by Rayna Friedman
“Clay it’s going to work. We’ve got a good man on guard and these people have worked day and night to make sure this route is the best one to take. We’re going to get you over that damn wall Clay, it’s going to happen.”
“It is.”
I looked up from the paper and nodded at Serge. I laughed at myself. All those second thoughts, those doubts, they were ridiculous. Here was I Clay Burnam, getting the chance to do something that no one else had done before, and I was going to write about it, tell it to the Empire. How could I pass something like this up? How could I not want to do it?
“Alright. Now let’s run through this plan a couple of times, get you perfectly comfortable with the idea of this.” Serge said, putting a hand on my back and leading me down the hall of muttering and buzzing to another door.
We entered another massive room, but this one not as narrow as the hallway-like room we had just been in. Something like 15 light bulbs hung from the ceiling ten feet apart going down the entirety of the wall. The light was that fake orange-yellow light that old bulbs glowed. The room was cold, the floor a dull concrete and in the middle, a wall.
“An exact simulation. We’ve got our own piece of Wall right here.” Serge said with a chuckle. I had to say, I liked the serious and rigid Serge better than this one.
“Alright Clay, you’re going to start right here,” he said, pointing to a red X on the floor.
“Run to the wall, scale it, come down and run to the red X on the other side. Okay?”
“Okay”
He laughed again, this time probably at me and my hesitance. As much as I liked Serge, we weren’t friends, not by any means. He was some semi-nut anarchist and I was his revolutionary puppet. I didn’t mind the relationship; it was just not the most comfortable.
“Oh and here.” He threw a small backpack at me. It was a little heavy, it must have been filled with junk they got together.
“To simulate what you’ll be carrying.”
I slung the bag over my shoulders, walked over to the X and got in a runner’s stance.
“When I say three”
I nodded
“One…two…three!”
I sprinted to the wall, grabbed the ladder’s railing and scaled it. I got to the top, climbed as fast as I could down and ran to the X. I was panting and my back was getting wet when I reached my destination.
“Beautiful, three minutes and 18 seconds. Now let’s do it again.”
I went through that simulation five times, running, panting, sweating. We got my time down to 2 minutes and 42 seconds, which gave me what Serge claimed “ample” time to mess up tomorrow night.
“You won’t be coming here tomorrow night. You’ll go to the real red X and don’t get there the straight way. Take these alleyways and side streets,” Serge explained to me as he traced out a route on a paper that had a small portion of the Down and wall on it with a pen. Some of the anarchists were so anti-government they didn’t even use their technology to help them do their work more efficiently. A lot of them insisted on using pens and paper and old computers. Personally I found it incredibly inefficient and I didn’t have a problem with the government. I didn’t believe in all of their conspiracy theories, it just made for interesting listening material.
“Good luck Burnam.” Serge and I shook hands and I turned to leave. On my way out (which was down the long hall of buzzing and murmurs) everyone who saw me wished me luck and gave me a pat on the back or a hand shake. Finally I got myself to the metal door, up the stairs and into the streets of the Down.
After being cooped up in that basement with that stale pumped in oxygen, I took a deep breath in and out, thankful for the smoky air that was filling my lungs. I walked along, upright and feeling proud. I felt that I was finally going to accomplish something that I was supposed to do. This was it. This was going to be the big article, the game changer, I could feel it. My future article could be the foundation for the rebuilding of the Empire. It could help with the population problem, get the smoke cleared, and get the factories spread throughout the country. Anything was possible after this article was published. All this worrying about the Ills was probably unfounded, there never seemed like that many in the public viewings. They just seemed crazed, but that wasn’t news. We’re talking about the Empire; here they can handle a few crazy deformed psychos.
I reached the gate and walked up to the door. The guard turned his head to me and asked for ID. I gave it to the man who held it to his tech pad and with a few clicks and pressing of buttons, opened the door for me and let me back into Uptown. I got into me Elle and drove off to home.
My home. Apartment Building number 58, floor 5, room number 4. I really shouldn’t call it a home because that’s not really what I consider it. It’s really just a place where I sleep and occasionally eat. I spend most of my time either in the Times building or on whichever site I happen to be at, getting information for the upcoming article.
The area in which I spent some time in: bed, drawer, desk, kitchen, bathroom. That was my apartment. Nothing obviously cozy but that was fine by me. In hindsight I didn’t really treat the place with respect; I should have probably kept it in better shape. But I was and am a young man who didn’t plan on marrying and never had guests over.
The floor was covered in clothes. Stacks of books lined the two corners of the wall my bed laid against and papers were everywhere near and on my desk, surrounding my one prized possession, my computer. That was my livelihood; that was where some of the magic happened. That thing came with me to work everyday (when I planned on using it) and was brought home and settled down every night. And in that computer was the chip that had all of my writings on it, old and new. Things that were already published things about to be published, some articles I didn’t want to part with and a few personal writings.
I dropped my bag on the tiny kitchen table, grabbed a meal tablet out of the cupboard and a water bottle and threw the food and drink on my bed. I went over to my computer and placed it on my bed as well, opened the lid and asked it to turn on for me as I took a seat by my food, across from the screen. It turned itself on and the white screen almost blinded me. You’d think I’d be used to that damn light, but it only wears off after I’ve been staring at the screen for a while. I asked the computer to turn on the news, channel 50 and it obeyed as it always does.
On the screen was the President making a speech about the recent issue with the connection. The internet had been a bit faulty the past few hours and it was believed to be some form of anarchism. If I didn’t know better I would have guessed it was Serge and his groupies. But I knew it wasn’t, it was probably some problem of the Internet providers, someone would most likely be fired by the end of today, if they weren’t already. The news show cut to a video of protestors outside the Internet building. The scene cut back to the president who suddenly changed his tone of voice and said the internet was back to normal, everything was fixed. Well, now the majority of the Empire could breathe a sigh of relief and continue their lives as always. I don’t really understand why people get so worked up about these things? The government always ends up fixing these problems in hours, if not minutes.
I bit through the rapper of the meal tab and ate the whole thing in three bites. I wasn’t in the mood for eating anything really. I wanted to write. I closed the president’s speech and opened up a notepad. I took a deep breath in and out, smoothed my hair back with both hands and began.
“April 24, 10:36 pm. I’m sitting here in my cupboard of a room waiting to get over The Wall. Yes that is right, Clay Burnam is finally going to literally get south of the 37’ line. I know it’s been all talk and plans up until now but this is it. This is real.
“I don’t know how things are going to go out there. I could get killed in a few minutes from contact with the Ills. I could get killed by huge mutated animals, I could even end up finding absolutely nothing over The Wall (which would be quite the disappointment but what I am expecting I have to say). But at least I am prepared for anything. I’ve had my share of let downs and this might just be one of them, which would be okay. I would just go on leading my journalist existence of writing more articles and trying to make little differences in this world we live in. Or I could find a vast area of unused land that could change the Empire’s political and economic status. Who knows what will come out of this escapade? Save.”
I closed the notepad. Took out my chip and put it in the brown messenger bag laying on the ground next to my bed. I instructed my computer to turn the television on to some comedy channel and I drank my water as I watched the mostly stupid (but occasional funny) comedy sketches until one o clock that night. I set my alarm for 6 pm. And yes, I was able to sleep that long, I think it came from living a good majority of my life not sleeping, which ultimately made me want to make up for all the lost hours when I could, which was now. And the time couldn’t be more perfect. I needed the sleep because really, who knew what was going to happen tonight?
I woke up 4 minutes before the alarm sounded. I grabbed the computer and pressed the big red button on the screen before it could blast at me for not being up yet. With three minutes to spare, I got to the button. A groan escaped my lips as I swung my legs over the side of my bed. I opened my computer and asked for the news. As I listened about Japan’s newest technological breakthrough and the different ideas of how it would help or hurt us I gave my teeth a good brushing and got into my clothes.
“And don’t forget; stay at least 50 feet from The Wall. It isn’t safe on the other side.” A woman…the woman said.
I turned the computer to face me as I put my Wall guard’s uniform in my bag to put on once I got to the Down.
A new clip of the Ills was on. There were 10 “people” running up to the cameras on The Wall. They held axes, hatchets and other weapons; and raising them above their heads they ran to The Wall. Shots could be heard as some of them fell while others kept going to The Wall. Three made it and began hacking away at the stone. It took 10 seconds to finally kill the Ills at The Wall. They barely made a dent in the stone, but they managed to look as crazy and mentally incapacitated as we believed them to be. I shuddered for a second not only at the fact that these crazies lived only a few miles away and that I was going to be closer to them than anyone had ever been, but also that the entire Empire had just had to see them being shot to death. And it was quite a violent way to go.
I closed my computer, put it in my desk drawer and in its place took out my new voice logger. The piece of equipment was a “gift” from Serge and the anarchists. I was going to use it to record everything over The Wall. It was lighter and much more compact than my computer so it was perfect for the job. All it needed was my chip to have everything saved into and then it was all systems go from there. I put the silver rimmed screen into my bag and felt around for my chip once again. There it was, right where I had left it last night, sitting deep in the recesses of my bag. I grabbed my ID card, put it in my bag, slung my bag over my shoulder and left my apartment.
I made my way to the Overground stop near my apartment, which was about 2 blocks away, got on the G*7 and rode it a few blocks from the Down gate. I got off at my appointed spot and then walked to the gate. The guards in black were standing there, as usual, their emotionless faces blocked by their black helmets. Nade wasn’t there. I frowned, but thought it was probably for the best. I guess me going to the Down two days in a row would seem somewhat suspicious and well…I was about to do something extremely illegal. Going over The Wall is just about as bad, if not worse than murdering someone in the Empire. But once I came back I knew I could change things. I would bring news that would help the Empire so much that the government wouldn’t even want to hurt me, I’m sure.
I showed one of the guards my ID and within a few seconds, to the Down I went. I made my way through the many back streets and alleyways that Serge had mapped out for me and stopped off at an evacuated building. Probably some disease had spread there, a very common occurrence in the Down and was most likely on the way to being demolished. I went inside, said hello to make sure no one was in there and when I was satisfied got dressed into my Wall guard’s uniform. I put my clothes in my messenger bag; once again made sure my voice logger and ID card were in there and headed back out. By 7 that night I was sixty feet from The Wall.
That massive stone structure loomed over me. It almost looked like it was going to fall down right on me and crush me there and then before I could even get anything I needed to done. That would be unfortunate, I thought, staring up at the huge wall. I put my hand on the wall of the building behind me and leaned on it. Serge told me I needed to wait for one of his men to initiate the climb. I felt something wet on my fingers and turned to the wall to see what it was. There was a red X about a half a foot wide freshly painted on the building. I laughed out loud at my anarchist “friend.”
“Oh Serge, very symbolic”
“He likes that kind of stuff” a voice said, coming from the nearest alley. I started to walk towards the voice.
“No Mr. Burnam, stay right where you are”
“Okay then…” Well this must have been the initiator.
“I’m going to give our man on The Wall a sign and then you’ll have to start going”
“Sounds like a plan.” I turned back towards The Wall and waited.
“And Serge says, just like last night”
“Yeah, easy for him to say” I said with a laugh. Well it was; he wasn’t the one risking his ass for the truth. He was just sending the sheep to the slaughter so to speak. But of course I had more confidence in this whole situation, so I wasn’t mad at the encouragement.
“And Mr. Burnam”
“Call me Clay”
“Um…Clay?”
“Yeah”
“Good luck. You’re a hero for everyone underground. We all appreciate what you’re doing and are gonna be hoping for you while you’re over there”
“Thanks”
We waited a few minutes until I could hear some muffled noises where my anarchist was hiding behind the building. He must have had a headset set up to the guard on The Wall.
“Ready Mr. Burnam”
“Ready as ever”
“Ok…now”
I ran to The Wall, my heart beating so hard, I could have easily been having a heart attack, I couldn’t tell the difference. But I ran on the uneven street to the ladder, found it, scaled it all the way up and met the guard at the top. He nodded his head in what looked like approval before practically pushing me down the ladder. I got my feet on the rungs and climbed down. About a quarter of my way through the descent, my feet couldn’t find the next rung and I slid down a few feet, my heart beating even faster than before. I thought I was done for, but I pushed my feet against the metal and finally found one rung to balance on. From there, I made my way, smoothly down the ladder, trying to recover from the sudden panic attack, succeeding and got to the ground on the other side.
I ran, holding the strap of my bag, making sure it was secured to me and that nothing would fall out. Of course, in hind sight, I should have probably done that during the whole escape but I wasn’t exactly thinking of my bag while I was running, potentially for my life. I didn’t stop running past the 50 foot mark because I didn’t even know what that was. I was supposed to count to 30 during my run but I forgot in the heat of things and just kept running. But I soon stopped and caught my breath. I looked back at The Wall and knew I was more than 50 feet from it. I was far from the guards, guns and screens of the north. I was south of the 37’ line.
To Be Continued...
