Valley Park

Emilie Turner was finding life in Valley Park difficult to adjust to. She’d been happy in The Cliffs, the place she’d lived all her life, but then her stupid mother had to ruin it all by changeing jobs, and here they were, at the far edges of Beacon, with the rest of their family and friends a three-hour shuttle ride away.

The lake at the furthest edge of the community was the one place she felt happy here. You could fish here – she still had fond memories of the freshwater fishing they had done in The Lakes when she was younger – and it was a great place for their dog, Rocky, to run around. It was always quiet as well, which meant it was a safe place for Emilie to think.

And a safe place for her to cry. She nuzzled Rocky and let her tears fall into his soft warm fur. He was panting underneath her, eager to run off and play. She sniffed, took a deep breath and wiped her eyes.

‘Go on boy. Off you go’.

She watched him scamper around, freely. He was so happy here, and her mum and dad seemed much happier too. Even David was adjusting well to his new school and making lots of new friends.

Why couldn’t she be happy too? Why couldn’t she see whatever it was the rest of her family saw in this place. All she could think about were the people she missed – her sister and brother, her nephews, her friends…

…Ivan…

‘Penny for them?’

Startled at the voice behind her, Emilie sprung to her feet.

‘What?’

‘Penny for them. Penny for your thoughts’.

‘What does that mean?’

‘I don’t know really’, the boy laughed, ‘it’s something my mum says. It’s an old world saying I think’.

‘You’re the new girl, aren’t you?’

Emilie wasn’t sure whether to feel unnerved or flattered by this.

‘Yeah, been here a few weeks now. We came from The Cliffs’.

‘Ah, The Cliffs. Lovely place. So, you been cliff-walking yet?’

It was a bone of contention for Emilie that she hadn’t been allowed to go cliff-walking back home – back in The Cliffs, she had to stop thinking of it as home now – as she was under fourteen. And now she was fourteen, she was living here. She shook her head, trying to blink back the tears threatening to form.

‘But you’re old enough, right?’

‘Yeah, fourteen. But only just. You?’

‘Well, we’ll have to go cliff-walking sometime. I’ll be sixteen soon, and then I’ll have a few more privileges’.

I won’t, Emilie thought, but bit her lip.

‘Tyler, by the way. Tyler Healy.

Emilie regarded this Tyler Healy for the first time. He was a little taller than her, maybe a year or two older than her. And drop dead gorgeous.

‘Emilie Turner’.

‘And who’s this then? Hello boy’.

Rocky was sniffing at Tyler enthusiastically, pleased to have made a new friend.

‘Rocky’.

‘Well hey Rocky, nice to meet you’. Tyler turned back to Emilie.

‘Rocky, that’s an old world name, isn’t it?’

Emilie shrugged. ‘I dunno’.

‘Sure it is. Your parents are old-worlders?’ Seeing Emilie’s blank face, Tyler said ‘you know, they’re bred’.

‘Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah they are’.

‘Mine too’.

‘You sure seem to know a lot about the old world, Tyler’.

‘You don’t?’

‘Not really’.

Jane and Michael rarely talked about it, and although they’d had a little education about it in school, it was all hazy to Emilie, just a story really.

‘But one day we’ll be joined to them. Aren’t you curious? I want to live there one day, I want to be one of the ambassadors. What about you?’

‘I dunno. I haven’t really thought about it much. I want to work with animals’.

‘Well, Emilie Turner, I think you’ll be very good at that, won’t she Rocky boy?’

Emilie blushed.

‘Say, Emilie. What are you doing tonight?’

‘Tonight?’

‘Yeah, you want to see something special?’

‘But I can’t be out late’.

‘Me neither. Technically. But I’ve never been caught yet, so I don’t see why tonight would be any different’.

‘What about your parents?’

‘They sleep soundly. Never hear a thing. I have a ground-floor room, big windows, it’s easy’.

‘What about the cameras?’

‘I don’t know. But I do know I’ve never been caught. So, Emilie, what do you say – meet me here at 12?’

‘OK’.

Emilie sounded hesitant. She was so afraid of being caught, of the punishment that might ensue – but she saw Tyler beaming at her, wearing a grin of confidence, more confidence than she’d ever seen in another person, and she knew she wanted to find out what he had in store. For the first time since moving here, Valley Park seemed like an interesting prospect. She beamed at him, this time more assured: ‘OK. 12 it is’.

The hours until it was time to come out had passed so slowly. It had been agony waiting until 11 when she heard her parents click off the lights and head to bed, and the next hour had passed so slowly, every second feeling like an hour as Emilie watched her bedside clock pass the time. But eventually it had been time. She’d slung up her window and eased herself out – then softly, she’d padded across the lawn, down the road and onwards, her heart pounding all the time, and now she was here, she found her heart pounding even more – she felt like she did when she was with Ivan – except more so because Tyler was older, he was newer, he was unfamiliar, and there was something about the thought of the adventures he might lead her into that sent a shiver up her spine.

He was waiting for her already.

‘You made it’.

‘Of course’.

As she stood in front of him, she felt a wave of heat shoot through her body like electricity.

‘Ready?’ Tyler asked and squeezed her hand. Emilie felt her whole body tingle at his touch. He led her towards the rocks at the side of the lake, where she saw, for the first time, a cave mouth.

And as they entered the cave, Emilie knew she was embarking on the biggest adventure of her life so far.

The Council Building, Central

Esther was taken aback.

She couldn’t believe how many of the members of the Council she recognised. Not simply the likes of Goran, Eve and Sven who liaised with the residents, but people she recognised from before.

The woman to the far left of the table had been someone big in Europe. Germany, maybe?

Then there was that British politician guy. Matthewson? Mendelson? Mandelson?

…and the man from the UN. Kofi someone?

She didn’t recognise everyone there, but she would guess that many of them represented other parts of the world. And here was she. She suddenly felt once more that she was just a little girl from Oklahoma, and she had no idea what she was doing amongst these people.

Bryan knew nothing of these people, all he knew was that they were members of the Council, and that they held the key to his future, to his family’s future – to the future of all Beacon residents, and he was nervous that what they decided here might change his world irrevocably.

Eve introduced Bryan and Esther to the council. She gave the other members’ names, but Bryan could barely take any of them in. They all had fancy titles, like United Nations Liaison Officer, Global Affairs Co-ordinator and Implementation Strategy Advisor. He and Esther were simply ‘Residents’ Representatives’.

People shared the findings of reports. Bryan and Esther struggled to keep up at times, but it appeared that the plans for integrating Beacon into the world at large were still some way off, five years at an estimate, possibly ten.
Bryan felt a strange mixture of relief that the changes would not be immediate and fear from the knowledge that it would still be in his lifetime.

Esther, though, felt tears of frustration starting to prickle in her eyes. She could not wait another ten years. They could not wait. She could not bring that news back to the residents. There would be outrage.

After hearing discussions about diplomatic and economic strategy and about the lack of compatible infrastructures, Esther and Bryan were finally called upon to speak. Esther felt her anger and frustration rising and took a deep breath… but then Bryan spoke, much more calmly than she would have managed, and she gulped her outburst back, took a deep breath and forced back the tears. She couldn’t speak from a place of being upset, she would just look foolish.

‘I have to say that the residents are currently split on the issue of integration. I recognise that this has been a source of long-standing division in the communities but we feel that we need Council reassurance about how the integration will occur, and whether it will be phased in, in order to make the necessary adjustments’.

An Australian-sounding man spoke.

‘Mr Light, the onus is not on the members of the community to integrate into the world at large, the onus is on the world at large to change to accommodate Beacon. We are immensely proud of the work conducted in Beacon over the years, and we truly believe it is a community fit for purpose’.

‘Then why can’t we fulfil our purpose?’

All eyes in the room turned to look at Esther. She felt their stares: quizzical, accusatory, patronising.

‘Ms Lovett, you can surely appreciate what a change it would be for the world to accept this new country. A country that uses no currency, whose economic, political and geographical infrastructure varies so wildly from everywhere else. It is our firm belief that Beacon demonstrates what most of us would desire our own countries to become, that it truly is a shining example of nationhood. But the time is not right for the world to accept Beacon. It would cause a huge upset. We need time to prepare’.

Esther fumed. Bryan looked at her, giving a brief synpathetic glance, before addressing the room once more.

‘With respect, as you can see, feelings run high amongst a number of residents who feel that they are not able to fulfil their true purposes. We appreciate the complexity of the situation, but there are people who were students of the Academy many years ago now, elderly people who are anxious to see the promises fulfilled in their lifetime’.

‘And it is our hope that they will. But to rush integration would be a disaster for all involved. You yourself said that many of the community would find the process disruptive and are concerned that it not be rushed. We echo those concerns. For this to truly work, we have to take it at an appropriate pace’.

‘So what can we do? What can the residents do to prepare?’

Esther couldn’t help the desperation in her voice, although she was trying hard to restrain herself and be appropriate.

‘Just do as you have been. We have no significant concerns about residents. Please reassure all residents that we have their best interests at heart, that we understand their concerns and frustrations and that we will be doing everything within our power to address those concerns and ensure a smooth integration. For everyone’.

And with that, the discussion was closed down, and the Council members filed out.

Bryan looked at Esther and could see the anguish in her face, but he knew he couldn’t comfort her. She whispered ‘They’re going to be so upset when we tell them’. Bryan nodded. ‘But it’s for the best. You heard them. It has to be right’. Esther nodded and slowly got up to leave.

‘Come on, we’ll be OK. People will understand’.

Esther’s voice cracked a little: ‘but they’ve waited so long. It’s been so long’. She thought of it taking another ten years before she saw her family. What if they died? What if they wouldn’t recognise her?

Bryan looked at her and spoke gently.

‘In the scheme of things, it’s only a little while longer’.

Yet as they walked out, all Bryan could think was that the changes were happening too quickly, and all Esther could think was that they might never occur.

–

Author’s note: Special thanks to Hrootbeer for creating the political sims for me. Also: you may notice Goran missing – this save file seems to have vanished from my menu before I’d finished the shots. Am hoping to restore it before we need to go back, but I didn’t have time to faff about just to get him in there.

Location classified

Ollie smiled as he watched Katja watering the plants. She was so gifted. He couldn’t wait to see her show off her gifts to the other residents of Beacon, and to the world. It wouldn’t be long before their time here was over, he realised. He wasn’t sure how to feel.

On the one hand, he couldn’t wait to marry Katja, for them to choose their new name and to start their life together; he as an innovations designer, she as a horticulturist. On the other, he was anxious. Life at the Academy, whilst difficult sometimes, had become safe and familiar. He didn’t know which of his friends would end up in the same community as he and Katja, although, of course, all twelve communities were only a short shuttle journey away from one another. He wondered when he would see his family again, and whether that would be straight away. Probably not straight away, he thought, he and Katja would have to settle in to their new home and work and to their new community. And then there would be the matter of travel. He had no idea where Beacon was in relation to the rest of the world, or how you might travel to and from it. They’d been told not to worry about such things, but to focus on their studies and on their opportunity here at the Academy, but Ollie couldn’t help wondering sometimes.

It was like how he couldn’t stop praying. He’d gotten into the habit a few months ago, just silently, in his head, praying to God. He mostly prayed for his family, that God would look after them, especially his Opa and Oma. He prayed for Katja, and for himself, that he would be a good husband, that they would have healthy and happy children one day, that they would be a good example.

Ollie prayed for his friends here: for Jamal and Keisha, Nita and Ando, Pal and Rosita, Mary and Tobias, Ethan and Liana, Jennifer and Leif. He prayed that they would be healthy and happy and be able to achieve their potential. He prayed for Jacques, Irina and Niamh, that they would all find the person who was right for them, as he had with Katja. He worried about them, Niamh especially. She’d looked so miserable lately, and he wished he knew how to help her. And he prayed for Susette. It had been a long time since they had seen her, and no-one knew what had happened to her. They didn’t dare ask about her, nor speak her name. Cameras were everywhere and they all knew that being caught saying or doing the wrong thing could have serious repercussions. But he missed her, he worried about her, he hoped she was OK.

Ollie wondered what would happen if anyone knew he prayed. Nobody had ever said believing in God was a bad thing, there were no rules against it, but he instinctively knew it probably wasn’t acceptable. There was no mention of faith or belief anywhere in the Academy and he suspected Beacon would be the same. He was pretty sure there would be no churches or mosques or temples anywhere in the twelve communities. He pondered whether people out there still secretly believed or prayed. He couldn’t be the only one, could he? Still, even if there were others, he doubted they would admit to it. Maybe he himself only took to prayer because it helped him feel closer to home, closer to his Oma, closer to a world beyond these walls.

He looked at Katja again. The sunlight caught in her hair and she glowed like an angel. Ollie smiled. Whatever else he felt, he knew one thing. He was blessed.

The Council Building, Central

Esther and Bryan stepped through huge glass sliding doors into the Council lobby. Esther could feel her heart thumping inside her chest and her breath starting to quicken. She glanced at Bryan who flashed her a nervous smile.

Bryan wondered what he was doing here, and what he’d gotten this poor young woman into. He wished they knew what it would be like in the Council meeting. They had to report back from the communities: but the communities were divided.

Esther thought of all those she knew who, like her, spent their youth training in The Academy, being prepared for roles as leaders, ambassadors and examples for the world. She remembered her own training in architecture, how excited she was that one day she would get to share the training she’d received with the world, that they would all get to share the better way of life and better models for development that they had here, and in so doing, make the whole planet better.

It had been ten years and whilst she thought of her family and her old friends much less than she did at sixteen, she had never forgotten and never stopped longing for them to be able to live as she did, to have the opportunities she had. She would never stop thinking about where Johnny, her husband, might have come from, what his family and friends were like. If she thought through the mind of her old self, it was strange that they had been married eight years and never spoken of these things. And yet here, this was the norm. She knew that their friends here had the same secrets, because to mention what once was would not only expose them to some form of correction, discipline or rebuke, it would expose wounds none of them dared reveal lest the pain overwhelm and distract them from purpose.

She tried to remember when it was that they discovered that they would not be going home, not yet, not until the time was right. She knew they had entered the Academy believing their two-year stay would be it, expecting to return once this time was over, but sometime during their stay, that had changed. She couldn’t recall it ever being communicated formally, but it was something that somehow they all just knew, or came to know. The future was always spoken in terms of their role in the communities first, in terms of the part they had to play in this new nation, and then the part the new nation would play in the world. Nobody ever talked to them about their role in their home countries, such an idea was unthinkable and certainly unsayable.

But now she was here. Now she had an opportunity to change things, to represent those, like her, who had longed for the moment when they would be able to fulfil their destiny. The time must be now, she could feel it. There was a real groundswell amongst the residents to push for change. They felt that they’d prepared long enough, that they’d waited long enough. Esther knew herself how little the infrastructure had changed in the past eight years – surely that showed they were stable? She couldn’t imagine how it must feel for those who’d waited over fifty years for this time. The Council had to hear. They had to be receptive.

But then she looked at Bryan. She knew not everyone in Beacon felt as she did. She knew there were a significant proportion of residents, maybe even as much as forty or fifty percent, who were afraid. They were predominantly those born and raised in one of the twelve communities, although a significant minority of Academy graduates felt the same. They were afraid that outside influences would damage their community, that instead of bringing hope to the world, the world would bring corruption to them. Esther understood the insecurity, but she knew she could never understand what it would be like to be Bryan, to have been born and raised in Beacon alone, to know nothing of a world beyond, save the very brief mentions made every now and then in residents’ meetings or in the schools. He’d never seen a car, global news broadcasts, never seen or spent any money. The only books he would have read were those written by members of the community. Likewise the paintings he’d seen, the computer programs he’d used, the plays he’d watched, the music he’d heard.

Esther remembered the wealth of literature and art in the old world; wished she’d made more of it when she could have. She loved the art and literature in Beacon, produced by perhaps the most talented artists in the world – but there was not enough of it, not compared to what she had once known. The same with everything. She remembered her old favourite TV shows, like Friends and American Idol. She wondered if they were still showing them out there, in the other world. She remembered the music she used to listen to. She still missed it, even though it was probably a corrupting influence.

Bryan stared at the art on the walls, such beautiful work. He recognised one of the paintings as being by his friend Anna. Another was by Richard, who he’d gone to school with.

He glanced at Esther. She was lost in contemplation. They waited for what felt like an age. Then, finally, a door opened.

‘We’re ready for you now’.

Esther and Bryan stood, each trembling slightly. It was time to meet the Council.

New York

Walk. Don’t walk.

The smell of donuts, coffee, hot dogs, pretzels.

The wafts of air rising from vents and grates.

The sounds of subway trains, yellow cabs, horns beeping, people chatting in their cell phones on their way to work, footsteps pounding the sidewalks, newspaper vendors calling for attention, tinny music coming from the earphones of passers-by.

Day after day, Naomi pounded the streets of this city that had accidentally become her new home. She hadn’t intended to end up here, but a chance ride on a packed train with no conductor found her here, and here she had remained for what must be six weeks.

The big city had many advantages. In a sea of millions, you were always anonymous.

There were a number of homeless shelters and soup kitchens operating in the city. Naomi soon learned how to work the system. She had five or six names she went by, each known to different operations. If she was lucky, she could get a hot meal and a bed for the night. Nobody on the streets had any ID, so it made no difference that she didn’t.

Sometimes it had been difficult to remain hidden. When the well-meaning folk who ran the homeless programmes asked a few too many questions about who she was, where she came from or what they could do to find her a permanent place, then she was out of there. She didn’t want to be a name on a form, even an assumed name.

There was much demand for the homeless shelters and soup kitchens, and sometimes Naomi couldn’t find a place – but the men and women she met on the streets taught her their tips for survival. She learned how to scavenge bins and skips for food good enough to eat.

On occasion, she took to begging in the subway, but only when things got desperate. It felt too demeaning to stand or sit there begging for change. She wished she had a guitar, then at least she could busk. Occasionally she tried to sing, but without the comfort and protection of a guitar, she generally felt too vulnerable.

Every now and then, Naomi would look up at the skyscrapers towering above her, the sun beating down, the occasional plane flying overhead, and she would wonder. She would wonder about the scope and ambition of those who built tall towers, reaching ever onwards; ever upwards. She would wonder about her mum, Davey, Chase, her friends, her beloved dog Charlie, even Alice, Red, Tina and Amber back in Union. She wondered what, if anything, life might hold for her.

There was one thought that she tried very hard to fight, though. The thought that she couldn’t keep doing this forever. She saw that thought in the eyes of every concerned worker at the shelters, on the cover of every magazine featuring shiny bright young starlets, in the packs of young men and women, just a few years older than her, tumbling out of the bars in giggling, smiling packs.

She made herself a promise. When she turned eighteen, she would find a way to stop running. She would no longer be a minor and then whoever they were, they would not be able to touch her.

It was that thought that comforted her on the night of her seventeenth birthday. The shelters were full that night, the weather was starting to develop a slight chill; summer was on its way out. She found herself a quiet spot beside a take-out joint, chosen for the chance of free food and the warmth coming from the vents. She unrolled the sleeping bag she’d been given by one of the charities and tried to sleep.

Sleep was not initially forthcoming. Cabs beeped their way through the city streets. Fried chicken smells wafted through the air, drunks round the corner sang out-of-tune versions of rock classics, misremembering the lyrics. But in time, the drunks went home to bed, the cabs slowed down, the food smells drifted away, and Naomi fell into a deep slumber.

A man’s cough woke Naomi. She sensed a shadow looming over her and as she squinted to see, her heart hit her mouth and her whole body froze.

‘Now then missy. Come on, get up’.

Canterbury, England.

The pain coursed through Sue Cleaver’s stomach like sharp knives. The last time she did this may have been nearly eighteen years ago, but the memory was as fresh as if it were yesterday – and it didn’t feel like this.

‘Bob’ she screamed. ‘Bob! The baby’s coming… but I think something’s wrong. Bob! Call an ambulance!’

Bob ran down the stars as fast as he could, his heart pounding. He grabbed his mobile from the side table in the hallway and ran into the kitchen to Sue.

He stopped, agape. There was blood. Plenty of blood.

Sue looked at the shock on her husband’s face. ‘What is it? What…’ and she looked down.

–

Bob sat in the corridor clutching the plastic cup containing something masquerading as tea but tasting faintly of sawdust. A hurried nurse had thrust it into his hand with a sympathetic look. Good for shock, they say. His mind wandered to the thought of opening a proper café chain in NHS hospitals, serving tea and coffee that actually tasted vaguely like they were supposed to. He’d make a killing… he shook himself, scolding himself for even going there. His wife could be dying, his child could be dying… He’d already lost one child, he couldn’t bear losing another. What good was flippancy at a time like this?

He looked at the clock opposite. The second hand stubbornly refused to thud round any faster. Had it really only been thirty minutes since they’d whisked Sue into theatre?

He crumpled the empty cup in his palm so that it splintered and cracked, then dropped it in the bin and watch the second hand make its slow movement thrice more.

Five minutes passed. A door creaked open and a man in scrubs appeard.

‘Mr Cleaver?’

Bob looked up.

‘I’m Mr Shah, your wife’s surgeon. We’ve managed to stem the blood loss. Your wife is stable, but I have to warn you that she has lost a lot of blood.’

Bob nodded, dumbly and croaked, ‘the baby?’

‘The baby’s signs are good. We’re about to perform the caesarean. You are welcome to come in and watch’.

Bob was shaken. On the one hand, he couldn’t bear to see Sue in such a state, but on the other, this was his baby, and he wanted to be there to welcome them into the world.

He nodded, gripped the arms of the chair tightly, and with a deep breath, stood.

–

The sound of crying. It was the most beautiful sound Bob Cleaver had ever heard.

‘Congratulations, Mr Cleaver. You have a son’.

They wrapped the baby in cloth and placed him in Bob’s arms. He was dumbstruck and it came as a shock to him to realise that tears were streaming down his face and falling onto the cloths covering his little boy. He was beautiful.

‘Hello’, he whispered through the tears.

‘Hello son. I’m your daddy’.

The nurses ushered Bob and his son into a private room to rest whilst they tended to Sue. He looked at his wife, torn open by implements, hooked up to drips and monitors and said a silent prayer to a God he’d only just this moment thought to try believing in.

–

Sue Cleaver opened her eyes. Everything was a little blurry. She rubbed the sleep away and shook her head. Blue and yellow walls? Where was she?

She felt sore.

‘Hello, mummy’.

Bob. Bob. And a baby. Her baby? She found it hard to speak.

Bob came closer and stroked her head. ‘Hey. You’re awake’.

Sue smiled, weakly.

‘You gave us quite a scare there. Seven hours you’ve been out cold. There were some complications with the birth, pre-eclampsia they think. But don’t worry, you’re going to be fine. I promise.’

He held the infant out in front of him, and instinctively, Sue reached out.

‘We’ve got a little boy, Sue. We have a son’.

Bob Cleaver put his arm round his wife and kissed her forehead. She stroked her son’s head, so warm, a little fuzz of brown hair appearing under his blanket.

She felt tears form and wasn’t sure if they were tears of relief, fear, happiness or sadness.

The Cleaver family clung to each other until night fell and sleep came.

The morning brought with them more cups of NHS-blend tea, frantic phone calls from Joan, Ron and Barbara checking everything was OK, nurses checking Sue’s stitches and blood pressure and the decision to name their little boy Henry.

Their new life had begun.

Reading, England

‘Come on! This one for the King!’

Emma raised her arm, tossed the baton… and it clattered to the floor.

The boys laughed.

‘You’re not getting the angle right’, Ben said, and proceeded to miss.

Emma watched him curiously. There was no way he would have missed that shot. He’d hit every single time in the half an hour they’d been playing.

‘Careful Kate. Left a bit. That’s it. Now look square at him’.

‘You’re not supposed to be helping the girls, Ben’, Tyler complained.

Katie swung… and took the king.

‘Ha ha yes!’ Emma cheered, as Katie and Lucy jumped up and down and hugged each other.

Tyler tutted. ‘Mate, you gifted them that game’.

‘Yeah’ Alex said ‘Nice one, Ben’.

Emma looked up to see Ben’s gaze firmly fixed one way, and she smiled to herself.

—

‘You’re staring very intently at that fire, Kate’ Lucy said.

‘Is there something on your mind?’

‘Or someone?’ Emma added.

Lucy started to sing: ‘Ben, the two of us need look no more. We both found what we were looking for. With a friend to call my own I’ll never be alone’

Emma joined in: ‘And you my friend will see, you’ve got a friend in me’.

The two of them collapsed into fits of giggles as Emma reached for the Smirnoff bottle, glugged, and passed it round.

‘You guys are hilarious’, Katie sighed.

‘Seriously though’ Lucy said.

‘Yeah, seriously though. You and Ben…’ Emma added, ‘you and Ben’

And she and Lucy, in unison, squealed ‘sitting in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G.’

Katie flushed red. ‘Pass me that drink’.

–

They woke around 10am, and by midday were headed to the new music stage. The sun was already strong and its heat beamed on Katie’s back, prickling her shoulders. She hoped Lucy had suncream in her bag.

She inhaled deeply and looked over the campsite. For a moment, the thought of Jenny flooded her, and she tried to imagine what it would be like if Jenny were here, whether or not she’d have liked it… but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t picture Jenny here. It was an odd realisation, the thought that she was moving on, as she had always feared might happen when they left school. Perhaps even if… well, if whatever had happened hadn’t, perhaps this was still how it would have ended up, with them hanging out with different friends, developing different interests.

‘Penny for them?’

Katie felt heat flush from the bottom of her cheeks all the way up. ‘Oh hi’, she said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

‘You guys off to the main stage?’

‘No, the new music one’.

‘OK. Cool. Well. We might catch you later’.

‘Yeah, catch you later’.

‘OK’.

As Ben turned to find Tyler and the others, Katie winced. Was she too casual? Not casual enough? Should she have gone with them? Emma was already halfway into the next field. Katie tried to avoid looking towards Ben and ran to join her friend.

—

‘Drink this’, Emma said. ‘It’ll give you courage, loosen you up a bit’.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?’

‘Don’t be silly. You don’t like Khaos Mage, and neither does Ben’

‘Neither does Lucy’

‘Lucy doesn’t care. Besides, that is entirely not the point’.

Emma poked Katie gently in the ribs.

‘Ow! What was that for?’

‘He’s over there. Come on, drink up’.

Katie downed the vodka and lemonade. The spiky sweet-bitterness of it warmed her throat.

She could feel her legs slightly trembling, and her stomach was doing somersaults. She could just feel his presence.

‘Right, time to meet the others’ Emma announced. ‘Have fun’.

‘So you didn’t fancy seeing Khaos Mage either?’ Ben asked

‘No, they’re just noise to me. All their songs sound the same’, Katie replied, with a slight giggle.

‘You want to check out the stalls?’

‘Sure’.

There was a strange collection of merchandise available on the festival stalls – colourful scarves, tie-dye tops, posters, handmade jewellery, gnomes and figurines, novelty balloons and silly floppy hats, which they spent ages trying on, laughing like drains, until the stall holder started giving them ‘the look’.

They bought noodles and donuts, shared an over-priced pint, and wandered back through the art and craft fair.

Katie couldn’t help but notice how good Ben looked in the moonlight.

Ben looked at her. ‘You know, the stars are looking beautiful tonight’.

Katie gave an involuntary eye roll.

Ben, seeing her face, looked briefly wounded. ‘No, no, I didn’t mean it like that, I wasn’t trying to be cheesy, I just – look at them. You can see some of the constellations tonight. Honest. Sorry. I’m a bit of a geek like that’.

Katie flushed. ‘No, I’m sorry, I…’

‘Would you like me to show you?’

The ground was dry – it hadn’t rained for several days, a small miracle Katie was thankful for, this being her first proper festival. There was a gentle breeze in the air, and a clear, starry sky. A Hollywood screenwriter couldn’t have written a better scene, she thought. Except they would have painted out the recycling bins beside them.

‘Look. There’s Orion’s Belt. Can you see?’

Katie looked at this sweet, clever boy and wondered how it had taken her so long to realise how much she liked him. All those college projects they’d worked on together, all those times she could have spent getting to know him more closely. Still, they had another year of college, and they had this weekend. She was determined to make the most of it.

‘Can you see, Kate? That star there, follow it along and you can see the Belt’.

Katie looked up, and she saw.

They sat for what must have been an hour before Katie became aware that their bodies were in sync, each instinctively reaching behind the other, intimate yet not quite touching.

Another hour or so passed, with talk of the past and the future, of hopes and dreams, of sadness and longings.

As they curled up together, Katie felt a warmth inside her she hadn’t felt for a very long time. She was content.

The breeze became chillier as the night progressed, and they were both struggling to keep their eyes open by the time they walked back to their tents.  Trying to say goodnight was awkward, given the intimacy they had shared just a few minutes earlier.

‘So. Erm. I guess it’s night then’, Ben offered.

Whether it was the drink she’d had earlier, or the magic of the stars, or simply the inescapable feeling that Emma and Lucy would spend the whole of tomorrow teasing her if she didn’t act, a confidence swept through Katie, and she took Ben into her arms.

The stars shone brightly above them as they kissed. A rumble came roaring into earshot – the evening’s gigs were over, the others were coming back. The night was ended, but there would be tomorrow.

The Cliffs

‘Thank you for coming, Bek. Your mother and I really appreciate it’.

‘So what’s been happening?’

‘We wish we knew. She’s been behaving very strangely for two or three months now – blowing up without warning, arguing with us, wanting to rebel. We just don’t understand it’. Michael paused. ‘We still haven’t told her about your mum changing jobs. We’re so worried at how she’ll react to the move’.

Rebekah contemplated this. She wasn’t entirely enamoured with the idea herself. She was happy that her mother would be starting a new teaching job in Valley Park. It had been a while since she was happy working at The Academy, and Rebekah and Steven had both been concerned by how difficult their mother had been finding her job lately. But Valley Park was the furthest community from The Cliffs – a good three hour shuttle ride. She knew that it wasn’t by any means an insurmountable difference, but her parents and her little brother and sister wouldn’t just be round the corner. They wouldn’t be able to spend as much time with her boys.

‘Or’, she silently whispered to the unborn child she carried, so new that only she and her husband knew about them, ‘with you’.

‘Emilie’, Michael called, ‘Your sister’s here to see you’.

Emilie groaned. Someone else to pick on her. Dad, Mum, now Rebekah. They were all ganging up on her. Ugh.

‘I’m going to join your mum and David at the park’, Michael said. ‘I’ll see you both soon’.

Emilie rolled her eyes. Could they be any more obvious? She sat next to her sister, obligingly but looked into space, deliberately defiant. She heard the door click shut and braced herself for the latest round of interrogations.

Rebekah didn’t say anything, though, just fixed her sister with a quizzical look. Emilie, disarmed, was puzzled. ‘What?’

‘Oh, nothing really. Just wondering.’

‘Wondering what?’

‘Oh. I don’t know. What’s upsetting you?’

Emilie was slightly taken aback. She was expecting to be told off again, to be asked why she was behaving so oddly – nobody had ever suggested she was upset. Her parents’ concern had always seemed more like exasperation. She was surprised to find her eyes were prickled with tears. Where had they come from? When Rebekah leaned over to squeeze her hand, she didn’t resist.

Rebekah let go but kept her gaze fixed on Emily as her little sister began to unfurl. ‘It’s so unfair. They just don’t understand, they don’t know what it’s like’

‘In what way, Em?’

‘They don’t understand, they keep saying I can’t do stuff like go cliff-walking because I’m too young, but it’s only a few months and it’s so stupid.’

‘Em, if it’s only a few months, why does it matter so much?’

‘You’re just as bad as them. Why should I wait? My friends are going, why can’t I?’

‘Which friends?’

‘ALL OF THEM’.

‘Really? I thought Sabina and Dina were younger than you.’

‘Well not Sabina and Dina, but everyone else. Teresa and Erin and Elly and Max and Sam and Nick and Kelly and Ivan and everyone.’

Rebekah’s ears pricked up at this. ‘I didn’t know you were friends with Ivan.’

Flushed, Emilie looked at her feet.

‘Yeah, well. Anyway. It’s just not fair’.

‘Rules are rules, Em. You know this. And if they’re good friends, they won’t mind that you have to wait. There are other things you can do besides cliff-walking’.

Emilie tutted. Clearly her sister hadn’t realised that Ivan was the best cliff-walker in the community.

‘Listen Em. I know it seems unfair, but it’s not Mum and Dad’s fault. They’re just following orders. You don’t want them to get into trouble, do you?’

‘No. But…’

‘I know. It’s unfair. But it’s for your safety. And those months will pass soon, I promise.’

As soon as she’d said the words, Rebekah wanted to rewind them. By the time Emilie was fourteen and old enough, she’d be living in a new community. Rebekah bit her lip and mentally wished her promise to be forgotten.

‘Mum and Dad love you, you know.’

‘Not as much as you or Steven or David though.’

‘That’s not true. They just… you’re just… things are tricky right now, with Mum’s job being hard and you having a hard time, and it’s not always easy. It doesn’t mean they don’t love you or want the best for you’.

Emilie fixed her sister with a confused stare. ‘Mum’s job is hard?’

Rebekah stuttered. ‘Well, yeah. Of course. But, you know, it’s, she’ll be OK. The main thing is you, what we can do to make you happy.’

‘They could let me go cliff-walking.’

‘They can’t, and you know they can’t. But there must be other things you can do.’

Emilie stared back into the distance, thinking about Ivan, thinking about how he would never like her if she couldn’t cliff-walk, and about how behind the others she would be if she had to wait. He would always think she was stupid, just a kid.

Rebekah looked at her sister anxiously. She wasn’t sure she’d helped matters. She smiled inwardly at Emilie’s apparent thinking of Ivan as “the one”. Rebekah knew full well they weren’t suitable, and Emilie’s perfect mate would no doubt be someone they met in Valley Park. There was plenty of time for that, though. Rebekah remembered how she’d briefly thought Aaron Teller was wonderful when she wasn’t much older than Emilie. But eventually she and Laurence had realised they were a perfect match (thanks, she had to admit, to their teachers and friends) and now she couldn’t imagine being with anyone but him, nor Aaron being with anyone but Lana.

‘None of this seems easy right now, Em’ Rebekah said.

‘But trust me. One day you will see that it was all for the best. Whatever happens, Emilie, know one thing – it will all work out as it was meant to.’

The Glens

Bryan Light had been hoping for a quiet day at home, but the sound of the doorbell soon put paid to those illusions.

He opened the door to see Kathy and Mike there.

‘Good morning, Bryan. I hope we’re not disturbing you’.

There wasn’t really an answer to that – what could he say? He was tending to his garden? He had been enjoying sitting on the sofa and having some quiet time. They knew Carole was away visiting her mother in The Bay.

‘No, no, of course not. Come in.’

As he prepared coffee, he wondered what they could have to say to him, and suspected it wouldn’t be something he wanted to hear.

‘The reason we’ve come to see you is that we’ve got something to ask you. I’m sure, like us, you were saddened by Martin’s death’.

Bryan nodded. Martin had been a prominent figure in The Glens as long as he’d lived here. The man had been in his sixties, one of the eldest members of the community, and he had been the first one to die since Bryan had lived here, the first resident of The Glens to ever die, in fact, so it had hit the community hard.

‘No-one likes to do this, but we need to think about his replacement’.

‘Replacement?’

‘As our representative on the council’.

‘Oh. Yes. Right’.

‘We’ve talked to everyone and your name was the one that came up most’.

Everyone except me and Carole, Bryan thought, but he nodded.

Kathy continued, ‘It’s a very important role, and, as you know, there is a lot of ill-feeling about the delays’.

Bryan knew. And he knew he didn’t really like the idea of being the one to represent that ill-feeling to the council.

‘But wouldn’t one of the other representatives, from The Meadows or The Hills or Lakeside be a better option? Someone who’s had experience on the residents’ panel already? I mean, I’ve never even been to a panel meeting’.

‘The residents’ panel have expressed a strong interest in someone from The Glens carrying on in that role. Martin was so good at it and they feel that the views of the people here are most representative of the general feeling’.

That, or they’re all too scared to be the scapegoat, Bryan thought.

‘What would it mean?’

‘Well, working as our community representative, gathering feedback from our meetings to feed into the residents’ committee…’

‘…and then collating the views of the residents’ committee to take to the council. All in all, it would be three meetings a month; our community meeting, the residents’ committee, and the council – and, of course, you would be rewarded with time in lieu of the latter two’.

Bryan wasn’t sure that was such a great deal. He liked work, it was fulfilling. He wasn’t sure committee meetings and council meetings were going to have quite the same attraction.

‘I think I would need to discuss this with my wife’.

‘We really don’t see Carole objecting.’

I do, Bryan thought, expecting she would feel as reluctant for him to take on this poisoned chalice as he was. But he knew there would be little point either of them questioning it. The community had, apparently, spoken.

He supposed he should see it as an honour. He knew he’d been chosen because he got on with everybody, was well-liked and seen as reasonable. He knew he was capable of putting his point across without getting into a heated argument – it was what made him a good head teacher. But he didn’t relish having to spend time away from the school, even if it was just for two afternoons a month.

He also was one of the residents who personally wasn’t entirely comfortable with the unrest and the ill-feeling in the communities. It was one of the key differences between ‘the born’ and ‘the bred’ as they unofficially called themselves.

He remembered as a young boy how his parents and teachers, all members of the bred, would speak of the plan – the plan that these small communities would one day grow to be a powerful nation, an example and an influence to ‘the world’. For most of the bred, the vision infused their actions, their plans were all couched in the language of ‘when’ – they were living for a day that was to come, a future they felt so assured of.

He knew that he and his fellow born were meant to share this vision – and some did – but there were others, like him, like Carole, like several of those he saw from time to time whose eyes flickered with fear whenever the community meeting spoke of ‘the plan’ and their dissatisfaction at the delays, who were afraid. He didn’t know any ‘world’ beyond their own, beyond the twelve small communities that called themselves a country. He’d only ever moved once, from The Meadows to The Glens when he was a boy.

He knew the doctrine, he could recite from heart the mission statement of their country, printed on every book printed here, every community building, every page on their computer communications network:

Beacon exists to promote a better way of life for those who live here, that we might be a hope and example to all the world

Yet he didn’t feel he understood this message. He knew, somewhere, there was supposed to be a different world out there, people who weren’t like them, people who were deviant, repressed, in need of salvation and redirection, but somehow he couldn’t conceive of them, couldn’t imagine what they were like. And so he knew his own judgement would always be clouded by this inexperience.

He looked at Kathy and Mike.

‘I’ll accept on one condition’.

‘Which is?’

‘I don’t go as sole representative, but I take a member of the bred with me’.

Kathy sighed.

‘You can’t talk about ‘the born’ and ‘the bred’ in such ways if you’re going to sit on council. You know such terms are frowned upon. We are all residents.’

Bryan nodded.

‘I know. And I won’t. But let’s not pretend the divisions and distinctions don’t exist. I don’t know what it is like to have been a bred, to have experienced what they have, and so I don’t understand the ‘world’ we are meant to be an example to.’

Mike sighed. ‘You know we’re looking at measures to address this in the school curriculum’.

‘Yes, which is taught, at least in part, by people like me, people who have no idea about this world that the bred talk about’.

Mike stuttered, ‘That was done in the early days to protect residents from things they didn’t need to know about at the time. It was a mis… it wasn’t, perhaps, with hindsight, looking back, er, the best strategy, maybe, that it could have been’.

‘But you understand my concern’, Bryan said, looking Mike directly in the eye, then turning to Kathy and fixing her with the same gaze. ‘Don’t sell it as ‘born’ and ‘bred’, of course. Find me someone who can act as an assistant, or an apprentice, if you like, someone who might follow in my footsteps. There must be some eager young thing, fresh out of The Academy, who would be very keen on the idea’.

Kathy and Mike looked at each other.

‘It is very unorthodox’ Kathy replied.

‘You know me. I’ve never done anything remotely unorthodox in my life’, Bryan shot back. ‘This is why you should take me seriously’.

‘It will have to go to council’ Mike said.

‘Fine. But who is going to take that to council?’ Bryan countered. ‘The residents’ council representative? And who might that be?… Oh yes, me, I do believe. So put the feelers out to the other communities and find me a co-worker. After all, when there are two residents on the council, they might just start to listen’.

Location classified

Jennifer stretched out, contentedly. The gentle breeze ruffled the hairs on her neck and she felt a tingle pass all the way from the bottom of her spine to the nape of her neck and back again. The sun beating down on them, the greenery of their small garden, and Leif, here by her side with their friends around them – if she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was in paradise.

In the moments they were able to tune out that there might be anything beyond the walls behind them and the fences in front of them, taller and thicker than any they’d ever seen, then The Academy could feel like a haven. For most of them, it was a chance to spend hours every day in pursuits they enjoyed, surrounded by people they liked, people they were maybe even beginning to love.

Ando and Nita sat, hands gently interlaced, each engrossed in their fantasy about what they would do when their time here was over. They’d been told there were a number of openings for people with their skillsets, and Ando fancied himself as a systems programmer, whilst Nita was interested in becoming a software designer.

Ando hadn’t said as much to Nita, fearing it was too soon, but he already knew that he wanted five children, six if she’d prefer, though he would compromise on four. He thought of his parents and how proud they would be of him, not only excelling in The Academy but also finding a wonderful, beautiful young woman who would one day be his wife.

Niamh watched her friends: Jennifer and Leif, Nita and Ando, Tracy and Aaron, all seemingly blissfully happy with one another…

…Keisha and Jamal, still trying to deny the spark between them that everyone else could see, but each day becoming more and more familiar in their body language, more and more flirtatious in their interactions, inching ever closer to their collective destiny.

There was Ollie, not yet realising how much Katja was smitten with him, still feeling uncomfortable in his own skin…

…and Irina, trying everything in her power to convince Jacques they would be a perfect couple. Niamh didn’t understand why her best friend persisted with this. Irina knew Jacques was gay, surely she didn’t think she could convert him?

Besides, Sara was still trying to engineer things so that Niamh and Jacques would work together. Niamh liked Jacques very much, he was a good friend and she enjoyed his company, but there was no way she was going to let them force her to be with him. She didn’t know how she was going to resist it, but she would find a way.

Because there was him.

She would never, ever tire of looking at those toned abs, that tight stomach, that peachy behind…

But Ethan didn’t even seem to realise she was a girl and not just a training buddy. She’d noticed Liana, hanging around him, trying to get her way with him, and Niamh’s heart cracked a little every time she saw him as much as say hello to that girl.

She wasn’t sure the staff team approved of the idea of Liana and Ethan yet – she’d never seen them paired up together, and Ethan’s partners in lessons seemed to shift. Maybe that meant things weren’t decided for him. Maybe that meant she was in with a chance, but she didn’t know how to make it clear.

Nobody here asked each other to be boyfriend and girlfriend, they just sort of eased into it – or else watched everyone else ease into it. Niamh still didn’t understand the unwritten rules here that meant some couples were allowed to hold hands, cuddle and spend time together, whilst others seemed to have every obstacle thrown in their path.

‘A penny for them?’

Niamh looked up to see Sara looming over her.

‘Come on, I have to talk you’.

Reluctantly, Niamh followed Sara in. As they entered the building, Liana passed them, and Niamh felt like kicking something. Now Liana was certainly going to make a move for Ethan.

‘Niamh. I don’t think you really understand how important it is that you and Jacques’

Sara’s voice dropped to a whisper.

‘That you and Jacques become friends’.

Niamh feigned a smile. ‘We are friends’.

Sara felt exasperated. What was with this girl? Why couldn’t she see that being with Jacques was her only hope of being allowed to be who she was? Sara would give anything to be that age again, and to feign an interest in a man. She’d heard rumours that for those that managed to succeed in the pretence, sometimes they found others like them, sometimes they were able to still be themselves – as long as it was in private and they maintained a happy marriage, had children, did what was expected. If only she could go back in time two years to when she was still a student here. If only she had made different choices, behaved differently.

And then, the thought she’d been trying to push to the back of her mind surfaced, raging so strongly it was everything she could do not to blurt it out. If only there was a way she could be with Niamh…