Ch 2: The Red Head

Enter Taylor Lockheed, a rather low key "rebel" who mostly just wants to be left alone. So of course she runs into the commander of the army.

She remembered the day the “case worker” came to their humble abode to deliver the “good news.”

The woman in the business suit smiled. Taylor blinked, perplexed by this strange, non-blinking, teeth-showing, smiling lady who had rung the doorbell.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Aren’t you just the most adorable little thing?” the woman pinched her cheeks. She took a large step back. “And so polite too. Is this the Lockheed residence?”

“Yeah…”

The woman brushed passed her without even being invited in.

“Ma’am, who are you?”

“My name is Judy. I am caseworker all the way from the Capital.”

“A caseworker, all the way out here?” That wasn’t good. Caseworkers rarely were sent out this far from the Capital. According to Auburn, the only people worth special attention were either from the Capital or Rebels. She hoped that they didn’t think her family was the latter.

Judy didn’t seem to hear the question as she observed the living room before sitting down on the couch.

“Well, this place is… quite rustic.”

Sure, the house had been built fifteen years ago, but it was hardly what Taylor would call rustic. All the appliances were up to date and most of the technology was too. She closed the door and sat in another chair.

“If you say so, Ms. Judy. Are you here to talk to my parents? Sorry, but they’re not home right now.”

“Are you Taylor?”

“Yes…”

“Then I have very good news for you.”

Good news, from a caseworker from the Capital? There were just too many things wrong with the sentence to count. None the less, Taylor didn’t run out of there even though she wanted to. It wouldn’t do any good.

“Yes, Ms. Judy?”

“You are aware of the Vocational Program that recently went into effect for this region, correct?”

“Everyone’s heard about it.” And complained about it too. Who wanted to go all the way to the Capital to work?

“Congratulations, Taylor, you are one of the first to be inducted into it. We leave first thing tomorrow morning and you’ll have the start of you career by the end of the week.”

“Wait, what?”

--

She shook her head as she continued to walk down the street, hands in her pockets. That had only been three days ago.  Needless to say, her parents weren’t thrilled about it, despite what a great “honor” it was to be accepted into the program (despite the fact that she signed up for no such program). For all intent and purposes, she was being moved from her home to a place where the Government would become her new family so she wouldn’t have a reason to rebel.

“Pah, rebel? The most rebellious thing I ever did was have dessert instead of dinner once when my parents were gone,” she murmured to herself, “What makes me different from all my peers? All the smart ones just purposely bombed their test, which I should’ve done. But, would’ve it made any difference? I don’t know, and I honestly don’t care.”

To say that Taylor Lockheed was out of place in the Capital would be an accurate statement, yet a great understatement at the same time.

Taylor, nineteen years of age, was not from the Capital like most of the residents. In fact, she had never been to the Capital in her life. She was from the very southern tip of the country, far away from Lord Auburn’s watchful gaze, where the citizens often bent the laws. He merely allowed this to happen since he couldn’t afford to put many troops that far away. Plus it seemed like that this give and take was the one thing preventing them from fully rebelling. The last thing he needed to deal with was a rebel group who’s HQ was several hundred miles away. But he reminded them who was the boss once and a while, like the most recent Vocational Program.

As to why this particular Southerner was even the in Capital, well, it was actually Auburn’s doing, or at least a program he had passed. It was intended to bring those of certain IQ and personality type under the watchful eye of the Government so that they wouldn’t be able to gather an army or form some type of movement against Auburn. The program worked, for the most part. Those who were in it were given jobs that would keep them occupied and content so they wouldn’t even want to think about rebellion.  And the kicker? Those people knew that the program was designed to accomplish that, yet they didn’t seem to care.

Taylor was determined to stay out of that vicious cycle no matter what.

 The first day that she had arrived in the Capital, Ms. Judy showed her to the apartment where she would stay and begin the rest of her life. She wondered if the caseworker knew that it was more like ending her life than beginning it. Once she left, Taylor deposited the com she had received into the trash can and didn’t even bother unpacking. She spent the remainder of the afternoon coming up with a plan.

The second day, she went out as people went to work and school. She had tried to strike a conversation and ask a few questions with the people who lived in the complex with her, but she was ignored. She had heard the words “unlearned” and “non-conforming” whispered whenever she walked away, so she determined that she would need to go elsewhere for information.

No one was out, at all. All day, she searched, but no one turned up. She returned home and ate dinner, before heading straight to bed. It wasn’t like there was anything else to do.

Today, she found herself wandering once again. As before, the streets were completely deserted.

“All right, time to enact my “become a hobo” plan.  It’s better than turning into a sheeple, although I will miss the bed, the warm water, plumbing… This is a terrible plan, I can already tell.”

Despite all her walking, she seemed to be stuck in the housing district. The phone Ms. Judy had given her had a map in it, but she didn’t want to risk them tracking her location. Not a piece of technology was on her, only some money in her pocket.

She sighed as she walked down an alley way. The Capital, she had noticed, had very clean streets, despite having so many people live there, no doubt a result from the Vocational Program providing street cleaners.

Also, she had seen no grass or trees, just tall, metallic buildings that stretched forever into the sky. Most large cities which were not the Capital at least had a park and trees scattered about. This place was more barren that even the most western part of the country.

“No wonder the people who live here don’t have souls.”

“I’ll drink to that, Miss.”

A voice startled her out of her rant. Casting a glance to the side, she spotted a man in a raggedy coat and black beanie. He held a piece of chalk in his hand. In his other, he held a bottle of something. Taylor stopped and stood in front of him.

“I was beginning to think everyone was gone.”

“Oh, there are a few people around here that don’t go into work until later and there’s a group of us homeless people that hang out in the sewers in our own little community.” He cracked a small smile. “You’re a Southerner, aren’t you?”

“My accent is a dead give-away, isn’t it?”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed about. This place could use a bit of diversity from the usual drones that dwell in this hellhole.”

For a minute, she questioned her sanity in doing so, but she went and sat down next to the man.

“Perhaps you can answer my questions; no one else seemed to be interested in them.”

He took a drink from his bottle.

“Are you kidding? I love answering questions! That was my job, until seven years ago that is.”

“What did you used to do?”

“I used to be a professor at a local university.”

“What’d you teach?”

“Philosophy.”

She made a face.

“Ugh, no offence, but I’m glad I didn’t take that class.”

“It’s alright. It’s not for everyone.” He held his hand out. “Everyone just calls me Socrates, although I don’t really adhere to his teachings. I think it was one of the only philosophers that people remember.”

“Taylor Lockheed from Kamarra, Gabor.” She took his hand and shook it. “You honestly don’t look like a Greek Philosopher. You don’t have the beard or the bed sheet.”

“No, I don’t.” Socrates glanced at his bottle. “I’d offer you some, but I don’t want to spread germs and I’m pretty sure that you’re underage.”

“So let me guess, when Auburn took over you were cut because your subject was an unnecessary one?”

“No, I and some of the other professors got cut because we didn’t agree with Auburn. As far as I know, the school still has Philosophy; it just doesn’t cover them all.”

She nodded. Even in Kamarra, the education system didn’t seem to be as informative as it had been five years ago, before what was known now as the Southern Sector had been annexed into the country.

“One question, Socrates. Yesterday, I didn’t see anybody after quitting time. Why is that?”

“They all go to the Entertainment Mile to have dinner and fun.” He shook his head and let out a weary sigh. “Bread and circuses at its finest, most effective state. If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here, in the Capital?”

“Vocational Program,” she huffed, shifting a little, “I’d rather be a hobo.”

“I see.”

“By the way, what’s with the chalk?”

“Oh this? I’m drawing a badger on trash cans for the Rebels for some cash.”

“I’ve heard of the Rebels. Can’t really say I like them though. They remind me too much of the guerillas that used to be in places in the older days.”

“Not all of them are like that, but they seem to be on the rise. They blame Auburn and the Force for making them result to such tactics, but honestly, they’ve lost sight of their original goal and refuse to admit. I’d just stay away from all of them if I were you. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell the good ones from the rotten.”

“Why aren’t you drawing a badger then?”

“I’m waiting for the air to clear. Early, I got caught by a member of the Force.” He sighed. “Luckily for me, it was Commander Mordred.”

She blinked in shock.

“Wait, you mean Commander Mordred as in the cyborg?”

Even as far removed from the Capital as Kamarra had been, everyone had heard of Commander Mordred of the Force. Taylor had never been one to listen to the rumors about him, but she did know that he wasn’t entirely organic. All she knew was that you did not want to mess with him.

“Yep, him.” Socrates took another long drink. “Despite what rumors you might’ve heard about him, he’s more human than most of the ones who serve under him.”

“Is it true that he’s completely emotionless?”

“As far as anyone can tell, yes. But while that lack emotion makes him an effective killing machine if given the order by his “Master”,” he spat the word out as if it burned his tongue to even say that. “That also means he won’t do anything he’s not ordered to, unlike some other members of the Force. Since he had no order to eliminate me and I wasn’t doing anything illegal, he let me go. I shudder to think of what would have happened if it had been someone else.”

“Any advice on how to become a hobo?”

Socrates frowned and gave a short bitter laugh.

“If you were a normal denizen, then I could. But since you’re here with a Vocational Program, they won’t stop until they find you. Although I must admit, you’re the first one I’ve met who’d rather become a hobo than at least give it a shot. If you stay low, maybe they’ll forget about you.”

“I honestly just want to take off for Kamarra, but I have a feeling that would be one of the first places they would check.”

“You’re probably right. I’d offer you a place, but I’m not sure the others would agree. Mostly the Force leaves us alone and doesn’t bother us down there, and the others want to keep it that way. Bringing you might change that.”

Taylor sighed and set her head on her knees.

“I know. I just… This can’t be all I’m good for. If I go along with the program, they’ll probably stick me in some engineering section since I’m good at math. I hate math.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I like… art and drawing, but I want to do things I want to do, not things that the state tells me to do. I’m not a propaganda machine. And I don’t really want to have a job in art. Maybe something like secretary work or something.”

Socrates stood up.

“I wish you the best of luck and look forward to seeing one of your art pieces someday, when things are better. I’m off to draw more badgers.”

“Thanks for answering my questions.”

“Not a problem.” He began walking away. “Oh, and Taylor? If you do get caught, just be yourself. That’s what the state hates the most.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Socrates. I hope we meet again someday.”

He smiled before slinking off.

Taylor stayed in that spot for several minutes, musing over what she had learned and what she should do. Eventually, she just started walking around again, letting the setting melt away. Normally, she would never allow herself to relax in a strange place, but she figured it was safe enough since barely anybody was around.

What to do, what to do? Trapped in the middle of the Capital with no friends, no future, and the soon to be breathing down her neck Government. This certainly wasn’t what she ever wanted her future to be.

She could remember so clearly five years ago, before then annexation. The possibilities seemed endless. Nothing could stop her. Then the Force rolled in and Auburn came and gave a speech, and then things changed. She was just glad that the change didn’t affect her region as much as it had affected others that had been annexed before them. Things were basically the same, expect for the things that weren’t. Most would admit that it wasn’t the most optimal position to be in, but it was better than it could’ve been.

Suddenly, a noise not too far away caught her attention. Taylor rounded the corner to go check on it until she heard an explosion. Seeking shelter in case debris started flying, she did the first thing that came to mind, diving into a dumpster. Okay, not the most clean or well thought out idea, but people often underestimated the durability of the common dumpster. After all, they were constantly being bashed into by vehicles without taking much damage. It would provide adequate cover. A few minutes later, she heard another explosion and decided to stay in the safety of her dumpster for a bit longer.

Taylor failed to realize that she nodded off until something nabbed her shirt and roughly her yanked out. She quickly reached back, grabbing an arm and shifting her body, so that her mysterious assailant smacked into the wall beside the dumpster. She hadn’t even heard what he was trying to say, being too busy getting whomever it was off.

Her assailant stood back up, not fazed by the contact with the wall. The dark haired man turned around, looking straight at him. Taylor could tell that he was observing her, sizing her up. She raised her fist, letting him know that if he attacked again, that she would be ready for him. Despite the fact that they trembled some, they would still be useful to her.

“Don’t touch me!” she exclaimed, voice trembling for only a second, much to her distaste, “I might not look like much, but I can pack a punch.”

The man raised his hands, as if he were surrendering. She observed him careful and found him unarmed, besides something hanging off his belt. She assumed that it was not a weapon since he didn’t even make a move toward it. Or perhaps he didn’t really want to fight at all. Her heart continued to do a rhumba and her breathing was short and choppy.

“I mean no harm to you,” he stated, “I thought that you might be a Rebel hiding. We were attacked earlier, so I did not want to take a chance.”

She considered his words and then looked at him carefully. He wore a familiar yet unfamiliar piece of clothing, a Force member’s uniform. Since he obviously hadn’t come for a fight and didn’t have any backup around, she relaxed her stance.

“I didn’t realize you were part of the Force. I don’t normally make it a habit of throwing people into walls…”

“No, the error was mine. Why were you in the trashcan?”

She set her jaw and glared at him.

“It’s really none of your business. If you excuse me…”

Taylor began to walk past him. Suddenly, a vice grip seized her arm, stopping her in her tracks. She mentally berated herself for not keeping up her defenses. She expected to be pulled back, but that never happened.

 “I was not finished speaking to you. What were you doing in the trashcan?”

This guy was persistent, wasn’t he? She didn’t know why a member of the Force would care so much about why someone was hiding in a trashcan, but for some odd reason, this fellow did.

“Fine, if you have to know the reasoning behind every single thing I do, then I’ll tell you if you let go of my arm. You’re crushing it.”

 He obliged.

“Thank you. I was taking cover from that attack earlier.”

“You saw the attack?”

Great, more questions. She just hopped he didn’t ask for her name or what she was doing out instead of being at work, or school in the case that he, like many other people, underestimated her age.

“Only the very beginnings of it. It’s not too smart to stand out in the open when things are exploding, you know.”

He just continued to stare at her, as if his brain took a bit to process the information. She stared at his eyes, noticing that they seemed to be more of a bright neon green instead of a more natural green. Did he have cyber-organic eyes? She had known someone in her home town that was born without an eye and had received an implant that looked exactly like that. This man also seemed to have an incredibly strong grip, despite that fact that he looked no bigger than an average sized man.

It hit her. This was none other than Commander Mordred himself. She hadn’t expected him to look so… human. She started searching for an exit in case she needed to run and began avoiding his gaze. When the staring got to be a bit much, she started shifting her feet in an attempt to keep calm.

“I see.”

Much to her relief, he let go and folded his hands behind his back.

“If that is all, then you would not mind if I took you to HQ so we can take down your account.”

Her heart started to run a marathon.

“Can’t we do it here?”

“We do not have the proper recording equipment here. Is there a reason you do not want to go to HQ?”

She glanced at her exit and took off. Taylor didn’t even stop until she couldn’t run anymore. Since she hadn’t been caught, she figured that Mordred had not followed her.

Now what? Sure, he didn’t know her name, but if he saw her picture, he would more than likely recognize her. It was simple then. All she needed to do was avoid people until the heat was off. A piece of cake. As easy as pie. What was she doing?