Read The Radical (Unity Vol.1) Online
Authors: S.M. Lynch
The Radical (Unity Vol.1)
THE RADICAL
UNITY Vol.1
By
S.M. Lynch
Copyright © S
.M. Lynch, 2014
Cover Design by S
.M. Lynch
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. You must not circulate this book without the authority to do so.
All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
DEDICATION
For my family
This is a future world where everything has changed. To speed your re
ading experience, here is a list of future staples that you will come across in the novels…
nGen
: New generation handset created in the late 2010s
xGen
: Unsurpassable, multi-functional hand-held device
Emissary:
Man or woman employed by Officium to keep the peace
U-Card
: Identity card that also works as payment method and passport
ED
: Earth dollars, a global currency
24/7
: Automated store providing goods
Mercy Inn
: Convenient hotel
Sanctuary
: Indoor, automated refreshment dispensary
UNITY
: A mysterious underground movement
Love does not delight in evil
but rejoices with the truth.
1 Corinthians 13, v6
In 2063 f
our people set out to depose the conglomeration of Officium ‒ I was one of them. We each had different skills and capabilities, no personality the same, yet we all fought for the same cause. We believed in the movement and we never doubted our resolve to rid the world of that dictatorial menace. Alongside our quartet, many others fought. Some loyal, some not. I would like to be able to tell you that all of us survived, but we didn’t. Some of us perished, some of us were injured, some of us left and never came back.
My name is Seraph Maddon and
it falls on me to open this epic tale of lies, deceit, mayhem and murder. I open it because it began, essentially, with my personal battle against those who sought to teach us that freedom of thought and speech were wrong, risky… even dangerous. I always knew, in my heart, the world had changed for the worse.
2023 saw to that: a viral outbreak that was never explained and an antidote never produced ‒ developed a culture of fear and confusion that allowed Officium to take power.
While you get acquainted with the woman I was ‒ I suppose the woman I always will be to some extent ‒ you will discover I was a dislikeable figure, a product of that world. I knew I was lucky to survive each day but how I was still living, I didn’t know. But I was about to find out.
What follows is a trea
cherous journey through a murky abyss. If only I had a time machine, I would send these words back as a warning to people to be aware – you never know what the future might hold. In our time, if you weren’t immoral, you might have seemed weak. So it was better to be like them, join their ways, and never speak out.
If you find yourself
demanding answers throughout this journey, don’t expect to get them without a fight. Let me introduce myself…
I am
The Radical
.
My eyelids felt heavy
, scratching my eyeballs with every blink, and even dull light made my headache worse. My nostrils were itchy and my throat was parched; I had been out on the street all day long, breathing in the toxic air. Above me a streetlight struggled as the blackout approached, the neon-orange bulbs fizzing and blinking against the blurred night sky. Acrid aromas from a nearby soup vendor lingered ‒ putrid offerings for dozens of exhausted white collar workers shuffling by on the way home to their cold, unwelcoming dwellings. I got accustomed to those smells, and even though they were vile, they were familiar. It was rare I had the time to stop and think and I preferred never to contemplate my surroundings.
I stood on a corner
behind the decaying remains of Radio City Music Hall, an original symbol of art deco that was used as a makeshift hospital during 2023. I was desperate not to catch attention and dressed in black to appear inconspicuous. Still, everyone knew my face, my name, and I couldn’t bear to cut the striking mane of red hair that reached my waist.
I slid
my device from my pocket to check for messages but found none.
C’mon, c’mon
. I just hoped my contact was running late and hadn’t ridden a pale horse off that godforsaken island. Most people in his line of work had a short lifespan.
A gaggle of office workers rushed by preferring safety in numbers, and I tur
ned my face away, leaning back into the shadows. I usually moved about the streets quickly and knew which corners I could lose a tail on.
They
watched my every move.
It was laboring toward evening
and the dark skies reflected my irritable mood. I felt grubby and haggard. No matter how many showers I took, it was never enough. Pollution always lingered in my hair, on my skin, in my lungs and on my clothes.
I braved a
nother glance sideways down the alley and saw silent, dejected husks with their heads lowered and their shoulders hunched, creeping to their destinations anxiously after slaving away in cramped conditions all day long. I avoided staring and bowed my head again.
When a pair of shiny black Oxfords
appeared in front of me, I had to take a breath. I took control of my adrenalin, reassuring myself it wasn’t an enemy. It was definitely Ulrich. He was always a dead giveaway, with feet smaller than my own.
I
looked up and heard my own voice, which was raspy in the uncompromising air, ‘You’re late.’
He was an inch taller than me
at most, dressed in a black overcoat, a suit beneath. He had a couple of years on me, sprinkled brown hair, a handsome face and a bookish look that seemed to suit him more with each passing year.
‘You’re lucky I’m here at all,
’ he said, a soupçon of Swiss still detectable in his accent.
I pulled Ulrich
down the alley to get out of sight, gesturing for him to shelter with me in an old side entrance of the music hall. Another tropical storm was on the way but the smog overhead always made it difficult to separate rain clouds from pollution.
‘W
hy you got me here, huh? You know how dangerous this is,’ I paused, wafting my index finger in front of his eyes, ‘doin’ this on the fuckin’ street is a bad idea.’
He grimaced
but he wasn’t the one on the streets everyday. I was. He spent his days in relative safety, hovering over a microscope, earning a crust that would enable his retirement in only a few years’ time.
‘We’re done here
, Seraph. I just came to say goodbye. My employers know something. They are suspicious. I have had one too many memos about the clause in my contract where I agreed not to discuss my work with outsiders.’
My eyes widened and I snarled,
‘Coward’s way out? Should have known you’d back down one day.’
I stared him out, my expression stony, and raised myself t
o my full height. I searched his eyes for signs that might explain his sudden mutiny and noticed something.
Ulrich always had a
glint in his eye for me. For some reason, that was gone. I think I knew why, already. It was usually the reason people sought escape from the regime we were held imprisoned by.
‘Why are we bothering? No-one
is ever going to change a thing. They’ll be dead before that happens,’ he argued.
My
impatience was quickening and I had to hold my fist steady by my side ‒ it threatened to react to what he was saying. I refused to go home that day with nothing, not a scrap of something to work with. I sensed he possessed information that might make another pointless day seem less shitty.
‘So
we’ll be six feet under or worse, at least we’ll die trying,’ I countered.
His defiance was palpable.
‘Listen, I’ve met someone, so I can’t keep doing this. I’ve got someone to care about now.’
I recoiled
and recognized why he had on that get-up. He must have been heading off for a date. That explained the missing glint.
‘I thought roman
ce was dead,’ I mocked.
‘It’s not like that. It’s real.’
‘Yeah, right. It’ll never last, once she finds out who owns your ass.’
He
took hold of my elbow, shaking my body. If he was trying to encourage me to see sense, he was going to be a long time. His retort was angry, ‘Look, she already knows so shut the hell up. Just because you’re so damned heartless doesn’t mean everyone else is.’
I sniffed in disdain and
appeared nonchalant, but deep down I knew he was right. I had just spent another miserable Christmas alone and being forced to spend time with my thoughts only made me feel more weighed down with hopelessness and despair at never being able to get any real answers. Anyhow I was tired of his stalling.
I checked the street and
moved toward Ulrich, taking hold of his coat collars. My muscles roiled with anger as I shoved him back and held him against the brick wall. His eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of his head; he was shocked by my swift attack and struggled to breathe.
‘Dammit
, don’t test me Ulrich, there’s no time for this. Just tell me what you got.’
He tried to nod but I maintained my grip until I
felt certain he had succumbed. He fell on the step at the bottom of the side door, catching his breath. I waited impatiently, tapping my feet, arms crossed. I damn well wanted answers and I would resort to using the dirt I had on him if I had to – such as the alias he used for a bank account he kept for his escape plan. Officium would be very interested in knowing one of their employees could run off on them, carrying their secretive practices out of the city to who knows where.
He looked up
with exasperation and gasped, ‘Head virologist Suranna Eames, she’s smoke.’
He was near to cracking too, I could tell. He was primed for the taking. The pressure of something was weighing him down. I kn
elt so I was at his level and demanded, ‘When?’
‘Two months ago. Laboratory explosion. They’ll p
robably kill me for telling you,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘Tell me everything and
I promise you’ll never have to see me again.’
He
remained silent, but just as I was about to recommence my attack, he revealed, ‘Seraph, you really can be a complete bitch you know?’
‘Fuck you. I
came here straight from the morgue. I go there every single day to see if the newest victims of factory work bear any evidence of maltreatment. I’m a journalist who’s been forced to work like this. Not the other way round. We’re all victims of this world. I’ll take my chances doin’ what little I can to undermine them.’
He hung his head in his hands. ‘I can’t do this Seraph. I’m not built like you are.’
‘I need whatever you got. Just tell me everything before I demonstrate what I’m really capable of,’ I spat out.
He held a hand up in submission.
‘Okay, look, some colleagues of mine in her department said she started turning up at work withdrawn and disheveled. Something was clearly troubling her, and then she was dead. Ryken Hardy got fired just after taking over her job as head researcher.’
‘Her ex? Why
did they get rid of him?’
‘Something about poor
results in their department.’
I threw my
head back in disbelief. ‘What fuckin’ results? What is the point of virologists when they have the whole world on lockdown! There hasn’t been an outbreak in four damn decades.’
‘Shit, I don’t know and I don’t want to know
. There must be more to it, but I can’t tell you any more than that.’
I
contemplated this revelation, eyeing him to gauge whether he was holding something back.
‘Where’s Hardy now?’
‘I wish I knew, he’s here and there, but nobody can ever seem to get hold of him.’
‘Are you sure there’
s nothing else you might have overlooked?’
He looked shifty, so I
reiterated, ‘Just tell me.’
‘They’re watch
ing you. They have been for years. And yet, they don’t ever seem to get you…?’
‘
Yeah… well… I might have a sympathetic supporter feeding me dirt on all the major players of this city… some of the choicest bits are in an encrypted file hovering in cyberspace. If anything happens to me it will be released within 24 hours of me failing to upload my message service.’
‘They won’t stop
, you know that. Your impunity won’t last forever.’
‘They can’t touch me because my protection is unbreakable, trust me. I had my underground hacker friend
, the
Rascal
, shore up its impenetrability. He’s smarter than the whole of Officium put together. He knows all their tricks, but even he’s been unable to get any data proving who really killed my parents.’
‘Maybe you ought to just admit defeat. You know, sometimes when I sit scanning the obituaries, I often half expect to see your name amongst them.’
I sniffed and shrugged his apt suggestion off. I’d come close to death a few times but I would never admit it, not to anyone.
‘All I want is the truth
about my family. I’ll keep chiselin’ away until I get the information I need, whether they threaten to kill me or not.’
He looked saddened by my
remarks and that made me angrier than anything else I had been forced to face that day.
‘Ulrich,
fuck it, don’t look at me with those pity eyes. I know what I am.’
‘No, you’re better
. I remember the person you used to be before your parents were killed. This debt you’re trying to settle… it is only going to cost you, nobody else. I just hope you realize that before they catch up with you.’
He pushed to his feet
and got ready to leave, offering me a hand to shake. I took it begrudgingly and he offered one last piece of advice.
‘If you can get Hardy to talk, you might finally
be able to unpick the biggest thread of them all. But he’s a pretty tough one to crack. He’s built like a marine and perhaps smarter and more complex than anyone else I’ve ever known. He’s the best of us, and yet, for him to have been fired… something monumental must have gone down.’
I managed a limp smile
. ‘Sorry about before. I guess… good luck?’
He moved away
and offered, ‘Goodbye Seraph. I really hope you find what you’re looking for.’