Beneath the Gaze of Angels - [Chapter01 Part02] - A Steemit Original Sci-Fi Serial
This is the second part of the first chapter of what I hope will be a science fiction novella.
You can read the opening part here ---> Chapter01 Part01
Maja is leaning on the door frame, arms folded, watching him. The box with this week’s provisions sits outside in the corridor. She lowers her head and scrapes at a scuff mark with the toe-end of one shoe. He is caught mid-movement, arms outstretched, lost in his imprudent schemes.
She draws up her shoulders and walks past him to the window. She is taller than he is by a good inch and well-muscled; a descendent of farming stock in generations long past. Her features are striking with a softness that can be found in her eyes, although not today. Even without it the combination works for him. Maybe that’s where he used all his luck. He probably still owes a debt.
He fetches the food from outside and closes the door. The box feels light but it is not the moment to ask. Maja has turned to watch him. She stands with her back pressed against the glass, arms returned to their folded position. The birds hop to either side, flanking her. They face him across the room; counsels for the prosecution.
‘Tai-chi, Arnaud. We talked about this. We agreed on this.’
‘It helps me relax. You should try it. You have a little tension,’ he gestures. ‘In your shoulders.’
‘Cute, Arnaud. Always cute. Never serious. You know the conversation. Or should I bring up Gaia and we can go through it again. You can point out the words you didn't understand.’
‘Conversations in an Amite residence are not recorded by Gaia. I believe that’s in paragraph thirty-seven of the Contracts.’
‘Forty-eight. And it’s clause. Clause forty-eight of the literal form of the Amite Contracts. You know, I have second year students who know the texts better.’
‘I grew up in a different denomination.’
‘I know, Arnaud. But we have been married for three years. Perhaps you could learn the laws you have chosen to live by?’
‘I chose you. Not your laws.’
‘We come as a package. You made the vows, to me and to the denomination. You remember your vows at least? Or do I have to remind you of those?’
He nods, acquiescent, seeking a turning from the rutted tracks of the argument. He finds none. Maja ploughs ahead without him. ‘And don’t change the subject. The exercises mean you’ve taken another job.’
‘We need the money.’
‘We agreed, Arnaud. There is a lottery. Every day. We still have time.’
They both know it isn’t true but he doesn’t press the point. They are spiralling, on opposite sides of the same whirlpool, slowly being dragged into its depths. He doesn’t mention that their baby is growing up in a freezer, that this is no kind of life for a child. He doesn’t point out the risks of the crying being overheard or of the insulation failing. He tries not to think about what will happen if they find her. Maja doesn’t need to hear these things. He doesn’t want to say them.
‘We need the money.’ He says it again, more slowly, without force. A stubborn statement of fact in place of an argument. She will debate him into a corner given the opportunity.
She crosses the room towards him. Pink flush marks touch her cheeks.
‘You think if you are caught then this will really help you?’ She waves her hand up and down him. At the exercises, he understands. ‘They can tell when you are lying, Arnaud. They can predict what you are going to do before you even walk out the door.’
‘It’s a simple job. Nothing illegal for our denomination. An arbitrage between the laws, that’s all.’ He looks past her at the birds as he says it but sees her reaction in the blur of his peripheral vision. It is a turning away. A shielding from what she feels to be coming.
‘You think you can fool them? You can’t even hide your lies from me.’
Their voices have have been hushed but a small hiccuping wail sounds from the recesses of the kitchen. They move in unison, almost colliding in the doorway. He hesitates, Maja does not. Yet the argument is put aside. He sees the anger drain from her as she reaches the freezer. A smile illuminates her face. He imagines the softness returning to her eyes as she reaches in to tend the child.
Their child, without name or token. Waiting to exist.
This is the second half of the first chapter of what I hope will be a science fiction novella. I plan to publish a chapter a week but as my process of writing and re-writing is slow, bordering on glacial, that's much more of a challenge than it sounds. We'll see.
The novella is set in London, in a world that is vaguely post-apocalyptic and fully post-decentralisation. A world in which a man may choose the laws he wishes to live by, with one exception. There are also angels, of a sort. But we'll come to all of that. Otherwise you won't need to read it, will you?
This is a new work, original and direct to Steemit.
Thanks for reading!
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