18:30

The last remnants of orange sunlight peaked its way through the airports windows. Busy as it was the collection aisle was quiet, the sound of constant moving luggage on a dodgy conveyer belt filling the uneasy peace made by the passengers. With a cold composition of blues and purples, the area was void of joy. Passengers seemed unfulfilled with their predicament. Graced by the sights of New London only to be shunted into their respective sectors once more. A fruitless holiday spent worrying about there homes being gone by the time they returned. Business trips spent in locations exotic enough to be deemed beautiful only to return to the dour bleakness of British architecture. Jackie stood out amongst the crowd. Her long flowing skirt coloured in white surrounded by flowers of yellow and red. Her hair a distinct blue and tied in a ponytail. Black shawl covered her white blouse that was just a little too small for her. She fidgeted with it as she watched the luggage slowly trail past her. She looked to the screen above her. It displayed the names of every passenger on their specific flight.

“Flight 235, Berlin to New London.”

She was already missing Germany, a quiet life for herself as an artist was all she wanted. An apartment to herself and a stable job in animation. It was the perfect normal life. Like always however, her father appeared to ruin it. She watched as the names of the prompt begin to light up green, marking the luggage collected from the conveyer belt. For about half an hour, she watched the conveyer belt rotate around, the collection of suitcases and bags getting ever smaller with every revolution. Still her luggage was no where to be seen. After several more rotations and as the crowd began to dissipate Jackie’s name turned yellow and a rush of annoyance and disappointment moved through her.

“Now, like right now?”

She whispered under her breath at the indication that there was a problem with her luggage. From behind she felt a forceful hand press against her shoulder. She turned and met the eyes of a security enforcer. Decked out in bullet proof armour coloured in black with red around the rims. He wore a black visor over his eyes. His bottom face was rough with growing stubble and scared lips.

“Miss Windsor, can you come with me please.”

He spoke robotically, like linked to some form of hive mind.

Jackie composed herself but felt slight terror at the gentleman’s appearance. It had been ten years since she lived in Britain and not one of those memories remembered security guards looking like this.

“Of course.”

She said as confidently as possible, she didn’t scare easily but the suddenness of his appearance startled her greatly.

He didn’t respond just nodded and turned, walking through the crowd with an expectation for her to follow. They weaved through the crowd, Jackie losing her lead only to find him again seemingly miles in front. As previous passengers left, several more would appear. A constant flow of passengers felt like fighting the tide. Pushing past waves of people only for more to overwhelm her. She saw the enforcer turn left suddenly and rejoiced at the ability to escape this crowd. Turning she found herself in a less crowded hallway, above the corridor a sign read security. All that she could see was several figures sitting around, anxiously waiting to be introduced to the security of the airport. Weaponry was held by the men that guarded them, shotguns loaded and ready to use on any possible threats.

“Wait here.”

Jackie’s guard turned and pointed at the makeshift waiting area. It was a mess of mould, fluids and people. All seemingly wanting to be somewhere else. A businessman sat, eyes glowing yellow, talking to himself. No doubt he was interlinked with someone complaining about his plight. A woman shadily side eyed the area from the floor. She shook terrified, knees up to her bust and holding them. Jackie stood between them in what little space was offered. Looking at the panicked woman Jackie felt some form of pity.

“Is everything ok mam?”

Jackie asked trying her best to be polite. The woman only looked at Jackie and then back at the ground. Her eyes wide and her forehead seemingly sweating.

“I wouldn’t talk to her if I were you.”

The businessman now finished with his conversation turns to Jackie with a smile. He was a plump middle aged man with a balding set of hair, he wore a disjointed suit and tie, with a nametag placed on the right breast.

“Simon.” It read in white italics.

“She’s clearly out of it. Probably dealing with a case of the Sunspots.”

Simon spoke with a narcissistic attitude that matched his apparent wealth.

Jackie gently looked at the woman, she looked around crazily, squinting her eyes at cones of light in the dimness and wincing at the larger ones in the distance.

“She’s too far gone with it. Probably a smuggler its why the boys in black thought she was a danger. Me however, I’ve done nothing wrong. These idiots just won’t listen to me. You hear me I’ve done nothing wrong.”

He shouts the last statement at one of the guards. The guard immediately aims his shotgun at Simon and screams. Simon immediately backs down in fear. The two guards laugh with one another, mocking Simon’s reaction.

“Jaqueline Windsor, we have someone here to see you.” A guard appears from behind an old wooden door, he holds it open for Jackie to enter. Simon perks up at this.

“And not me, I have been here for over an hour, where is my…”

Simons tirade is cut short by the guards furry.

“Speak against me or my boys one more time and I promise I will redecorate this hallway with the insides of your head, do yourself a favour and shut the fuck up!”

The guard looks back to Jackie and beckons her forward with his heavily gloved hand. Jackie gingerly walks forward avoiding the gaze of the guard as she walked past, briefly she hears a subtle remark from the guard under his breath.

“Leviathan scum.”

He says starring daggers into Simon. As she walks inside the guard forcefully closed the door, it hinges rattling at the aggression of his pull. The room was small, condensed with only a table and chair sitting in the middle. The walls were dirty white, and an extra guard was positioned at the other end of the room guarding another door. Sitting in the middle, smoking his mechanical cigar was Jackie’s father, George. Her heart sunk as she saw his face. A dishevelled shell of man. His hair was a long, greasy grey with bald patches barely visible near the top of his head. His face was worn out with heavy wrinkles atop his forehead and cheeks. His beard started off light brown but greyed as it continued outwards. He sat in his burgundy trench coat. His metallic claw where his left arm should be clutched the cigar like a claw machine collecting its prize. He smiled weakly making Jackie unsure if he was happy to see her.

“Sorry for the inconvenience my b… dear, it is not right for a member of the royal family to be stuck in luggage.”

He stands, cigar in mouth, patting down his body of discarded ash as he stood.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“I thought Daniel was picking me up?”

Jackie’s words are cold. She shows no interest in her father.

“He still is, he’s just outside, parked. I wanted to be the one to collect you.”

He looks her up and down, this was the first time he’d seen his daughter in ten years. By that point, he had seen her as a son.

“So, this is what you look like now? I must admit it will take some getting used to.”

His face showed one of concern. His words tried to show support but everything else told the opposite.

“Dad, I’m just off the plane. I feel awful, I’m tired. I have no interest in having this conversation with you right now. I expected to receive this kind of bullshit at the house at least. Instead, you blindside me with security guards and surprise visits. I didn’t want this; I want nothing to do with it. All I want is to get home and rest. Can you deal with not bringing my gender up till then? Can you please give me some peace till then?”

Jackie avoids eye contact. She looks at the floor and kicks her feet while her father remains silent.

“Very well. Your bags are already in the car. Daniel is just waiting for us outside. A little walk from here till were outside. I’ll show you the way.”

In silence George walks to the opposite door now opened by the security guard. Jackie follows behind somewhat. Her father walks with a purpose. His feet attempt to carry him with some sort of grace and calm. His outfit tells otherwise. The corridor is dark with limited lighting guiding them forward. Little stars of light blink from the ceiling into the dimness.

“I am sorry to pull you away so suddenly son. Things have become rather complicated for the both of us.”

His hands gently fall into his pockets. His left hand slightly peaking out of the ripped compartment. Jackie tunes him out, again he misgenders her. She wasn’t interested in whatever he had to say. The short walk was quiet for the time being. A group of grey doors opened on there own as they entered the airports car park. The sounds of the sector overwhelmed Jackie. The roaring of airplanes, the chugging of barely working cars. The constant sound of metal clanging against whatever was close to it. They all combined to make a nonsensical robotic hell sound. A sound that everyone but her seemed to be used too.

David stood patiently next to the family car, a 1978 Rolls-Royce Phantom VI State limousine. In the past it had this look of class and expense. Nowadays after years of usage and barely surviving the submerging of Buckingham, it resembled an ugly elongated 1965 Citroen Ami. Completely rusted, broken and barely working. Jackie thought it represented the royal family pretty well. The chauffer stood aside and grabbed at the door. After several tugs it eventually opened. He apologised for the inconvenience but Jackie just smiled and entered the car. Her father joined Daniel at the front and everyone just sat in prolonged silence. The car took several seconds to start and once it let out a miserable chug, it slowly glided across the parking lot and onto the road. With the sun now gone the city’s lights brought a heavenly glow to the sky. The neon sick Central sector overcrowded the skyline in advertisements and spotlights, fighting against the moon to own the night sky. The centre of New Britannia beamed like a great beacon displaying itself as the ideal area to live. While around it, shrouded in faint purples and pinks. The other sectors seemed miserable in comparison. The densely populated areas seemed abandoned as the arrogance of the supposedly New London outshined them. It was a nauseating sight. A sight she knew was created by her father. Overpowering and completely engulfing everything however, the so called Super dams towered above all, Behind them a constant and endless void of water, an eternal trail of ruin. The dams were the only thing preventing New Britannia from ending up like the rest of the United Kingdom, submerged by an ever-growing flood looking to submerge everything it can. Jackie remembers when they were barely the size of an average apartment complex. Constant work and upgrades have created the ultimate barrier from total destruction. Without them New Britannia or more plainly The United Kingdom would cease to exist.

“How does it look? Berlin could never am I right?”

Her father interrupted her thoughts. He was turned in his chair grinning ear to ear.

“It looks claustrophobic. Like a prison.”

She stared out the window disgusted observing the blank metal, all twisting upward into the digital hell above.

“I feel as though its captured me and its never gonna let me leave.”

Jackie took a sigh of disappointment and George sat back in his chair, his attempts at positivity failing again. He did not know how to communicate with her.

“Well at least tell me what Berlin was like? I haven’t seen it in years.”

“It’s nice, they didn’t cave into creating some form of metallic utopia, everyone accepted the fate that was dealt to them. They prepared protection from the flood but didn’t enclose themselves in fear. Just believed in allowing for the inevitable and preparing to survive it.”

She thought fondly of the ideals of Germany. It was known as one of the last completely dry areas of Europe and was well expected to be one of the last locations on Earth to be completely submerged. Yet no one was afraid. It all felt calm, freeing. New Britannia didn’t come anywhere close.

“But what about possessions, society? Everything would just be gone.”

George turned himself around slightly trying to continue the conversation.

“Of course, that was a worry. But what is a possession compared to your life. Worrying about every little thing will just drive you insane or kill you in a time of crisis. They removed those feelings and decided to just be happy with what they had. Everything just felt right. I look out my window and see this, this metal atrocity. All I can see is an infrastructure built on paper. A collection of buildings designed to be destroyed when touched by water.”

The drive wasn’t too long. Around 20 minutes. By that point the clear skyline of The Central Sector was replaced with the overgrown trees and foliage of South Sector, or the Elizabeth Sector. Now outside of Jackie’s window was old Victorian style buildings with clashing modern upgrades. A monstrosity of brick and metal as far as the eye can see. With untrimmed bush that covered several of the cyborg like architecture. The roads were overgrown as well, with tree roots slightly breaking out of the concrete to create an unchecked road hazard. After the completion and corporate takeover of Central Sector, Elizabeth had become nothing more but a dishevelled ghost town, filled with those who attempted to become something, but crumbled into nothing. The misery of what was became an atmosphere in itself. It felt of nothing but hopelessness. The car turned into a large rusted, black gate followed by a dirt pathway overcrowded by trees and plant life.

Langley castle sat isolated in the newly grown Royal forest, named after those who took up residency in this castle turned hotel. The brick had begun to crack, looking similar to a ruin than a luxury home for those of royalty. The modern looking glass houses connected to the side of the castle had begun to show signs of rejection. With the foundations cracking almost peeling off of the brick surface. The car crudely parks on a gravel footpath and sputters to a holt, letting out a loud sigh of relief as if it was glad to be stopped. The occupants of the vehicle removed themselves from the inside and slowly moved towards the building. David stayed back. Unpacking serval suitcases of luggage. The crunching of gravel loudly breaks the silence as the distant sounds of civilisation screams in the background. An unnatural planted beauty, the artificial trees blow in the ever dying breeze and the plastic grass settles in the moonlight. Lamps sit atop the entrance and lights the way.

Inside, father and daughter sit quietly in the living quarters. Both being interrupted by Gertrude asking them several questions about tea preferences and dinner ideas. They causally shoo her away. The room itself is ancient. Family crests and shields decorate the red painted walls, a warm fire crackles sombrely in the background with a large, pictured painting of King William in his younger years. Couches of cloth barely looked after, dissipate and fall apart at the seams. The analogue television highlighting the forward facing wall hums quietly as the news directs it’s time to the ongoing scandal against Leviathan.

“So, what are you doing about them?”

Jackie finally decides to speak, unsure how good the idea was.

“With the heavy evidence against them its only a matter of time before I’m sent to investigate and clean up the mess. There’s still those in the House of Lords that believe it to be untrue. What with the generous donations Leviathan has made to us in the past.”

George begins to fill his metal cigar with tobacco. He closes the lid, and the device begins to heat up.

“You better do something about it. Funding people like Black Death shouldn’t be a scandal that’s discussed. I feel like the answer is an easy one.”

She crosses her legs and sips her tea gently and lady like.

“With corporations it isn’t easy. These guys basically fuel Britannia’s economy. Removing one could see the whole thing collapse. They have so much money, removing it and giving it to the people or the government could cause an inflation crisis. It’s a situation that shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

With the cigar finally glowing green. George begins to smoke.

“I wonder whose fault that is?”

She says sarcastically under her breath. George puffs away the smoke and sighs.

“I’m not interested in arguing tonight, Jackie. If you have nothing else worthwhile to say I suggest you head to bed. Tomorrow is going to be busy for you. We’re announcing your arrival to the press.”

George sets his device down, his metal claw slightly twitching as he does so.

“You’re wasting your time dad, No one cares about the royal family anymore. We are Bonafede tourist attractions.”

Jackie puts her tea down and climbs to her feet. She sighs and heads for the stairs. George chuckles and turns to her one last time.

“What a tourist attraction you’ll be then. The first ever transgender Queen of England.”