The South Sector (Elizabeth)

16:27

The black screen washes a cold chill down Georges spine. He sits idlily in his wilted wooden chair. His robotic claw arm latched across his metallic cigar. Puffing smoke through its vents to prevent congestion. He watches the screen intently. The bright glow of sunlight peeking through the curtains as his father rests next to him. Attached to wires and vents his father lays motionless in his bed. The heartbeat censer quietly beeping in the silence, the only indication that he remains alive. Picking up the DVD case, an object of the past that used to mean the world to him, until they were replaced with digital streaming and holographic entertainment. Inside a blank disk, marker pen scrawled across the front.

“God Save This Queen.” Written unremarkably. Below it a small depiction of a rat. He took a puff of his cigar, the smoke leaving its casing with a snake like hiss. The cloud covering the room in the smell of nicotine and grief. With his good hand he takes the disc out and places it inside his father’s DVD player. For the city of the future, his father’s room was old fashioned. Designed to match his old room at the palace before he had to evacuate. A radio hums quietly next to his bed, his curtains are natural cloth, and no robot servant is allowed near the premises. It’s what he wanted, an untouched memory of what in his mind was a better time. George didn’t dare change it, he imagined that adding any new advancement to the building would wake his father up and he’d receive one last rant. He took another drag as the disc whirled in the machine. The sound similar to that of an aeroplane lifting off.

No menu appeared, just a grainy black with a quiet whimper to accommodate it. In White letters the title appeared once more.

“God Save This Queen.” The whimper slowly got louder and turned into a moan, before becoming a scream. Eyes stared back at George as the picture changed and the camera began to slowly pull back. Three men dressed in plague masks stood over an older woman, gaged and bound, on her knees and crying. George knew the woman, his sister Diane. He knew what he was getting into with this video, but he needed to watch. To understand what happened to her. The video was brutal, uncomfortable and sickening. Listening to his sisters cries for help brought tears to his eyes as he witnessed every evil thing committed to her on that camera. The distorted laughs of the Plague Doctors echoed through his father’s bedroom; he was lucky to have been rendered deaf. As the video finished and his sisters body was dumped in a poorly made grave, beaten, slashed and mutilated. Terrible images played through his head, anger and misery is all he felt as he grabbed the DVD player and smashed it over his leg. Tiny pieces of plastic scattered across the floor. A light scream could be heard behind him. Gertrude, his father’s maid was startled by George’s violence.

“Master Windsor, I didn’t mean to intrude.” Her voice was quiet and fearful, she stuttered over her words as she looked at the shattered device and the sorrow induced anger of her employer.

“Gertrude, I beg my pardon. I am terribly sorry you had to see that.” He slicked his grey hair back in embarrassment, regaining his composure by emptying the tobacco canister of his cigar and refilling it.

“It’s me who should be sorry sir, I should’ve knocked but the message was urgent.” She seemed to be gaining some courage back but still could be seen shaking in her lords presence.

“Well, you have me know Gertie what is so urgent.” He presses a button on his cigar and the mechanism begins to burn the tobacco and smoke once again begins breathing out.

“It’s your daughter, She has arrived at the United Airport and is waiting to be picked up and escorted home.”

“Thank you, Gertrude, tell Daniel to prepare the car, I’ll just quickly get ready.” He felt his lips go dry at the knowing of his daughters presence. He felt anxious and nervous, there was so much he didn’t understand about her. Stress overcame him and he took a long hit of his cigar, the sudden cough introduced a fog like cloud around him and he cursed his anxiety. Grabbing his shoe he returned to his seat, playing with the radio channel as he sat down. He listened intently while tying his brown cargo boots.

“Breaking news, last night NBBC news received a large email containing evidence that successful media distributer and producer Leviathan Media Inc. Have been selling and profiting off of the recent murder movie depicting the death of Princess Diane.”

The North Sector (Caledonia)

16:30

Ashely waited patiently as her elevator slowly climbed the seemingly endless floors of her apartment complex. Today was nothing special, she visited her mother for a couple of hours but prepared to fall into bed and be embraced by the loving arms of her partner.

“Floor 52.” The doors slowly opened with a concerning wobble to them.

“Greetings Miss Kusanagi. Do you need assistance to your apartment.” Waiting for her outside the lift was a medium sized robot. It had a circle base almost like a coffee table and a cylinder body that moved awkwardly on its broken wheels. Lights around the rim of its base lit up red and blue as it talked.

“Hello Francis, I think I’ll be ok today, Not much to carry.” Ash’s voice is loud and boisterous, the typical Scottish personality, though raised by Japanese parents, she seemed to have caught on a lot of traits from the area she grew up in. One of those being a noticeable accent that her parents took a while to get used too. She held up a small white plastic bag, showing Francis that she’ll be fine.

“Very well miss. Enjoy the rest of your night.” The little robot made a chirping noise and shook a little in farewell. Ashely waved it goodbye and continued down the corridor until reaching her apartment. The outside corridor wasn’t very pleasant to look at with various stains and rubbish littering the halls. Ceilings dripped with unknown liquids, and it wasn’t uncommon to spot a squatter or two sleeping amongst the abandoned cardboard. Despite the flaws it was a relatively safe location to live in with pleasant enough neighbours who didn’t cause to much bother.

“Breaking news….” She could hear the news being played through the apartment door. Rachel was awake which excited her. She really needed the hug. Approaching the door panel, a small blue light appeared. A microphone appeared at the bottom indicating the need to speak.

“Ashley Kusanagi, code number 16180.” The symbol changes from microphone to of a lock unlocking.

“Voice recognised. Welcome home.” The door opens with a quick shift to the left and Ashely waltz her way inside.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Lovely I’m home. My mum made us some manju, I requested it for you personally.” She holds the plastic bag out towards Rachel. Sitting with an intense expression plastered across her pale face, Rachel paid no attention to her partner and instead was fixated with the wall. A screen was planted into the surface in front and was playing a breaking news report. Rachel seemed engrossed by it, her face contorting into several versions of disgust.

“What’s going on with you then?” Ashely tentatively walks over to the couch and joins her partner. When she doesn’t respond again, Ash takes her gaze to the TV to see what was so important.

“Leviathan has been seemingly endorsing the Black Death production company responsible for the creation of the snuff film. With hopes that its high notoriety amongst sadists would increase profits for them to be used as bribe money for those in a higher position. Now we will say that these are not confirmed allegations but with the evidence provided it is hard to deny.” The news reporter spoke with a professional cadence, it was such an odd calm she spoke with, a normality that unnerved the girls. Even after it was discovered how brutal it all was no show of emotion was present.

“Fucking Corporations.” Rachel finally piped up with a venomous remark. The hatred spewing out like acid. She turns the TV off and tosses the remote away, it clatters loudly on the floor.

Rachel was a medium sized woman with red, curly hair. Her eyes where a mixture of hazel and green and would often change depending on the lighting. Her skin was of a pale complexion and would often burn in direct sunlight. At this moment in time, she a wore a baggy yellow jumper that went down past her waist. Her red hair tied in a bun. The room was silent for a second, an awkward moment of confusion hit Ashely unsure of what to say. She instead just stares. Rachel notices.

“What is it?” Agitation approached across her face as Ashely’s silence continued, unable to get a word out. Instead going over several possibilities in her head looking for the right way to go about things.

“Ashely, you know I don’t like it when you overthink like this.” The annoyance was obvious, but she seemed to try and calm herself down.

“I’m sorry, I just want to say the right thing to make you feel better, but the situation is messed up and...” Ashely stops her partner from continuing.

“Look, lets remove all the bullshit here. I’m angry, incredibly angry. I have been protesting Leviathan for months now. Ever since the Trudy Howler scandal and the accusations of workplace harassment. Now I discover it’s not just all of that, they now distribute snuff films. Snuff films of famous women being murdered for profit. I am furious right now; it doesn’t help that you are currently working for them.” Her face was getting red. The frustration building inside of her.

“Well technically were just under contract not actually employed by them.” Ashely interjects, annoyed at the inaccurate statement.

“Do you have to do that now.” The face of disappointment is obviously painted on the red heads face.

“I’m sorry love, its automatic it just…” Rachel stops her again.

“I know, I know. I’m going to lie down for a bit to cool off then we can talk about it properly ok. Explain how I’m feeling.” Ashely nods and lifts up the plastic bag.

“Would some manju also help?” Rachel nods and lightly smiles.

“It would” She takes the bag and gives Ashely a kiss on the top of her head then gently begins petting her.

“Speak to you soon.” With a final pat Rachel takes off into the adjoining room and disappears under the duvets. Ashely lingers for a little moment before a ping wakes her back up. On the kitchen table her laptop lights up, and a stream of notifications comes through. Walking up to it she awakens the computer and types in her password.

“Honeybee, I can’t believe you did it 😊.” Another message quickly appears.

“No way you managed; I thought you were just bullshitting XX.” Several similar messages begin appearing in the chat log.

“How did you do it????” Ashely smiles a little before running her hands over the keys and typing.

“You’d be surprised. It was simpler than you’d expect. <3”

The Central Sector (New London)

16:35

The sweet sound of whiskey hitting the bottom of a glass always satisfied Viceroy. He sat overlooking the kingdom of New London basking in his well-deserved wealth. The neon lights of New Britannia struggled to touch him from the god like height he was standing atop. Feelings of grandeur overtook him as he looked over his success. He sat at a mahogany table, sitting on a wolf pelt covered office chair. His floor was blood red and matched the walls that surrounded. Covered in pictures and paintings of him and his achievements. Glass almost empty, he raised it to the city like a king over his subjects and took a final swig. The feeling of wealthy bliss comforted him.

A long alarm blared through his ears as his eyes blinked into a glowing yellow. He tapped the neural implant along the left side of his forehead and an image of sound waves appeared on the right side corner.

“Sir, its an emergency you really need to see this.” The voice was somewhat distorted the shouting into whatever microphone was causing it to cut out.

“Calm down Paul, tell it to me slowly and quietly.” He heard the voice on the other side slightly gulp before continuing.

“It’s the news, someone hacked into our server and uncovered information about our partnership with Black Death.” Dropping his whisky glass on the floor and allowing it to shatter, Viceroy stood up shocked and confused. He pressed the implant again; a menu of selective apps appears across his face. He scrolls down with his eyes until he comes across the news. He blinks to press play.

“With this shocking news coming forward one has to wonder, how will Leviathan CEO Viceroy McMullin respond to such allegations. With so many new questions being asked one must suspect. Is this the end for Leviathan.” Viceroy angerly shuts off both his communicator and personal broadcast leaving himself alone once again in his office. He slams the table with a vicious thud.

“Angela. Get the fuck in here now.” He screams at the door, his secretary sprints forward not looking to keep her boss waiting. She wore a casual business suit, glasses and carried a digital see through electronic tablet under her arm.

“Yes, sir what is it you need?”

“What do I need? You fucking kidding me what do you think. We’ve just been hit by a shitstorm that plans to eat me up and sink this company. What do I need? What I need is for you to plan a press conference as soon as humanly possible so I can fix this.”

He paced around his office with a fury that terrified the young woman. She left almost immediately. Through the doorway he could hear the sudden panic of the workers scrambling to do their best to save face and avoid persecution. Some even asked questions, confused to what this was all about. After trying to regain his composure Viceroy sat back down at his desk and summons his office computer. It appears in holographic form on his desk, he types into the ghostly keys. Reading every news sight, he discovered that the culprit was suspected to be a hacker. It didn’t make sense to him, they had some of the best cyber security, the firewall was in the process of being built but, the safety measures beforehand should’ve halted any attempted attack. He tried to put the pieces together and discover this sudden possibility, until he realised. It had to be one of the digital construction workers. Easy access to the server was guaranteed and with how new the job was, regulations were still being put in place to make the job most efficient. He linked with his interface and called security.

“Leviathan security.” The softspoken nature was contrasted with the heavy polish accent.

“Mikolaj, hey its Viceroy here, I have a request.” The call was silent but the heavy breathing on the other end indicated he was still listening.

“The construction workers we have working on the firewall. I want you to question them one by one. There is a hacker amongst them, I need your company to find out who.” A grunt of acknowledgement startles the CEO. The line goes dead, and Viceroy is left unbothered. He looks back out into the city as the quiet noise of panicked workers overwhelms his once peaceful meditation. A smile crosses his face, he had a plan to counter act the chaos. It excited him, he did not wish to go down. The final touches of his masterpiece were still being finalized. It was only a matter of time before it was complete. Goosebumps formed a top him as he thought about the potential he had. Leviathan was just the beginning. A steppingstone compared to who his investors were. His creation intrigued them, and they wanted it badly. He just needed some more time; the subjects would be collected soon. As he ascended higher looking over the city. He knew that with this success not even the floods of Apocalypse could stop him reaching his intended purpose.