Nicholas Smith - The Biomass Revolution

“Lana? What do you mean, you have Lana? She belongs to Varius. Spurious, you know that. What do you mean, she’s all you have, other than me?”

Spurious slouched in his seat, realizing he had never told Ing about Lana. In fact, he had never told anyone about Lana. What a perfect time to tell Ing about this, Spurious thought, frustrated.

“Ing, I’ve been meaning to tell you. I really have. I just didn’t ever know how to tell you that Lana and I have fallen for one another.”

Ing gasped. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Spurious. First, you’re questioning your loyalty to Tisaia, in public . And now you’re in love with the assistant to our supervisor ? What’s gotten into you?”

Spurious brought his finger to his lips. “Calm down. Don’t draw any attention to us. You know there could be an undercover CRK agent anywhere in here right now.”

“Spurious. I just don’t get it. You have the perfect life, a great job, a great flat. We have fun when we go out. You know you could find a wife through the regular process. Why do you have to put yourself in jeopardy?”

“The regular process? Ing, does that not seem a little odd to you? Do you really want the State telling you what you can eat, who you can marry and where you can travel? I mean, come on, when did you become so complacent? I don’t want to go fill out an application at the Sector for Love and Compassion and roll the dice, hoping they find me someone I’m compatible with. Lana is perfect for me. And we’ve been able to keep it a secret this far. I don’t want to go through the regular process with her. What if the State finds we’re not compatible, and decides we shouldn’t be together? Then what do I do? I love her!”

Ing rolled his eyes, and took a long swig of his ale. “I don’t know what to tell you. I just know if Varius finds out, you’re ruined. You’ll lose your job, and he will probably push the Council’s Office to prosecute you for crimes of passion.”

“I have already thought of this, and to be honest, I don’t care.”

“Well, it seems like tonight you don’t care about much at all, do you, Spurious?”

Spurious looked down at the table, using his sleeve to wipe it clean of ale. He thought again of what Leo told him only days before.

You have the ability to shape the future of Tisaia . Out of all people, how do I fight against a State that is so powerful, so ruthless? And through all of this, how do I keep Lana?

“Snap out of it, Spurious. I think we need to get out of here,” Ing said, nodding to alert him to two Royal Knights in full armor walking towards them. Spurious looked quickly over his shoulder and watched the Knights push their way through the crowded bar.

Ing and Spurious remained still; their eyes aimed at the table, hoping to evade any unnecessary attention.

“Do you think they’re really looking for us, Spurious?”

“Why the hell would they be looking for us, unless someone overheard us talking?”

“I really didn’t think we were being loud,” Ing shot back nervously.

“Well, what should we do?” Spurious asked.

“If they’re here for us, they will catch us eventually. We better just stay put.”

The two Royal Knights continued to push their way through the crowd, combing through patrons with their assault rifles. Their blue goggles glowed in the dark tavern, reminding Spurious of two large black owls descending on prey. With every beat of bass the Royal Knights moved closer to Spurious and Ing’s table. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The bass pounded louder as the Knights approached their table. Out of the corner of his eye Spurious watched the ghostly blue radiating out of their goggles. He swallowed and felt his heart tighten in his chest. He was sure now they were coming for him. He didn’t dare look up as the Knights moved closer.

Maybe he could outrun them, but what then? Where would he go? If they wanted him, they would find him. Ing was right. Spurious remained sitting and waited for the Knights to take him away. And just when they were almost on him, he saw them grab a straggly-looking man and drag him out of the tavern.

“No! I didn’t do anything wrong!” he screamed.

“You’re coming with us,” one of the Knights said, picking the man up by the back of his shirt and tossing him through the open door and into the dark night.

Spurious took a deep breath of relief, his chest heaving in and out. “Holy shit, that was close. I think it’s time to go home and get some rest,” he said, his heart finally returning to a normal pace.

“Damn, I really thought they were coming for us.” Ing said, his hand visibly shaking as he took another long swig of ale. He wiped the liquid off his mouth and stared across the table at his friend, a serious look painted on his semi-intoxicated face. “You better watch your back, especially with Lana. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too, Spurious. Losing Paulo is enough. Please promise me you won’t see her again.”

Spurious took one last swig from his mug. “I’m sorry, Ing, All I can promise you is that I’ll be careful.”

Ing rolled his eyes, pushing his chair back under the table. “You know your secret is safe with me,” he said, as he left to pay his tab.

Spurious watched his friend leave with a raised brow. “I sure hope so.”

Time: 2:31 a.m. January 31, 2071

Location: Office of the Royal Knight Commander. Lunia, Tisaia

It was two in the morning and the Commanding Royal Knight of Tisaia, Alexander Augustus, paced back and forth nervously in his quarters. His left hand grasped a half smoked cigar that bled a trail of smoke up into his nostrils. Two drops of sweat crept down the Knight’s forehead, finding their way into a scar that left a deep ravine down his left cheek. At the age of 45, the Knight had his fair share of scars. It was one reason he had gained his rank so quickly. Historically the Commanding Royal Knights were picked for their distinguished military role in Tisaia. There were only two before him, both assassinated before their second year of service. Augustus had already served two terms and was entering his third. He had survived two assassination attempts and knew the next one was probably imminent.

Four of his staff members sat around the marble war table in the center of his office. He watched his most trusted confidante, Chief of Staff Simmon, discussing recent events with his subordinates.

The candle light flickered in the dark room, illuminating the murals painted across the ceiling. The scene depicted the ancient battle of Thermopylae in 480BC, where the small and vastly outnumbered Spartan armies of Greece prevented the Persian army from following the main Greek army in their retreat. The mural was created at the beginning of his first term. After long work days he was known to lock the monstrous oak doors to his office, pour a glass of whiskey and study the mural from the comfort of his plush leather chair.

“Sir, with respect, I think we have enough information to shut down the trolley stations indefinitely. It appears this was not an isolated attack and our intelligence sources indicate there may be other impending attacks. I think the rebels have the capability of launching another attack on this scale again, at any time,” Staffer Marcus Mcaina argued.

Simmon did not respond. Instead his ocean blue eyes remained fixated on the holographic data streaming from a projector in the middle of the marble table. He studied the data, requesting the AI to move on after he had read one entry in its entirety. Behind him the Commander continued to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace that extended from the south wall of the room. As the sound of the minute hand on the grandfather clock clicked away, Simmon continued to read, analyzing the situation through every avenue he could think of. The uneasiness in the room faded away until the crack of a burning log in the fireplace brought Simmon to his feet.