Beaver2416 (Reviler's Affray) (5 page)

False Christ … false Christ--
Beaver mentally repeated to himself.

He really didn’t know what a
Christ
even was, but the term
false
fit in his mind with the greatest of accuracy.

After a proc of fluffy banter, the potentate ended his monologue with the tagline:

“
Strength, Discipline, Order--My word is truth, my word is god.
”

--This is the Academy’s motto.

These words are found everywhere throughout the Academy controlled lands. They are inscribed, carved, painted, plastered, lasered, and written on virtually everything deemed
official
by the Elites. This phrase is so prevalent in Academy culture, that it is most simply known and repeated as
SDOTG
(pronounced S-dot-G). Then, the progscreen faded to black and the victual android lowered its mechanized arms, as it spun back around.

“
SdotG
…” Beaver reluctantly interjected as he lowered his arms from his salute.

He turned and once again took his place at the uncomfortable stool, slumping in silence. It was not much longer before the Vacu-bot would appear, as it did every night after the Great Master’s address. Beaver always hated the thing, because in his mind it was so rude. It would suck up anything that crosses its path. One time it even suctioned one of Beaver’s shoes right off his feet. He tried to explain what had happened to his superiors at Perpetua, but they did not believe him. He was lashed five times with an Elite’s cane, and then fined One hundred Goldpence for a replacement shoe.

The whole system of
Electronic Goldpence
(or GP for short) was nothing more than a joke among Selects. It was the official Academy currency, yet there was next to nothing that Select members could really use it for. Even though, each and every workjob had its own level of wages; everything for the Selects was regimented and rationed. To them, it was more like an elaborate zoo, with strict feeding times, viewing times, and cleaning times. The far-past ideology of Capitalism, or more correctly,
the right to own and hold capital
was almost non-existent among Selects.

Elites, as well as the Humbles, had their own forms of commerce. The Selects however, are barred from any form of trade, except on Decision days. Even then, there was nothing that could be bought and brought into their homes; other than Academy issued, upgraded equipment such as new androids or progscreens. You could not buy a charm or trinket or even a common shard of ancient glass and bring it into your domicile. The Ada-lasers with their shadow-hadar scanners made it virtually impossible to bring any sort of non-Academy issued item into your home. So for the Selects, their sort of shopping was usually confined to consumptives like foods and drugs. It was not uncommon for Selects to horde GP’s for spans only to be used to get wasted on synth-liquor or overdose using mid-ancient drugs on their chosen decision day.

The official Academy stance on this issue, from the Lev-desk of the G.M. is “
If they live, they better work their quota the next day. If they die, the more ration and GP’s for everyone else.
”

Usually, when someone died or killed themselves, that was when the Academy felt
benevolent
and gave at random, a greater ration or more GP linked to a lucky worker’s Bio-mark. Why the Academy never did anything about the Select’s dangerous vices, is because they see it as a form of discretionary population control.

“
It is better for the non-conformists who hide from my bidding to kill themselves, than spending all the time and effort to keep them in line.”

–These are words from the Great Master’s mouth, trickled down to the entire population.

“
OW!
” Beaver said, grabbing his thigh.

The Vacu-bot ran into his side, almost knocking him off of the stool.

“
Sorry Beet …
” it said, as it scurried in a different direction.

The stupid domestic robot could never pronounce Beaver’s name correctly.

“Next trade off, I’m going to get a
Tommymop
and drop you on a
pile of excrement
in Stowelowly!” Beaver said with a shaken fist.

The term
tommymop
was part of a form of acceptable
explicit
language among the Academy patrons. The Tommymop or
Autonomous cleaning device
as it was officially known was the first model of many Academy issued failures. Quickly pulled from service, the Tommymop was known for horrific, disabling injuries caused by its
bump and go
action and spinning rotomop. It also had the ornate ability to spontaneously combust. This led to the slang vernacular of calling everything that was bad, lazy, or unacceptable a Tommymop.

“Now, Beaver2416 … you be are play nice.” The victual android said in a demanding tone.

Beaver laughed out loud, as he could not help himself. He then, got up from the creaking stool, and sat down in the comfortable Lev-seat. The progscreen suddenly illuminated and the wave holgraphia machine began to whir in synchronization. This was the only time of night that Beaver would ever sit in the Lev-seat. It was for two reasons: The first, being that it was time for the nightly report, which was nothing more than a biased news programme about what has happened today throughout New Judah. This was the only time each day that rather than the standard bombardment of pro-Academy, Pro-G.M. propaganda, it was remotely tolerable to Beaver. Secondly, because it was the last programme of the night before slumber; it would all turn off soon after.

Beaver slumped down in the chair, trying to make up for his moments of discomfort. As the screen brightened with colorful graphics, a very distinguished gentleman with plasticized grey hair materialized into view, sitting behind a Lev-desk. He had an electron-eye strapped on one side of his head, feeding the director’s instructions directly into his cerebellum. The eye flashed as the news information was relayed directly into his mind, controlling his every action by bypassing his cortical and subcortical network. This was to prevent any form of free-thought or rebellious actions on the part of the commentator.

Puppet people
(or just P.P. for short) is how Beaver and Tim referred to them in secret.

This was very much true, because just one slip of the tongue or one outburst of free will, could spark a new ideology in the minds of followers of the Great Master. A sentence or even a word spoken that was a contra-position of the Edict was something that the Academy could not afford to happen. Truly, with all of their technology, weaponry, and social structuring; the Academy powers were merely a house of cards, when it came to the sheer power of their enslaved. Tim and Beaver knew more than anyone in Westbrook that in spite of their societal positioning and downtrodden placement, they were the majority.

The news anchor railed on about new, exciting uses for garbage and human excrement and debates on how the price of cinnamon could surpass Cumal in the coming spans.

“
Finally!
”--Beaver murmured to himself.

The newsperson outstretched his hand towards the Weath-girl. The sightglas shifted and focused upon a gleeful, mid-young woman giving the daily weather report and bright index. It was the only part of the programme that Beaver actually enjoyed. One reason was, with the Ionosphere in a state of flux from the Screen; the weather basically stayed the same year-round. New Judah’s meteorological features were so predictable that they had it timed to ticts. The Weath-girl always told the exact times there would be inclement conditions, like rare bursts of rain or even rarer snow; and when they would promptly leave.

The other reason is because, in spite of all the structure and regimen that the Academy powers thrust upon the entire populous, the Weath-girl was just there, telling information that was already common knowledge. It is information that is instantly beamed into the electronic brains of every android and servile robot, as well as found plastered on every progscreen. Canopies throughout New Judah automatically retract in times of bright and re-advance in times of rain or snow. Point blank: the Weath-girl was unneeded and served no purpose. This thought of a nonsensical action on the part of the Academy actually delighted Beaver greatly. Even though she too had an electron-eye, it was because of this irrationality on the part of the Academy; that he always perceived her as a
rebel
that did not conform to the system. 

In short, Beaver2416 was a fan.

“
Now back to you, Timore18
…” the Weath-girl said, as once again the sightglas shifted.

Beaver rolled his eyes and said to himself--“
do it.
”

This was because he knew what was going to happen next.

The commentator stood up from his Lev-desk and approached the sightglas with a beaming, plastic smile.

“
Good dark to you all! And remember, all you cats and kittens out there … Strength, Discipline, and Order--SdotG!”
Timore18 said, ending with a motion like swinging a golf club.

“
Heathen …
” Beaver grumbled quietly, as he shook his head.

The progscreen then flashed the words--
now with honor, rise for our anthem and Great Master.
Once again Academicis meis, mi Adoráte’ blared throughout the streets of Westbrook, only this time it was pre-recorded.

Beaver always felt this was so arrogant.

They just played the boring thing when the G.M. did his banter … why do they always have to play it again?--
He thought to himself.

The progscreen flashed with images of valor, conflict, and the G.M. as he stood motionless and agitated. As the G.M. finished his hand waving and plastic smiles, he turned to look at a stylized, ani-map of the Academy conquered lands. A single tear fell from his left eye, just as the music stopped, signifying his love for his creation. Tim said, it was because a bug flew into his eye when they were filming. Beaver always had to restrain himself for laughing out loud when he saw it nightly, ever since he told him that.

Beaver as well as the victual android, raised their arms and said in unison “SdotG
.
” The progscreen then faded to black, and the entire house fell silent. Beaver then began counting out loud. Usually it happened at the number twelve however, he had made it as far as twenty seven before.

“
12 … 13 … 14
…” then Beaver was suddenly interrupted.

“
Time for slumber Beaver2416 … bed is preparatory
.” Viki stated. 

Beaver once again laughed at the victual android’s broken English. Many times he would just lie there staring at the walls, however this dark he was ready for bed. He started walking down the short hallway that led to the slumber room. Past the halfway point, an articulated ceil-bot dropped in front of his face, near the threshold of the sleep chamber.

“
Did you sanitize yet
?” it said already knowing the answer.

“
No.
” Beaver interjected, as he did every dark.

“Then
march
, mister!” the ceil-bot demanded, pointing towards the
Basintory
.

The Basintory was a small room adjacent to the slumber room.  It had a steel mirror and a Lev-basin. The Lev-basin is a multi-purpose sanitation and sanitizing installation. It is used to capture human bodily waste as well as for the purpose of mouth sanitization with its long, jointed robotic appendage.

“Welcome Beaver2416!” the Lev-basin commented as the appendage inserted itself into his mouth. As the appendage cleaned Beaver’s teeth, gums, and tongue; the other part of the Lev-basin literally vacuumed out all of his waste matter through his goodi-port. Every Academy member from birth is fitted with a goodi-port that is surgically implanted to their right hip, and affixed in an internal pipeline network to the human bladder, bowels, and intestines. This was the Academy’s structure in place to keep everyone regimented, working, and without the mid-ancient excuse of “
I have to go to the bathroom.”
The Academy androids always know when you need
servicing
or not.

After mouth sanitation and waste evacuation, the Lev-basin then protracted a tube like device, locking onto another side port of Beaver’s oversuit. It then filled his neo-leather clothing with an ion-pos charged powder. The powder felt warm as it swirled inside of Beaver’s oversuit. This was the Omni-digital equivalent of a mid-ancient water and soap filled bath.  Soon, all of the particles were vacuumed and the tube unlocked and retracted.

“
Sanitization is complete
…” the Lev-basin interjected as it retracted into its former position. As Beaver left the basintory, the ceil-bot once again prevented him from the slumber room.

“
Did you sanitize yet
?” the ceil-bot again demanded.

“
Yes!
” Beaver said in a sarcastic tone. It was so stupid to him, how the robotic sentry always asked the same question twice.