loudly opposed, threatening the group and demanding their swift departure. When their numbers began to swell and their sweet words washed away the doubt, the politicians forgot all of their qualms that they had formed. Announcements were made to the public, warning of changes that would be made but promising the solidarity of the country and the ease that would accompany the transition. Life continued unhindered and so the public did not wait in anticipation if they had paid any mind to it at all.
    Gigantic, obtrusive constructs appeared all over the countryside with no explanation pertaining to their existence. An increased number of the newcomers, who looked no different from the masses, became notable within the workplaces and leisure spots. They worked and played as any other, merely another assimilation of culture and peoples under the British flag.
    Panic struck on a misty, Tuesday morning. The newcomers appeared in black armour and helmets clutching long, sturdy batons. Vans were parked en mass on every street, in every collection of people. Strangers were grabbed roughly from their beds, transportation and offices to be herded together and forced into the spacious vans. Driven to the newly erected and hardly aesthetic buildings, they were tagged and collected into pens of forty to fifty other startled, confused and outraged fellow captives. Large screens were pinned to the outer walls facing the pens. The Prime Minister’s winning smile showered down upon them. Threatening and scared voices were quietened as he began to speak.
    “I know that you all must be very frightened, angry even. This is understandable. You have been brought here to allow the cleansing of the country without harm coming to any of you. We could not risk the possibility of any resistance, as it is imperative that we allow our new friends to do us this great service. Thanks must be given to those that arrived on the ships those many years ago, as they have provided us with the reason and means to raise this country to the standards that we all deserve. Your homes will not be harmed nor any property of any kind, each of you, irrelevant of age, will be given a sum of five thousand pounds in compensation on the completion of the restoration. You will all be allocated rooms, which we must insist that you be confined to for no more than four days. You, the people, are the greatest of our concerns. Upon your return to your normal lives you will witness grand sites and experience the fullest of lives imaginable. For your own good you must co-operate with the guards and any queries you have will be answered shortly. To commence this momentous occasion will you please join me in singing our national anthem, that which unites us and ensures our improved future.”
   Very few hands rose to chests and the gracious tune had no hope of being heard above the turmoil that ensued.
    Counting seconds, minutes, and hours as precisely as he thought possible, time seemed to pass. With the numbers flowing through his brain he managed to not worry too much about his loving wife and two young children. They would not have been split up he was faithfully sure of it. 
    More days passed by with no change to the daily routine. The Prime Minister made no more announcements, no word at all from the outside made its way in. Britain’s population was in darkness, seperated and secure.
    Changes were quickly being undertaken, improvements and advancements to suit the needs of others than the native inhabitants. The sky changed from cloudy blue to clear red, hills were flattened, and buildings were moved closer together to form one gigantic cluster in the centre of the once proud isle.
   The now vacant land was tilled by automated machines that stood miles high, strange buds burst from the ground in mere hours. By the third day row upon row of crops had grown bearing multicoloured fruits and grains. Thousands of previously concreted land turned arable in the space of four days. Satellite images would show England alive with colour, traversing the entire spectrum. As soon as the crops were ready for harvesting, the newcomers would release the people and set them to work. Their gruel had been heavily mixed with a synthetic drug to induce a constant state of subservience. There would be no complaints, only a working business destined for profit.