Undefined - The Zephyr Book 1 ? (completed)(#Wattys2016)

Chapter 16 - Cello

16 - Cello
Outside the window there's a jungle of grey concrete and flashing neon lights. I will never get used to living in a big city where the sky is constantly being cut apart by towers. People here live amongst so many other people, they have to dress and groom themselves bizarrely just to express some fleeting notion of individuality. Inside this city, Heign Valley is a nightmare on a different scale.

I combed through the city's neighbourhoods today, and while everything seemed dreadful in my eyes, there were places even I found charming. In Heign Valley there's no room for charm. This is the place where hope dies. If there are other places like the Zephyr where energy pools, this place would be the pool of human darkness. Only despair, pain, and desperation can be found here, only broken dreams, broken homes and broken hearts. The people here have sunken cheeks and missing teeth, they're rotting in their flesh, loitering on street corners without any particular purpose, like the living dead. Most of the stores are out of business, and those that still operate have their windows and doors protected by laser bars.

The Doorstep Lodge is no exception. I squint down through the green laser gird over the window and look at about a dozen skeletal people on the street. "What happened to them?" I ask Syianne, she seems to be knowledgeable in all things city-related – like the rail cars.

"Some of them are substance-users, but most of them are Blankheads." She joins me at the window to see where my gaze is directed.

"Is that what they're called?" How did they become like this?"

"They're people that had had their minds obliterated by the Council," she answers.

"The Council does that?" I can't withhold my shock. I remember when I was a boy riding the train into Maral for the first time, I was utterly horrified to learn that if someone misbehaves on the train, they can be thrown off even while it's moving.

"That's how they deal with severe crimes in this region," she says simply, as if this is the most natural thing in the world. "Don't you have criminals out west?"

"Yes, and they're put in prison."

"Obliterating people's minds is considered more efficient and humane. Technically they're housed, but they're allowed to wander off. The police round them up every couple of days and make sure they get fed, but this way they're as harmless as stray cats and after five years when they become conscious again, they remember language, some of them even remember basic skills like cooking and sewing, but it's like they're new people. They get new names and there are programs that help them begin new lives. It's better for society rather than to have people who are criminals forever."

"It's like a death sentence," I muse.

"Only without taking away life."

"Why are all the stores here so fortified then?"

"Blankheads tend to wander in wherever they see an opening and take things they find. No one wants them around," she explains. She casually touches my arm. "Are you hungry?"

"Famished." I also have a throbbing headache and my eyes feel sore and swollen. I can't remember when I last cried so much, but after an awkward half-hour we moved on from that embarrassing incident. I guess we both agreed to pretend it never happened. I nod in the direction of the door, there's a blare of music coming from downstairs, I could feel the bass through the floor.

"My treat."

*

Downstairs it's dark, crowded and noisy; the air is filled with smoke and the smell of booze. I've only seen places like this in movies. Subconsciously I grab hold of Syianne's hand, not to protect her, more to protect myself. The people here seem large and threatening. Most of them are men and resemble the loathsome train stewards. I don't know what I'd do if I get separated from her. I can't have anyone challenge me here, not when Risa is so ready to have another taste of human flesh.