departure imminent.’
“Your system clock is broken,” Crannor said to the stranger. In the moment that the man looked down at his watch Cran ran past him and headed for the nearest carriage.
Qevon poked the last of his soggy breakfast cereal. There was more milk than flakes. He didn’t enjoy it when it was too wet, yet he knew that when he poured the milk to the brim.
His plastic spaceship sat on the table next to the self-cooling milk canister. Its silence called to him, ‘play with me’. The spoon fell lifeless and downed in the bowl. Qevon grabbed the ship and ran around the kitchen table screaming like an afterburner. The ship’s engines lit up as it flew through the air.
Morning light finally creaked through the kitchen windows. Beads of rain coalesced and dropped onto the sills. Heat and humidity was the worst combination for Qevon’s skin; the sensation was that of something twisting and turning around deep inside the muscle.
A short electronic pulse indicated it was half past the hour. Qevon stiffened. He hated the sound of alarm clocks, the noise was so frightening that he was afraid to even touch them. The first time he ever set an alarm, for the reason of curiosity and fun, had forced his dad to burst into his bedroom and rescue Qev from the blaring sound. Under the covers Qevon hid, stiff with fear. His heart quickened again yet the pulse was over. The red digits on the fridge displayed 08:30.
Fortunately the ship’s crew survived the turbulence and the ship was gliding around the room again. Qev ran to the window and peered out onto the harsh metallic streets of Terosan. The city-planet’s skies were clear today, Qev peered out across the jungle of monoliths. Only by looking upwards was it possible to catch a glimpse of the sky, in every other direction all he could see was other towers like the one in which he lived. Down here at this level there wasn’t much variety in day-to-day scenery. If you were lucky you could see up to a maximum of four or five blocks away, but without fail your gaze would end upon another building.
The walkways below were the unreachable highways of deck 20. There was no way he could go down there without getting into trouble. Marching, walking, riding; people flowed like water from tower to tower. Where were they all going he wondered. Shopping or meeting friends, he reasoned, perhaps some were working as his dad was. Despite his father forbidding him from going to deck 20 he couldn’t help feel enticed to visit. He could see children playing. It can’t be that bad, can it? They were laughing and screaming. Hopping, jumping, running; in and out, round and round. Plastic spaceships, hover boards, magballs; everyone played by different rules but everyone played together.
Forget staying inside, those kids were having too much fun. Qevon rushed to his room and rummaged through a pile of clothes. He was changed and out in the door in such a rush that the spaceship was left behind on the bed.
“Going out to play. Bye!” Qevon shouted to his mother. No reply was heard. She must be engaged in the net again. He pushed the door to his parent’s bedroom ajar, he peered in and saw her reclining in a computer chair. The family was poor but unlike most families at this stratum they had managed to salvage a second chair-pod thanks to Crannor’s repair skills.
The goggled helm covered his mother’s eyes and ears. A blaring sound emanated from the helm’s earphones; the latest pay-per-month blaster no doubt. Her gloves twitched every time an enemy player shot at her. With each death her voice filled the room with excited profanity; sometimes winning, sometimes losing. It didn’t seem to matter which, her tone was the same. On the floor lay a wet discarded towel a hair’s breadth away from the drying rack. Qevon grabbed the towel and slung it over the heated pipes.
“Going out,” Qevon shouted.
“Ok!” she replied at least. Qevon closed the door. “Be safe,” she shouted just as the door clicked.
Soon after leaving Qevon decided to ignore his father’s advice and go place with the kids on deck 20. Most of the rush-time crowds had past. As he exited the lift he realised that he’d left behind the spaceship. He dug into his pockets found a scrunched up magball mit. Perhaps the others would let them join their game. He didn’t recognise anyone, perhaps they went to a local school down here on deck 20?
“Qev!” a familiar voice called on him. Qevon couldn’t see where the voice was coming from. “Qevon!” the voice shouted again. It was Keth. There he was, on the other side of the game waving his hands. “Come on, we need another player.” Keth stood a half-head taller and was notably broader than the other kids who played magball. Keth was yellow-skinned, just as half of the other kids were yellow. A couple of them were red while the rest were green like Qevon.
Keth kicked the ball to another team mate and continued to play without getting an answer from Qevon. The ball blasted past Qevon’s face as he stood counting the number of players. He was working out if he could join; the last time he joined a game the teams had an uneven number of players and everyone started to whine about what was fair. It wasn’t fun and no one could agree whether Qevon could play or not. Entering a game required majority approval. A few shouts of acceptance followed and the ball and Qev joined Keth’s team. As soon as he joined the ball whizzed past him again and hit the 4-point post.
“Come on, we’re 10 points down.” Keth shouted.
A green skinned kid, a few years older than Qevon, threw the ball high in the air towards another green skinned kid at the other end of the public walkway. These two must be on Keth’s team, he reasoned. The ball missed its target and bounced then rolled under the feet of adults who walked on by. Eventually, the ball emerged from the crowd as another adult kicked the ball back into play.
Keth now had the ball; he punched it higher than ever before. The ball was caught in a gust of that ripped between the towers, it drifted aimlessly but managed to land near in the opponent’s half. Keth didn’t always think, he acted first and always played rough. Aldon, another boy that Qev recognised, was playing on the other team and had just picked up the ball.
“Pass”
“Pass it”
“Here! Over here! Pass!”
“Me, me, to me!”
Keth to Qevon, then back again. Interception. Aldon to another boy, then back again. Interceped. Keth had the ball again. Once more the ball soared towards the edge of the walled walkway, if it could fly over the edge of the railing it would be lost to somewhere 20 levels below; however, the the ball stopped impossibly fast against an invisible wall that extended upwards from the walkway’s railing. Energy barriers prevented objects from being knocked or thrown off. A safety feature devised from humanity’s trial and errors of building larger and more highly interconnected structures. At first it seemed stuck but then the ball rolled down the barrier as if rolling through honey.
“Here, it’s our ball.” Keth shouted to Aldon who has been the first to the barrier. Technically the ball was out of bounds so play had to stop.
“No it isn’t. You kicked it,” Aldon shouted back.
“It came off Sel’s leg,” Artoc complained.
“It didn’t touch me,” Sellicia rebuked. Qevon paused to stare at Sellicia. A girl, playing magball. Girls don’t play magball, do they? Her light green hair swished as she turned and ran towards Aldon. She kicked the ball and in that moment decided the state of play. Qevon was motionless. He couldn’t speak or watch the ball come straight at him. He was staring at Sellicia. There was something about her. He didn’t have the words for it. Crunch! Qev’s eyes were forced shut as the impact felt like a burning sensation across his face.
He brought a palm to his face and felt his eyes well up. Sore, but not sore enough to cry. He regretted not paying attention to the game and looking like a fool in front of everyone. Qev dropped to one knee and covered his face. He was dazed. As soon as he crouched low the other team scored.
“I’m not playing,” Artoc threw his hands up, “you guys cheated.”
“No! No we didn’t.” Monor shouted back.
“It’s my ball,” Artoc tried to add credibility in the way that only a child
would try.
“Yeah, but it’s my generator,” another added. The generator helped to keep the ball within the area of play, and also linked up the point posts in order to keep track of the score. Qev hadn’t recognised the voice, he managed to open his eyes and look around to see who was arguing. He saw Keth stand in front of red-skinned boy of similar height but slimmer build.
Keth then looked at Sellica, “you kicked the ball before we decided who had the ball.” More high-pitched shouting ensued but Qev had lost track of what was going on. He sat down at the side and covered his throbbing cheeks and nose.
Many of the passing adults looked on with disdain but said nothing. The arguments were heated but voices carried far across the open deck.
Qevon rolled back the sleeves of his jacket and scratched his arms. The heat and humidity combined with the stress of the game was forcing him to itch. The embedded ID chip was implanted only a week ago. All kids in his class as school received them at the same time. The week before they all wore biometric encoded ankle straps.
His skin shone red where he had scratched. He clenched his teeth and tried to fight the thought of scratching more. Qev looked back towards the magball game and saw Keth land a punch on green-skinned boy on the other team. A fury of kicks and punches ignited between the two.