The Writers' Circle

Part 1: Disaffection

"Junky" I said to myself in the mirror, I leaned closer supporting myself on the wash-thin ceramic basin, pulling the lid down from my eye "Junky" I repeated, I spat down the drain and watched as the sand-plug shifted and absorbed the fluid, gurgling with predictable delight, the flickering filament that sent electric waves of passing grime onto the bathroom, droned with the unreliable mechanism that keeps this whole place alive. 

I jumped instinctively to peer outside knowing that the time was almost upon me, at the 'drones' and the endless diorama of grey mass swarming toward the A-complex in a blaze of snow, and through the whipping winds of cold, I could see the red long coat of Rensoir, marching in procession, just another faceless victim.

A Tannoy bleared with grinding metal, and the automated message I've heard everyday since birth "All workers report to A-Complex for duties and services to the Patriarch" followed by the Imperial Music of Rene S. FritzGaarf, triumphant with overly enthusiastic overtures. I grabbed my coat, upturned the collar and braced the cold, the snow now sludge-thin with stomping feet laden with heavy work boots, I walked with resistance down the dimly lit boulevard, sleepy with the orange hue of a rising sun. "Do you see Le Boeuf Sur le toit, last night?" it was Gen San, a mousy looking operator, anaemic with years of laborious work "Our Patriach was kind enough to air the entire play" he smiled and shielded the sun from his eyes, "No", I replied burying my hands deeps into my pockets, raising my shoulders like a crow in a storm "That's Cocteau's play isn't it? "The Nothing Doing Bar"? I seems that sick bastard has a sense of irony" I spat, "You know if the overseer heard you..." he laughed nervously, looking around like a ferret, "Choke on it" I replied cutting him short, and ran to catch Rensoir.

"Rensoir!" I ran pushing the throng, stumbling, "Rensoir!" he heard me and stopped, smiled with recognition and then lowered his head "What's the news?" I said somewhat out of breath, "Keep it down!" he said violently grabbing my arm, we walked in silence for another 5 minutes towards the machine that is known as the A-Complex. "We're merging with the [] Faction, together we can pool our ideas, we now have over 2 thousand men, there's a meeting tonight at the docks, midnight" he pushed his glasses back and look at me reflectively "You're invited of course, we're now known as the Alliance Front" he raised his head looking proud and smiled.   

All these names but no action, Rensoir! We're junkies!", "I know!" he hissed, instinctively touching his arm "The dawn of a new age is coming, but we must be patient, silence now" he spoke softly, we were approaching the adit, steel ropes twanged and strained on heavy set anchors, which kept grey zeppelins abase as they swayed unmanned in the cool breeze, the Patriarchs flag of a single monocot beckoned resolutely at the entrance. 
"Name?" bleared the guard, "Artisan Shamus Corelli. Contact 00-31B, Silicon Quarter, absolved criminal- code 121, health status- peridot" I replied like a machine, and swiped my arm under the contact laser, moving into heard Rensoir behind me, "Artisan Markus Rensoir, Silicon Quarter....", I felt my stomach turn, hearing our great leader, bleating like a sheep, we were all criminals under code 121, we absolve our crime by working, manufacturing flywheels, Layden Lamps, Fulcrum wheels, Bessemer furnaces, engines, oakum ropes, and so on, for the construction of yet more complexes, an endless vicious circle, self sustaining and indefinitely evil.

I stood alone the within the quandary beyond the entrance, the grey scale sky above was hit by a thick layer of cigarette smoke, and endless talk among colleagues, disaffected with life, masking their jaded ennui with idle talk, I walked to the centre and inhaled the cigarette B-5, one pink among yellows, almost 3 percent nicotine, and patiently waited for Rensoir, "Are you ready?" he said as he matched to met me in centre, "as always" I replied, we shook hands and parted ways, not without a slight nod of acknowledgement, I couldn't help but feel a warm sense of belonging, as I watched our great leader powerfully striding with the air of resistance.
I joined the line for the S-Room, a repository in the Eastern Wing, military 'heavies' guarded the  entrance with batons and stern looking conviction. I butted out my cigarette, with a casual gait. "Psst, Shamus" I turned slowly to see a tired looking old man by the name of  Indigo Burns "How about helping with my rota this week?" he coughed spluttering pale blotted spit onto my coat, "I could use the help, I can't, I can't feel my hands" he displayed his shaking, aged fingers knotted with countless years of labour, "I thought you were an ex-legionnaire you pathetic bastard" I spat, I turned my collar up further still, and avoided any further eye contact, "Shamus?" he choked back a sob,  "Proceed to the S-Room Refectory, for daily ground meal, then to room S-5 for duty for material cleansing and manufacturing, in the name of service to the Patriarch" the guard bellowed and blew a pea-whistle, as we shuffled in uniform toward the double-bolted doors, I could hear the old man sobbing being me, he knew as well as I, his days were numbered

                             Part II: The Mess Hall

Entering the repository, the foul effervescence stench of rotten meat and oatmeal filled the hall, I grabbed a tray as was my custom every morning and proceeded along the line to grey sludge at the end of the queue, "Beautiful day for it" I smiled at the distributor dressed in a pale green tunic, heavily matted with odorous grime, he responded with a distant nod, and slammed a ladle of grey sludge onto the tray, and then onto the cleric, where I exposed my raw bruised arm for the injection of monoacids, the needle slid into like an old friend, and I felt my body surge with energy, and my stomach rumble with painful hunger. It was only after the administration, and only then, I was able to eat, I hurriedly took my place among co-workers and colleagues, who like myself were scrambling for any available seat, pushing with elbows and crying pathetically with low pitched grunts, finding a place among the 'elders', I choked the grey matter down my throat with bare hands, after only two mouthfuls I looked sorrowfully at the empty plate. 

I noticed sitting opposite was old Indigo Burns, who seemed to be drifting into unconsciousness, hovering into a spell just inches from his untouched victuals, I pushed his head back violently and heard it snap against the wooden rail that ran abeam across the entire hall, as I choked his food down, a painful surge of white light flared up behind the eyes, I felt my stomach flip inside out, I regurgitated the contents in a jet of painful grey across the refectory table, the burning heat behind my eyes lingered, and like hot lava worked its way behind my nasal passage. "The acids have already worn off you fool!", growled an old man, stooping down to help Indigo, and as they wore off further still, I felt the shame hit me, and replace that once dominating pain of merciless hunger. 
"Are you going to help him?" the old man asked with tears in his eyes, Indigo now unconscious, lay in a heap on the floor, I felt heavy hearted and complete empathy, but only shrugged my shoulders and looked unmoved, with a look of disgust the old man screamed, "Guard!" and moving closer across the table "You're in for it now, Correlli, you son of a bitch!", I met him half way and grabbed his lapels,  whispering in his ear "If you're not for the revolution, you're against it, I'll see you pay for this old man" I pushed him back into his seat. "Revolution?" he spat, standing up energetically, outstretching his arms as if looking for approval, he pointed accusingly "Correlli, you're as bad as they are!"

There was an  uproar of assent and murmurings of approvals that ran like a wave across the entire mess hall, and as the guards approached and led me forcefully by the throat, there was a great uproar of clapping and stomping of feet. "Its seems you're quickly losing friends Corelli" one of the guards sniggered, and threw me to the floor. "What should we do with him?" the other guard asked the crowd, who was heavy built man, with a great jutting jaw, "Satyrs!" came an unrecognisable cry from the back, "No!" I bellowed, and bolted upright, "The Satyriasists?" replied the guard to the crowd, in a pantomime fashion, pushing me back down with his boot, this worked the crowd into a frenzy of excitement, "You bastards!" I screamed with rage, from where I lay I could only see stomping feet, and looking up the grey clay like matter clinging to the teeth of hideously deformed old men, all leering, and chanting in unison "Satyrs!" and "flog him!", it was a lynch mob of biblical proportions. I would be exposed, the revolution, my whole association, I jumped to my feet and tried to bolt towards to the exit, when I was violently whipped around, "The people have spoken" said the larger of the guards, and with a brutal blow from the baton, I was unconscious.

"What is law?" 

I recognised the voice before I came around completely, it was Han Garek billeted recently from the sandbanks of Gothen, "is it not order?" a little louder, I raised my head and felt a dull pain run down my spine, "and do we not have complete order?" he leaned back in his finely upholstered chair and smiled, "then we have law, do we not? So why do you revolt?" he said standing and walking towards me, "law is not freedom, or necessarily just, I revolt not against law, but dependence, I fight for the right to live", "and do you not live?" he said pushing my head with his index finger, "I feel that I am not living at all, that I am only part of a corrupt system, always uncomfortably on the edge of death", at this he smiled and rolled up his sleeves, there was no mark of a junky dependant on monoacids, the tell tale bruised arm and exposed veins, "but, you people are all the same to me" he sighed, "who do you feel you are?" he said, sitting again "the workers hate you, that scene in refectory proves that you're nothing more than a pathetic animal, as soon as the satyrs are prepared, your associates in the the movement will be exposed". I retched, dry heaving on an empty stomach, "be grateful, we could snuff your life out like a candle" he ran his finger across his desk and looked sagacious in deep thought, "though, we have known about you for some time, you are sloppy in your work, and I can only take this as a deliberate attempt at sabotage, did you think a high percentage of tin alloy would melt in the engines?" It was true, I had deliberately smelted more tin into iron bars, hoping it would melt in the heat or simply wear thin,  "hardly ingenious, we have entire complexes, just like this one, dedicated to screening materials" he laughed, "your supposed movement is nothing more, than a clubhouse of dreamers" a slim gauntly looking guard entered announced  the Satyrs were now prepared, "abidance, is all we ask" said the overseer as he waved his giant hand towards the door, but I was rooted to the chair in fear, I had only ever heard rumours of the Satyrs, rare creatures with the ability to see into your soul and expose everything. "Move it!" raged the guard kicking my chair, I stood slowly and wiped a thick layer of sweat of my brow, "Overseer Garek" I pleaded, he only shook his head, and said "I pray your soul is pure Shamus"

I was lead out into the corridor, and past the work floor, of pounding hammers, and the searing lava heat of furnaces, the rattling of iron chains and the dull drone of machines, colleagues, the 'traitors' and comrades, all silent in their work, and not one to save me, or offer a word of comfort. The guard pushed and jabbed me in the back, there was excitement in his eyes, I figured this could be the first time he himself, will have seen the Satyrs, as we approached a door labelled "RESTRICTED", without saying a word, he pulled a large sackcloth out his back pocket and forced it over my head, the inside was layered with tar, I muffled a short cry, this was met by another violent jab to the ribs. "They've killed men you know" he said, as we passed several more heavily bolted 'restricted' areas, "Bit, their heads clean off, they did" he laughed as he could visibly see  me shaking with fear, "Though, you'll be alright, they have removed their teeth now, figured they are much more useful as prophetic beings, than killers, we have machines for that after all, you see?", "I don't fear death" I said, truthfully, but this was muffled and the guard didn't hear. I began to notice as we walked, what was once a puddle, was soon rising up to my knees, I had come to the conclusion that we were walking down an inclination towards a flooded room, "We're here" the guard said, not even bothering to mask the excitement in his voice. I heard the hydraulics of a giant door unbolt, and the heavy sound of grinding metal as I was led in, the door was slammed shut and bolted, and the sackcloth was removed. 

The room was indeed half flooded, and before me stood a giant water tank, rusted with age, and the pungent smell of dead fish and decay filled the monstrous arena, an inquisitor dressed all in black with a chiselled face and unappealing hook nose, waded his way towards me with a smile. I never imagined a room like this could exist within the Complex. "Correlli, I've been expecting you" he held out his hand, and I pushed in away in disgust, "let's get this over with" I said, in mock bravado, the guard laughed in delight, "very well" said the inquisitor, and turning towards the tank, shouted with all his might "Kar-Lak!", there was a great splashing of water and a high pitched scream, a pale naked figure about twice the size of a man shot straight up and out of the tank, and in a display of acrobatic mastery, somersaulted, landed and then galloped towards us at great speed, drenching us in water, I fell backwards in shock and felt the dirty, sullied water submerge me, I sat upright, choking and spluttering to exit the foul tasting water I had swallowed, looking up I saw creature had its grip on the guard, it was a strange blend between a human and a narwhal, it's skin was as white as talc, with patches of grey, and with bulbous black eyes, that seem to flutter, like running ink in a spot light. 
"This one!" it rasped, turning to the inquisitor, "no, no, no, him!" screamed the guard panicking, picking me up and throwing me face first towards the creature, I stumbled on all fours trying to remain above water, when I felt its rubber-foam like grip around my neck, lifting me upwards, I stood upright, shaking with fear and cold,  it pressed itself against me lasciviously and purred like a cat, it ran it's giant purple swollen tongue across my face, "read him!" the Satyr's head snapped to look at the inquisitor and tilted questioningly "don't play with him, you fool!", it drew me closer to and peered into my eyes, so close in fact all I could see was my own reflection, in its deep black oceans of ink "what do you read about any movements, what is this man's future in the movement, who is he working with?" the Satyr shuddered and emitted a low-sucking sound, staring deeper still, "No" it rasped, "Death" it squealed in delight, "How soon, can you read anything else?", asked the inquisitor "very soon, and only death, this man's soul has no future" it rasped sibilantly, "it seems like you're a marked man Correlli" said the inquisitor, "but you should be grateful, your friends in the movement are safe... for now, acting as the adjudicator on behalf of the overseer, I relinquish you from your duties, we want no dead men here, we will rather save the acids for workers" he sighed, the creature stepped closer still, and like a doll pulled me violently into its chest, which I met with a loud wet slap, I felt its gums clamp around my forehand in a terrible vice like grip, "Ah!" I screamed pitifully, it began sucking in horrendous gulps of air, it felt as if my brain was being pulled through my eyes, I could hear the guard doubling over in laughter, and the Inquisitor beating the creature violently "Kar-Lak!", finally it let up, and dropped me to the ground like a piece of discarded meat, it returned to slowly to its tank, but not without two or three glances back in my direction. "I'm sorry Correlli, it's the smell of death, it's irresistible to them"

I was led out much the same way I was led in, I knew now I had been banished from the Complex I would die none the less, that I would eventually starve, 

                              Part III: The Docks