SMALL AGAINST THE SEA — an extract

Chapter 1

My commendation only came about through customer demand.

      She really didn't have to go to that trouble. Inconceivable. Her hands shook when she held them out and not because of the sweeping sickness. I think it might have been due to her age. As far as I know, the sickness doesn't cause the afflicted to shake. But she shook. Much more pronounced in the hands than elsewhere. I couldn't help but feel like she was uncomfortable, all hunched over. Although, the discomfort was a total guess. Bodies have a way of making me feel stupid. I always have to guess at definitions. What does it mean when someone turns away from me, or why a person's eyebrow's scurry to the top of their face, as if they were trying to join the hair on their head? I'd never had much success with my guesses but that didn't stop me trying. Unfortunately, it didn't stop me feeling stupid either. But this woman was the first, and only, to accept me into her home.

      I didn't want to watch her struggle with her package. So I offered to carry it to wherever she wanted and she invited me into her home. I know that's against restrictions and I wrestled with the invitation for a moment but no part of me wanted to refuse. Sickness be damned. I've never been anywhere like it before or since. All manner of old fashioned things and relics I didn't recognise. None of it meant anything to me, they were just strange shapes. Big long wooden things and smaller square-ish metal things. She had all sorts of different objects, decorations perhaps? Many more than I have. I didn't know what any of them were and I didn't have the chance to ask. She spoke quickly and I guess I was just sort of swept away by that kindness. She told me that she really appreciated my effort and I appreciated her contact. I've often hoped for a delivery to her house again. There was something soft about her and in spite of the risk, a feeling of safety. Her small shuddering frame made her seem frail but did nothing to dull the sense of security I got from her. I wanted to stay there. It felt like being near a bright light, not blinding but warm. And of course, memory has built great walls of positivity around that moment. Happy bricks.

      Unfortunately, the company didn't agree with my approach. A few days after I received the award a new sign appeared by the tiny time-keeper. It tapped the sign with its shiny skinny finger every day as I arrived and again on my way out. It read, Drivers, We Deliver Parcels and Results. Not Conversation.

      The streets are always so empty. I used to come across maybe half a dozen people a day, though lately I've been questioning myself and hoping that it isn't just a childhood memory favourably expanded by nostalgia. Now I'm lucky to see one a fortnight. The quality of the streets themselves is declining, rapidly. I often see maintenance-units out on duty — small square bodies clumsily patrolling, removing piles of debris and leaving trails of disinfectant. But the buildings are crumbling at such a rate that the maintenance-units barely make a difference to the wreckage that settles under blackened windows. Some buildings hardly look like they can stand anymore. But they do. I just assume that they won't fall because they never have before.

      This route usually only takes me around fifteen minutes. Yet, even in that time I see substantial decay and damage. I wonder if anyone else has noticed. Or even if they'd bother to notice. I turned a corner and arrived at a street of terraced houses, not far from my own home. I figured I'd check the messages on my implant. Even though I'd recently promised myself that I would try and use it less. Especially as it's not much use anymore. The small pale blue box hovered over my hand, my head buzzed and a message scrolled over the box: INBOX EMPTY NO NEW MESSAGES OR CALLS. As usual. I opened up the story stream and a single headline ran in a river of letters over my hand. You can't feel it but they trickle over the skin, down my wrist and they disappear on my forearm. MAN INJURED IN CITY CENTRE, looked intriguing. At one time I would have had several stories to choose from but no news is good news as the old saying goes. I selected the headline and waited for the story to come into focus on my hand. Then, I bumped into someone.

      The words fell, sliding off my hand and disappearing before they hit the floor. The implant in my eye flickered off. My hand and forearm glanced off the person I'd bumped into. It was a woman. A peculiar feeling shot through my hand and up to my elbow. Like a mild electric shock. A tingle. Contact.

      'Ow! That hurt.' The woman's face was all screwed up. Was this how she always looked? I had no way of knowing, I'd never seen her before. Did she know that she looked like this? I wanted to ask her.

      'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. It was an accident,' I said and the woman shuffled back a few steps.

      'No. You intended to do that,' the woman said as she dusted herself off.

      I watched her wiping her torso, mainly her stomach. The area I must have touched. I wish I'd noticed. People always seem more cautious after the incident. Just when something isn't likely to happen, they seem to get more careful. It doesn't make any sense.

      'I really didn't, honestly.'

      'And no need to swear.'

      'But I didn't swear.'

      The woman stared at me. I tried to look past her for a way out of the situation but she kept stepping back into my line of sight.

      'Let's put it to a vote,' the woman said.

      'Please. There's no need for that. I'll just be on my way and we can both go home.'

      The woman faced both rows of houses in turn as she spoke. Making sure to quickly glance back at me as she was addressing both rows of homes.

      'This woman denies having bumped into me intentionally. I say, she did it purposefully and with malice and of course in breach of regulations. Acting as though the whole street belonged to her. I choose to put it to a vote so as not to involve a higher authority. All those who are there and who saw, please honour the voting system and the Civil Settlement Regulation Order by voting honestly. Thank you.'

      'Why don't we just try and go our separate ways. We don't have to do things this way, surely there's a choice? Another way?' I was getting desperate, 'I just want to go home, I'm sure that you just want to get home too? You probably weren't looking where you were going either.'

      'See,' the woman pointed at me while facing the rows of houses, 'she is trying to escape.'

'I'm really not.'

      She turned away so she had her back to me and continued.

      'All those who agree that she violated distance regulations and bumped into me on purpose, please answer yes. Those who believe it was an accident and she had no intent to harm please vote no. OK? Her punishment will be that she can no longer walk this way, understood? Vote now.'

      The silent houses loomed over us, it even felt like they grew a little taller. The windows were unblinking eyes. A bright white screen flashed up over the front of each house as they prepared to declare. Two unchecked boxes — yes and no — adorned the street. An alert buzzed into my head so I quickly opened my implant — apparently my heart rate was far too high. The results tallied up on the display underneath the checkboxes of each house. Only two houses declared, the rest were blank, either empty or not watching — either way, it was resounding yes.

      'I suggest that you leave at once and remember, you can't come back this way. Ever.'

      She made a strange shape with her mouth, a sort of semi-circle thing. I'd seen it before but it is a rare sight. I gave her plenty of room as I left the street. Once I'd crossed the road, I thought I'd look back, just to make a mental note of the boundary I could no longer cross. Even though my implant would be updated with a nice redacted section of the city map to add to the collection of redacted areas. I turned to look back down at the houses and watched the woman enter one of them. It only takes a moment for things to go from silent and harmless to something else.

      My front door flickered and dissipated. It doesn't work quite as well as it used to. Nothing does. I put my fob into my hat and tossed it at the magnetic panel beside the door. It always makes a satisfying muted ding and that sound signals the end of the day and the start of the countdown to the next shift.

      'Have you had a good day?' I called but no reply.

      'Mine was the same as ever.' I grabbed a clean glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from a tap on the side of the fridge, 'finished a few minutes early which is always good.'

      Still no reply.

      'Although,' I continued, 'I've got to find a new way in tomorrow.'

      I stood over my housemate, Zoe. She was lying on the sofa in her indigo dressing gown with her eyes closed. Her long frizzy hair cascaded down over the arm and almost reached the floor.

      'That's what you've done today then?' I asked before downing most of my water. I never drink enough. But the drink reminders on my implant stopped working.

       'Yeah,' Zoe groaned. I think I just woke her up.

      'Again?'

      'You can't beat it. You should try it some time.'

      'No thanks, but I'd like to sit down.'

      Zoe shuffled further down the sofa, now her feet dangled over the edge. I sat down.

      'So, just sitting there with your eyes closed. Not exactly sleeping but not awake either, or, did I wake you?'

      I leant in close to try and get a good look at Zoe's eyes. She'd covered them with her forearm and I couldn't quite see underneath. She moved her arm, opened her eyes and stared right into mine.

      'You'd be so much happier and much more content if you just gave up,' Zoe replied and exhaled heavily.

      'Why?'

      Zoe didn't reply; she just lay there.

      'Can I put the news on? I want to see if I can catch this story I saw on the stream earlier. Something happened in the city centre this morning. I tried to check it out on my way home.'

      Zoe waved her hand in a long broad arc and a crude, holographic humanoid appeared on the wall. Above the image of the hologram, the familiar rolling banner — 18 MONTHS TO A CURE. I can't remember the last time I saw this change. The hologram's brash metallic voice resonated through the glass in my hand.

      'Our main headline this evening. A man, who currently wishes to remain anonymous, tripped and fell in the city centre this morning. At present the incident is still under investigation so no cause has been determined. The strongest theory is that he stumbled on some debris or waste of some kind. We can confirm that the man was not intoxicated at the time of the incident. He has been described as extremely distressed and traumatised by the experience and is currently being treated for a bruised knee, grazed palms and is in receipt of the best psychological care. We have managed to obtain footage of the incident. The man is seen to brace himself for the impact and as a result he absorbed most of the force on his palms and his knee. Regrettably we cannot show you the footage as it has been deemed too distressing for viewers. We now go to 0TS-4, who is at the scene.'

      The image on the wall changed. A different holographic humanoid stood in the city centre with a few maintenance-units scurrying around in the background. This one had an equally harsh voice to that of the holographic reporter.

      'It is still not known what caused the man to trip, though at this point investigators aren't ruling anything out and they are full of speculation. Our information is as up to date as possible. We were updated via an upload completed two minutes and twenty-four seconds ago. The victim's shoes were not brand new and he was used to wearing them and he walks this particular route most mornings. The street cleaning units and maintenance-bots had performed their routine patrol the previous evening and two units were mobilised to this location as part of their morning patrol. These units have been thoroughly inspected but nothing of note has been discovered. Footage of the incident has been studied and due to limitations in the angles available from cameras at the scene, it is difficult to see exactly what was right in front of the victim's feet. It is important now to focus on the issue, most of all, the victim himself. Thank you and back to you NR-43. End transmission.'

      The holographic humanoid reappeared on the wall.

      'Thank you 0TS-4. We would like to draw everyone's attention to a contact number that will be uploaded to all implants shortly. This number is a helpline for those affected by the issue and we can also be reached here via the usual methods. Our latest information update contained the following reminder, the area in which the man fell has been confirmed as safe, and so it is safe to go there should you wish to. It was opened to the public again less than an hour after the incident which many are seeing as a testament to maintenance, repair and investigation units. Tomorrow morning there will be a one-minute silence across the city for the fallen man. Non-hazardous temporary hologram tributes are welcomed on site. A peacekeeper will show you where to place these tributes. The Cure Countdown sits at 18 months but we could see that slashed by—'

      Zoe waved her hand and the apparition disappeared from the wall. I'd never seen a peacekeeper before. I think that's the point of them. You don't see one until you really need it for whatever reason. The closest I'd ever been to seeing one was during a delivery. I'd been signed off and approved as a delivery driver, two weeks before most of the other new starters, and had been allocated an area of the city to cover. My first route ran along the limits of the city, in the green outer edges. Long drives between deliveries, bright buildings and sunlight flowing through trees.

      I'd tried to deliver a package to one of these buildings, set on its own, not on a street. Surrounded by grass and greenery. I wasn't sure about the grass; it could have been the synthetic stuff we have in places in the city. But it could easily have been real, it certainly looked like the grass I had on my visuals. No visible chute and a big solid door. I could hear voices inside, it had to be a lot of people. If every voice was a tree, then through that door lay a dense forest. My hand hesitated. I'd tried to find a chute and failed, I'd knocked and I'd waited. The voices inside never broke their rhythm, never dipped and rose, a constant heavy drone. The weight of it pulled me right up to the door, with my hand hovering over the handle. Clutching the package tightly, I turned the handle. The door didn't open. I left the package and got back into the cab. But I couldn't start the engine, I had an error report on the dashboard and nothing would work. Not even the lights or the wipers. Something thudded onto my side of the van, my window. It was enough to bend the widow. As it recovered and moulded back into shape a woman approached the cab. She was holding something; I don't know what. It was small and white, barely visible through her fingers. My window opened. I hadn't tried to open it, but I might have in my quick check of all the systems. The woman was just out of arms reach when she stopped. Tall, everything about her was long, she even had a long face. She told me if I ever returned, and if I didn't leave immediately, she would call a peacekeeper. The van's engine hummed into life as the window closed. My van faced the wrong way so I had to turn around which meant driving closer to the house. She watched me throughout the entire manoeuvre. And van-cam picked her up too, so she stood on the dashboard. She stayed there on the grass but faded into a speck as I drove away.

      That building doesn't come up in my thoughts, I couldn't face a peacekeeper. But I sometimes think of the road that ran past it, continuing passed that building and onward.

      Zoe sighed and I felt a gentle vibration in my head and my hand. I opened my implant. The number hovered above my hand.

      'That was speedy, have you got it yet?'

      'Mine is on silent. Permanently. Thinking about removing it altogether.'

      'Really? You can't. What will you do without it?'

      'The last five messages I sent were all replies to the same person. You. And I see you every day.'

      I don't remember those messages, whatever they were. I wonder what she'd said. Zoe used to be a pretty avid user of most of the apps and programs but now that they're nearly all gone there isn't much left of interest.

      'I've got to go to bed. I need to plan a new route in the morning before I go in.'

      'Sometimes I'm tired so I go to sleep but then I wake up feeling even more tired so how can I trust anything?' Zoe yawned.

      Weird. I went through to my bedroom, took off my clothes and lay on top of the covers. Who was that woman I bumped into earlier? I'm so lucky that didn't make it onto the news. She could still contact them, but surely, if she was going to she would have done it by now. I can still almost feel that sensation in my arm, like some sort of electricity. Well, maybe it's not feeling but just an intense memory. Definitely not the sickness. I didn't quite get to touch her skin, just her coat — but it was a form of contact. It was unpleasant in that specific situation. But what if there could be a situation where it wasn't… I momentarily felt a soothing warmth at this thought but that was quickly drowned under a black heavy feeling. I don't know why.

Chapter 2

My head buzzed and my hand vibrated as I came around to the idea of morning. I wish that the buzz in my head was calm like the one in my hand. I don't know why the implants are configured this way. But I can't get into the settings anymore to change it. Well, I have access to some settings, like brightness, but very little else really. A gentle shake of the hand and a violent shake of the head are required to turn off the alarm. Sometimes it fools you into thinking you've turned it off but actually it's just waiting to pounce again, even though it's supposed to know from my vitals that I'm awake. Those days I head to my shift with quite the ache in my neck. An ache that doesn't go away until late that day or the next.

      I finished shaking and the curtains opened to reveal a bright new day. Sunlight flooded the empty street below and for a moment the brittle broken buildings seemed new and hopeful. As though the decay could be reversed. My eyes soon adjusted to the scene — a grey grim view. My imagination used to conjure up half-formed images of people walking the street, but not for a long time. The endless 18 months put that positive subconscious to rest. I felt the familiar dull pang of emptiness in my stomach, usual for this time of day.

      I stood in front of the fridge and opened my mouth. A thin metallic cord shot out of the fridge and whistled through the air. It took a small scrape from the inside of my cheek. As it drew back a trail of my saliva dangled down, threatening to touch the floor, but it was sucked up into the end of the cord. The fridge considered its findings. It spat out two poached eggs on a piece of black bread on a small plate. I filled a glass with water from the side of the fridge and sat down on the sofa.

      I opened up my map of the city on my palm. The glowing square was criss-crossed with roads. My implant had already been updated following last night's vote. That street had been redacted from the map. I imagine at some point in the future I'll forget it was there at all. I'm running out of options to find a relatively direct route to the depot. Each new route requires venturing further out of the way. But the map is happy to find new routes for me. I highlighted the green path and it elevated a few inches above the rest of the map. It should be less hostile though, I don't think it's residential. I left a little early, to learn the new route at my own pace.

      On the surface, the new route was as bare as the previous one. And the one before that. Smashed or silent windows loomed over empty streets. I opened the news stream on my hand to find it dominated by yesterday's incident with one headline describing it as, The Fall of Man. And of course the familiar rolling announcement of, 18 Months to Cure. Just for once it would be nice to see a different figure. Someone has now set up a donation page with all proceeds going to the victim of the fall and those affected by the fall. I don't know why that word bothers me so much, victim. I'm sure it wouldn't in another context. Or maybe it's because I almost never come across it and I can't say that I've ever had cause to use it either.

      I went around another corner and the street ran through a small area of synthetic grass. A little further on I saw a group, three women and a man, sitting with their backs to me — at a safe distance from each other of course. They could easily just be variations of the same person, they all wore similar pale pastel coloured shirts and shorts. I couldn't help but overhear them as I passed. Perhaps I listened intently because seeing people is so rare these days. I wanted to approach them but as I needed to get to the depot, I would have to be satisfied with listening and figured I could spare a minute and crouched down behind a low wall to listen. It was an opportunity I might not get again.

      'It's just so, I don't know —' one said.

      '— Terrible,' another finished.

      'I haven't stopped thinking about it since I heard. That poor, poor man.'

      'It's gotten so you can't go out anymore.'

      'Most don't. That's why it's nice when you do. Usually.'

      'We're all giving to the fund, yeah?'

      'Of course. Anyone who doesn't give anything is a waste of space if you ask me. We don't need people like that.'

      'We'll be able to identify the ones that don't give if we see them. Their eye implant will glow orange.'

      'Great. It's not like anyone can't afford to give a little something, is it?'

      'I just, when it comes to the identifying, well—'

      'What is it Jackie?'

      'I can't remember the last time I saw anyone that wasn't one of you.'