Nicholas Smith - The Biomass Revolution

“I was coming to talk to you!” he exclaimed.

Ajax pounded one of his fists into the brick wall. “You could have led those Tin Cans right to us!” he said.

“I’m sorry, but I can help you. I know things.” Leo pleaded.

Obi stepped towards the old man, pushing Ajax out of the way. “What could you possibly know that could help us?”

A sense of hope glimmered in Leo’s eyes. “I know of someone you two would be very interested in. A man named Spurious who works in the Sector of Government Services. His parents…” Leo paused, his eyes darting back and forth from Ajax to Obi. “His parents were the founders of the TDU!” Leo exclaimed.

Obi shot Ajax a quick glance. “What do you know of this man?” he asked.

“I came across him a few weeks back. He travels to Rohania every couple days to meet with his lover.”

Ajax cut him off. “How do you know these things?”

“I know everything in Rohania and everyone.” Leo said, grinning.

Ajax slammed Leo back into the wall. “I don’t trust him, boss.”

“We don’t have a choice. This Spurious sounds just like the person we’re looking for. If he does work for SGS, he probably knows the tunnel system, and he could help us get access.”

Ajax frowned. “I don’t like this. He’s nothing more than a crazy old man,” Ajax said venomously.

“We have to trust him for now,” Obi responded.

Ajax nodded and let Leo back down, patting the dust off his shoulders.

“Lead the way, old man.” Obi said, following Leo down the dark alleyway.

Time: 12:05 p.m. February 23, 2071.

Location: Sector of Governmental Services. Lunia, Tisaia

A powerful rain beat the metal roof of the SGS building. Spurious typed busily on his blue screen. The steady downpour sounded like dancing feet, reminding him of Paulo and his love for salsa.

He frowned and pulled up a new screen of tunnel blueprints, desperately trying to put Lana and Paulo out of his mind. It was of no use; his thoughts would betray him no matter how hard he tried.

He turned to look at Archie and began to consider his options with Lana. There were only two. They could escape to Rohania and try to survive with the help of strangers until they were able to procure secure jobs, or they could leave Tisaia and take their chances in the Wastelands.

Spurious recalled a confidential document he came across years ago. It was a map of several tunnel systems in underground Lunia. There was a sporadic red ‘X’ marked in multiple locations, indicating what he thought were potential TDU hideouts. After digging a bit deeper, Spurious found they weren’t TDU related at all. They were locations State employees were caught trying to escape Tisaia and into the Wastelands. He remembered the shock when the dozens of red splotches finally made sense. There were others out there just like him, longing to escape the monotony of their lives and the State controlling them. Every dot represented someone willing to risk everything to escape.

Archie swam to the top of his bowl, his tiny lips pecking at the fragments of food at the surface. Spurious watched him, wondering if he too felt trapped in his small world. He thought back to his options, neither seeming very realistic.

Leaving Tisaia, even with his knowledge of the tunnel systems, would probably result in another red dot on the map. Except this time, there would be two—one for him and one for Lana, something he wouldn’t let happen.

Rohania, on the other hand seemed more plausible, especially if he could make some contacts there ahead of time.

His stomach growled, reminding him he had skipped lunch.

Maybe I’ll go for a short walk, he thought, turning off his blue screen and heading for the stairs. The stifling concrete staircase was filled with the scent of bleach, recently cleaned by a crew of service workers. As he descended the last few floors and headed for the lobby exit, a voice rang out over the silence. “Hi, Spurious!”

He turned to see Cleoa working from behind the same oval receptionist desk where she had been the day he started at SGS. The only difference was a few more grays in her curtain of hair. Her smile always reminded him of those first few days when he walked through the sea of endless cubicles, meeting rooms, and the cafeteria, all reeking of bleach. It was that first day he realized the building felt like a prison, one in which he would spend the rest of his life.

Spurious waved at Cleoa quickly, eager to escape the building. He pushed the lobby doors open and stepped outside, taking in a long breath of air. Slowly the scent of bleach faded only to be replaced with the fresh aroma of rain. He opened his eyes to see a curtain of sleet falling to the ground. The climatologists were wrong again, forecasting a mostly clear afternoon.

Spurious sighed, heading back into the building with his head tucked in his collar. He passed several other workers on his way to the stairs and entered the hallway, catching a glimpse of Lana out of the corner of his eye. Quickly, he hid behind one of the thick concrete pillars lining the hallway. He glanced around the edge; inconspicuously as possible, his face rubbing against the cool rough surface of the concrete.

Half way down the hall he could see Lana, her head pointed at the ground as Varius yelled at her. Other employees hurried past, ignoring them.

Spurious pulled himself away from the view, resting his back against the pillar, his chest heaving in and out as he tried to catch his breath before heading back to his desk.

This is just too much. I can’t take it anymore. I want to kill him, he thought, slipping back into his cubicle . Tonight he would settle everything with Lana—tonight he would meet her at his old apartment and tell her they were leaving Lunia.

Time: 7:05 p.m. February 23, 2071.

Location: Commons Building 21, Apt #44. Lunia, Tisaia

Spurious sat at his wooden desk, nestled next to his lofted bed. On the cherry wood surface sat a blank piece of aging paper, waiting for his pen. For an hour Spurious sat, his right hand supporting his worried head. But the words wouldn’t come. He simply sat staring blankly at the yellow paper.

Through the single window in his flat he watched the weak sun disappear on the horizon, darkness slowly swallowing Tisaia. Finally his thoughts met paper with a swift stroke of his pen.

Feb 23, 2071

Dear Ing:

Every morning I walk past the same ancient tree whose home is in the middle of the courtyard outside my building. Its branches protrude like vines up towards the sky and brush the nearby buildings. Not a day goes by I don’t stop to admire this tree, which is dying on one side and healthy and strong on the other. And lately I feel as if I have a connection to this tree, one that symbolizes my own struggles.

It’s not a secret that times are changing in Lunia, nor is it a secret that things have changed drastically everywhere.

Before Paulo died, he said he feared a State that limited liberties and rights. His fear was Tisaia would eventually become this State, and it would rule by fueling so much fear in its citizens they would blindly follow every law and rule the legislature could pass.

I honestly never believed this would happen. For years I have been brainwashed and manipulated by the Lunia Post, the Sector of Education, the Council of Royal Knights, and every other State-run agency that nourishes the general population with false hope. Their words are empty lies in a bottomless pit full of so many before them, with the sole purpose of keeping employees working like robots.

In many ways, Tisaia has become like a worker bee colony. We work and die for the betterment of a single idea — but the idea has turned to greed. And now it’s time to leave. I can’t tell you where, but as a friend, you deserve to know why.