12TH AUGUST 2460 (EARTH GREGORIAN CALENDAR)
BIRMINGHAM, UNITED COMMONWEALTH
EARTH
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This planet was supposed to be humanity's cradle, our own chunky slice of heaven, near the edge of the Orion Arm. Yet it didn't matter how advanced your world was, or the wealth of your economy. No levels of technology could shield us all from those metal beasts, terrorising the populace each waking morning. Abruptly ending all sense of peaceful control, as its blaring pierced into the blood of our eardrums, tainting our minds that we were all stuck in the same shitty boat, with no land in sight. Somehow, nobody felt paranoid whenever the source was in their restful possession, nor even the slightest bit regretful of its presence. Nevertheless of their opinions, I loathed them more than the cruelest of those who roamed the Milky Way.
Alarm clocks.
The greatest bane to my existence.
"Bloody hell," I muttered. My eyes were practically sealed shut, and the rest of my body suddenly decided to turn me into a paraplegic, repressing any movement within even a single muslce. Dammit, there went any chance of me throwing that nuclear warhead of a machine across the room. We could've used those machines against the Zorak Empire, bled their tiny lizard ears to death.
Five more minutes it had continue to howl on my side, with a pitch with the strength to have almost pounded my head. And all that lingered on in my mind were the distorted mental voices, screeching in demand for its end over and over again. And yet, within that time, I only gained the energy to have stuck up my middle finger. But alarm clocks clearly had no soul, so what good that would have done?
Twenty-nine years old, from a literal technological utopia and I just couldn't be asked to get out of bed when it was so needed. Well, not really needed. Not like I've had a job for the past few months.
A few more minutes had passed, and he was pretty sure all sense of my audible sanity had upped and buggered off home. Thankfully, I gained the energy to nudge my right arm, but only with intense strain, yet I had no choice if his mind was to become this machine's personal nightclub. I managed to position my arm on top of the alarm clock, and with a simple smack on the floor, the beeping had finally met its end.
"Finally," I muttered. Entrenching my head deeper into the fabric haven, in comfort that the great metal beast that had disturbed the peace had been slain.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Shit.
In almost a flash at that moment, a river of rage suddenly burned all throughout my veins, as if the mentality of an awakened volcano had unleashed its mighty lava into my mind, ripping me out of this comfy paradise, and nabbing the fallen clock off the floor. I stormed off the carpet of my bedroom, and onto the rough oak floor of the flat's kitchen lounge, tossing the soulless prick out the window.
I turned my back without a second thought, before the sound of a crashing car rumbled from across the world, with a blaring orchestra of screeching cars following afterwards. I shut the window, hopefully able to pretend none of that happened.
Again, I turned my gaze, before groaning as I stared across the dump of my flat; cheese and onion crisp packets were scattered all across the floor, empty beer cans were junked like a newborn landfill, the dishes were stacked like a game of Jenga in the toilet, and the air was thick with the stench of rat corpses in the vents. Christ, did I go on a bender again? Have a party? Most likely the first, my flat wasn't that big.
I opened the fridge, only to be met with disappointment, as all the food inside were either spoiled or... marmite. Why did I even have that? I hated marmite. Wasn't any coffee either. Screw it, I can eat out later. Still had money in my account, right?
Wasn't always this introverted jungle I shoved myself into. Obviously, it was a lot nicer when I still had a career in journalism. It was a small company, the EZ Report. Basically, all we did was summarise information so even a child could understand what was going on across the stars. I mean, it wasn't anything special. We were based online, competing with thousands of other newspaper companies in the English-speaking nations, so the usual business environment. The articles I wrote were mainly on whatever was happening on the frontlines against those imperialistic, bipedal lizard bastards we all know as the Zoraks. Or maybe an uprising in the Russian colonies. Bit of boring ol' politics, you name it.
And then came the bureaucratic bullshit.
A disorganised business merger, it was. More financial problems instead of solutions ensued, screwing people like me over. There were meant to be regulations in place in case things like this happened, but absolute bugger-all happened. Not even the employment agency could help us out because they were too busy dealing with the poor sods in the outer systems; the lost and the hungry. (Actually, I couldn't really blame them).
I dabbled with a few other careers on my own after that: telemarketing, shopkeeper, caretaker, journalism again before discovering we were spouting blatant nonsense over the internet, pretty much whatever helped me stay on my feet. Last time, it was something in copywriting. Now, I was once again some poor sod living off government welfare until I can come across another one.
Screw all those cliche 'never give up' sayings, I thought. Here was my motto, unless you can find a way around it, just quit! Never mind, that's awful advice!
I dropped onto the sofa, barely possessing any will to bother cleaning up the place. Surprisingly, there was a breakfast banana ready for me to eat on the table. Switching on the HV (Holovision for those of you who are still stuck with a plain old TV). It defaulted to the UCN, one of the country's main news channels. I know it was important to keep up on what was happening, but I swear they had the same structure every single time they aired.
"This morning, on UCN."
BOM BOM.
"Manchester United player, Kevin Uxbridge, has recently been charged with assault after footage was revealed online of him attacking Liverpool FC goalkeeper, Tariq Khalil, after running into him at a corner shop."
BOM BOM.
"Former android Prime Minister of Canada and well-renowned Robot-Rights activist, Scot Bradley, passed away in a malfunction yesterday at the age of two-hundred and six."
BOM BOM.
"And the frontline stalemate between the HET-A Forces and the UN's Coalition Fleet has been broken, as a new tactic involving cyberwarfare rendered half of the HET-A starships' weaponry immobile. Chancellor Hakim said in Downing Street yesterday that this method is a major stepping stone to bring this war to an end after decades of stalemate."
And then came some graphics with the dramatic theme in the background before any actual reports started. Could've spiced it up a bit. Maybe taking the piss every now and then, that's what we did back at the company.
A marimba tune suddenly pinged from my phone, just on the table. I tilted my head below, seeing a couple messages on the device's holographic display. It was from a friend of mine, Ashley. Wanted to invite me over to the pub with another friend, Marek, for dinner. Well, at least I had a reason to get out of the flat.
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It was a mistake to walk to the pub. Could have taken the car, or public transport, but no. The me from twenty minutes ago thought it was a good idea to 'take a nice stroll on this beautiful sunny day' like I was an introvert's mother. Beautiful? Probably. Nice stroll? I felt like I was struggling my way through the bloody Sahara. Now I knew why that suited guy was so easily pissed, he had to walk all through this heat. Twenty-eight degrees, the weather app reported, for the whole of the week. Might as well have been living on the sun. Felt like I took this damp island's depressing weather for granted.
Still, the sights provided a bit of a distraction. Birmingham was honestly like every other city on Earth. Holographic advertisements and allied supremacist propaganda were displayed left, right and centre, illuminating like an expansive rainbow in the setting sun. Crystalline atmoscrapers stretched kilometres into the sky, staring over us like colonies of ants, skittering under the trees. Monorails spanned above the roads, a train or two dashing across every minute or so. Multicoloured summer parties playing eras of pop music were also held on the rooftops of nightclub buildings, mostly either teenagers enjoying their freedom away from the shitload of school responsibilities, guy's/girl's night out, or just those having a mid-life crisis.
There were a couple large transport starships flying over the city, closing in for the landing at the city starport. They mostly imported supplies from allied or national colonies, since most industries faired far better offworld compared to our heavily urbanised society. Plus Earth virtually had no more valuable resources. Well, it did. Just not as plentiful.
Finally arrived at the pub. The Alford Arms, it was titled. Marked in a holographic sign out front. With the architecture resembling an ancient inn. Despite buried under miles of bustling infrastructure, its customer base remained plentiful. Plus, the chips were excellent, absolutely morish. Ashley and Marek were already inside, watching Match of the Day on the pub's holovision.
I entered, basking in the glory of the building's air conditioning, and sat down by them, just after ordering a beer and some chips. "You all right?"
Ashley rested on her hand, and glared at me from head to stomach. "Clearly better than how you've been doing. D'you go on another bender last night or what?"
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"Probably did," I scoffed. A smug-looking android passed by, placing my pint and chips on the table.
"I'm pretty sure you definitely did. You sure you want to have alcohol again?"
"Better to go on a bender with your mates than completely alone. Besides, what's gonna happen to me? Liver cancer?" I laughed. Jesus I sounded like an immature teenager. And I was almost thirty!
"Oh come on, that was not offside!" Marek cried amongst the other football hooligans, before deciding to abandon his watch of the game. "Oh hey, Nolan," Marek said. "How's your novel going?"
"Sorry, what?"
"You're writing a novel aren't you?" He said. "You're a writer."
"Of news articles, mate. And no. I'm currently between jobs at the moment." I couldn't have just blurted that I'm jobless now, could've I? This was Earth, the breathing Utopia, the central Babylon of the stars.
"The job agency giving you any offers? Lots of companies out there with your expertise."
He wasn't wrong, I've had plenty of job offers, some I bothered taking to make a few more pounds as you already know. But none of them as good as the job I had. I was a fool to have not went full time with those jobs straight away when I needed the money, but my ego unfortunately had other plans.
"They're about as useless as... I don't know, men's nipples?" Yes I actually said that. Don't question it, I was as big of an idiot as anyone else back then. "Just been living off what finance they could give me. Enough for me to pay the bills and that."
"Well better than nothing, I guess." It was actually much better than nothing, but I held my tongue on the comment. "How's Amilia? I did get your your sister's name right?"
"Yeah, yeah. She's fine." I replied, "Still decompressing from Summer exams, but fine."
"Oof, sorry to hear that," Ashley said. "Always hated exams, you know. Made me feel like school was more about passing than learning."
David chuckled, "I can barely remember a thing from school. Don't even understand the point of cramming the entire structure of a plant cell into my head. Like how does that help? Not everyone wants to be a biologist!"
He had a point, actually, pretty much everybody had been speculating this for centuries. And still, nobody has bothered to deal with it despite how much we had advanced. We focused too much on colonisation, technological and economical progress instead.
"Speaking of jobs, I've actually been offered a new position at the company," Ashley mentioned.
"Oh really? Where?"
"They're developing this town over in Newfoundland, they're trying to turn it into a city. The company wants me and a couple others to transfer there."
"Technicals?! You working in Joseon's sodding IT!" I laughed. "What they want you for? How to create a PowerPoint slide?!"
"PowerPoint hasn't been a thing in three-hundred years, Nolan," Marek pointed out.
"Listen, this could be a great opportunity for me!"
"Oh, no. By all means, take it. I'm not discouraging you or anyth-" I just suddenly broke down wheezing. "You're an IT technician! I'm sorry, I just can't help it!"
"Take a drink, you'll calm down."
The whole pub cheered when Aston Villa scored a goal. A shaven man gave us our beers after. Ashley stated, "Never understood the appeal of some blokes kicking a ball around. Five or six hundred years of this game's existence and people would go to the lengths of beating up the other team's fans for the sake of it."
"Sports, politics, the lot, people have a habit of clinging to a team. To feel like they belong somewhere just out of satisfaction, thinking that their team makes them whole instead of the millions of other things they could do. Problem is, if the team's challenged so's the supporters. People make up their own realities and little cultures just to cope with their group's nature and to stick it to their opponents, constantly thinking that they're right and everyone else is wrong..." I paused. Bloody hell, I barely had a quarter of a pint, where was all this random bullshit coming from? Did I have an allergic reaction or something? A stroke?
"Nolan, what the fuck are you talking about?" Marek asked. "W- where did all that shit come from?!"
"Sorry, don't know why I said all that."
"Right, I think you should stay away from beer, Nietzsche. How's lager for you?"
"Screw it, why not? Can we have a pint of lager please?!"
We exchanged stories for the next half hour. Ashley's uncle apparently established a new fishing business over in Plymouth, Marek was just telling a hilariously unfunny story about... gah, can't remember. I was too busy downing my lager just to ignore him. It did put me into a calm state, intellectual nonsense wasn't spouted, the happy chemicals ejaculated from my brain. The effects were like something out of a bloody sitcom.
After a few more pints, I eyed two figures coming to our table. I was still level-headed enough to identify them, at least compared to Ashley, who was on the twilight of collapsing. And Marek was off singing like a brain-damaged Freddy Mercury at the karaoke.
Both stood out from the rest of the pub. A couple were snarled at by some intoxicated customers, others just stared like they were the audience of a freak show.
One of them was a tall cloaked figure, sort of invoking the image of a knock-off of the grim reaper. Though, he was wearing some sort of metal pointed mask to conceal his face from... a pub filled with football hooligans? What was he, wearing a West Brom shirt? Even then, a cloak in the summer did not do well at all if you didn't want to spread the stench of a walking corpse.
The other was the more normal of the two. He was a just a pale kid, about eleven or twelve. Though his clothing looked to have been a weird mesh between casual and just plain cheap apparel, and his left arm had seem to have been completely artificial. Though it was more or less like something you would have seen within the desolate scrap mountains of a landfill planet.
I managed to shove a sobriety pill in my mouth from the tray in the middle of the table, and within seconds my mind straightened.
"Who dafuq uhr yooooo?" Ashley asked the two.
"Ash, lookie here I've got a cheeseburger," I said to her, holding another pill out. Before you ask - yes, this works. I've been using the same method on her since Sixth Form and somehow succeeded every single time.
She snatched the pill out my hand, and swallowed it immediately before collapsing onto the table. It was gonna take longer with her to recover. Sobriety hit depending on how drunk you were, I think. I don't know I wasn't a scientist.
"Right, sorry about her," I said to them. "Now, uhh, can I help you?"
"Are you Naakesh Kumar?" The large one questioned in a calm, deep tone, though his accent wasn't like anything I've heard. Neither inner or colonial.
"I go by Nolan." I didn't have a good reason why, I just preferred the name.
"You have two names? Strange." The boy next to him gave him a look that just said 'Why in the galaxy are you acting like a sheltered android, you cockhead'.
"Strange indeed, Darth Chewbacca," I said sarcastically. "You can sit down if you want, you know."
They both settled down. Ashley abruptly sprung to life. "Hoooooly mother of Satan I feel weird. Hold on, who's these two?"
"Meet Gulliver and his envoy from Lilliputa," I said.
"Should I be offended by that?" The boy said. His accent I was able to recognise - Outer Colonial American. Interviewed a couple of them back when I was doing a story in New Chicago.
"Just ignore him, kid," she said.
The big one questioned again, "You are Lance Corporal Nolan Kumar, correct? Fourteenth Armoured Colonial Division?"
Ashley stared at them in disbelief, before looking at me, almost wanted to burst out laughing.
Before I responded, the boy pulled out a holo-tablet. Immediately displaying a group photo of a company of armoured British soldiers squatting and sitting in front of a H-G6 Mongrel Tank. It consisted of a mixture of Humans, Sentient Androids and a couple Martian Drones.
"This is you, isn't it?" The boy said smiling, pointing to one of the soldiers on the left side. "You were part of the company that single handedly liberated the city of Masat, right? Took down the Separatist leader?"
What? When did I- oh fuck, that's what they were on about. I did mention I was in the army right? No? Never mind then, now you know. I'd have thought they were aligned with the remnants of the opposing forces but the kid stared at me like I was Superman or something.
Ashley's urge just dropped, and she took a good look at the photo herself. Staring back at me, unable to search for the words to say.
"Look, what exactly do you want?" I asked.
"We have a job you may be interested in. Given your military experience, you're qualifiable to enrol in our party. You are unemployed at the moment, yes?" The big one remarked. Would've asked how he knew but I probably set it on my social media status somewhere.
"Listen, I'd love to talk about this now but I'm currently busy with my friends." Shit, that was a terrible excuse! Didn't help that Marek was being held down by some of the android staff after getting into a drunken scrap with a couple football fans. "Here's my number, we can talk on the matter tomorrow," I finished, passing them my number on a piece of tissue. "Also, what were your names?" Didn't understand why they introduced themselves earlier.
The big one said, "I go by Ezek. Ezek Uxnov. My young companion here is Ryan Devon." Before leaving the pub. Ryan also waved goodbye to me.
"Nolan," Ashley said.
"Yeah?"
"When the hell did you join the army?!"
I stuttered in confusion for a bit, before getting my words straight. "You didn't know?!"
"Yes, I didn't know!"
"Where the hell did you think I went after university?!"
"I dunno, gap year?"
"I was gone for longer than a year though, wasn't I?!"
"Why the military though?! You're an Earther!"
"I didn't know what I wanted to do for my career, all right?! Also the pay... looked good."
"How much?"
"Forty-two thousand a year." I'm not gonna lie, they did actually reward us well.
"Well, that seems to be the only thing you got out of that then."
Couldn't remember much on what happened after that point. I recalled a police car arriving and arrested some of the football hooligans as well as Marek, since they consistently were somehow unable to get a pill into their mouths.
After that, I just head home. Took the monorail this time, and soon enough I was back in bed. No longer tainted with the threat of alarm clocks.
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The morning came, and I awoke completely refreshed. Did my morning routines, and actually bothered to clean up the mess around the flat. And got myself ready for some grocery shopping. But just as I opened the door, my heart jumped, as Ezek and Ryan stood right in front of the opening.
"Bloody hell! Were you standing there the whole time?!"
"No, we just arrived," the boy said.
"I thought we agreed to talk over the phone!"
"I believed it was more efficient to speak in person," the big one stated. How?!
I didn't question it, I just politely responded, "I'm going down to Zest to get some things. You can tag along if you want. We can talk about it along the way."
They accepted, and off we went.
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"What's the date today?" I asked, staring at the back of the milk carton.
"The fourteenth, why?" Ryan said.
"Jesus, this is a week outdated," I said, putting the carton back and picking out another one, before moving onto the cereal aisle. "Ezek?"
"What do you wish to query?"
"Where are you from? Your name, I can't place it. Same with your accent."
"He's Russian," Ryan spouted immediately. "Grew up on a uh... dark part of a space station. He's very sensitive to light, that's why he's wearing that cloak."
I didn't ask for his clearly bullshit life story but okay.
"What's the job you were offering?"
Ezek explained, "You are free to decline. Both of us are part of a scavenging ship known as the Artemis. At the moment, we have a vacancy for a member of the away team."
"Away team?" I scoffed. "On a scavenging ship?"
"Someone has to protect our cargo, right?" Ryan remarked.
"What's it involve?"
"You'll be a gunman, often supporting the salvaging of desolate starships," Ezek put in a nutshell.
"Pay?"
"Hmm?"
"What's the pay, mate?"
"It honestly depends. But at average, at least forty to sixty-thousand digicreds a year."
"Say no more, I'm sold," I stated.
"Just like that?"
"Yeah, sounds like fun," I lied. Sounds like fun? Jesus, Nolan, can't you ever think of a good excuse?
"Excellent. We will be leaving at eleven-twenty-five in the morning this Monday at the train station in the city centre. That should be enough time for you to pack your belongings. Here is the number for one of our crew members, he will fill you in on the requirements," Ezek passed me what seemed to be a low-effort business card, looking like it was rendered put of a toddler's computer presentation at the last minute. "Please do not bring along anything too large, your quarters will not be the size of your abode."
"Yeah, yeah, that's fine," I said happily. Finally glad I probably had a job to hold onto.