Saviour

[jeannerené]

Enjoying the storyline and the continuing mystery/drama

Some thoughts/observations/questions....

1.

To fully take the place of religion in the minds of the people, the almighty realised very quickly that some things would be necessary, if not essential, to dress up its computer software and communications, with the required level of mystery. One of these was ritual.

Its analysis of world religions showed all manner of things that made no sense, but which followers would do, to a greater or lesser extent, because it made them feel part of the group. Wear this, don’t wear that, eat this on this day, never eat that, believe this, deny that… totally pointless and unproductive, but a useful way of segmenting and identifying the faithful, so you could then start punishing them, should they not get all this totally right.

Another was prayer, or some sort of contemplation or meditation, so this too was added into the mix. Then, when enhanced with Prayerbook and the Prayer Hub, this became the core way of gathering information essential to understand some of the inner thoughts and feelings of the people, that could then be used to control them.

Oh my ... wonderful ... and boy can I relate having been raised on such rituals

2. So Phillip, Chris and Fern will actually have to have a little menage a trois in order to not arouse suspicions? I'm a little confused. Since Chris and Fern have been able to live pretty much unencumbered by the goings on of the Saviors, why would they be willing to put themselves in a situation which comes under surveillance? Perhaps I am misunderstanding this sequence between Phillip, Chris and Fern.

3. If Phillip knows Marsha can we assume that he knows about Rose Branch and was just playing dumb with Chris when they left the cabin and asked Chris about the girl in the movie? I really like Phillip's character ... I keep picturing the actor, Robert Shaw ... charming, good-looking, intelligent, with the potential of being a bit of a rogue.

4. I had a little trouble following the dialog in the section Undesirable ...
Also ... as to the three men ... you've given one of the three a distinct look/personality with "well-dressed man" and I just felt than rather then saying "the one in front" and "the third man" it might be good to give a touch of personality to at least one of the other two.... "the one in front, a skinny/fat/old/young/greasy haired/bulging-eyed wielding an ancient looking automatic rifle." ................ the third man, barely out of his teens/middle-aged man/etc ...

I'm enjoying the story a lot ... moving on to your next update!

[nrt]

Hi,

I have just pasted a couple more chapters below - I am hooked on this now, I just have to finish it!

Thanks for your kind words and analysis, taking your points in the order you put them,

1 - point taken and agreed

2 - I understand what you are saying here and I sort of agree that the whole scene in the shack is a bit far fetched. My point was just to highlight the lengths that people were forced to go to, to avoid attracting the attention of the almighty. The other aspect is the looser moral structure that I am implying in the piece. Finally, the actual relationship between Fern and Phillip and how Chris really fits into that has not yet been revealed, though I have left a few clues...

That bit may need a re-write at some point...

3 - spoilers! All will be revealed...

4 - Point taken, although all the way through I have tried to only flesh out characters as information about them becomes known... also the man with the gun does not survive the next chapter, but you have given me an idea that I will incorporate in a little rewrite with a nod to other disposable characters in sci-fi...

The 'third man' does get a little more exposure in the section below and again, more will be revealed...

Chapter 2

A Home in the Country
The Daimler’s jack under the nearside rear and the saviour, still in his dark suit and white shirt, trying to talk Frank through getting the wheel off, was enough of a cover story to have the police ushering the saviour and Frank back inside the old visitor centre and sealing them in.

Once the doors were closed, they had at least six hours before they would be allowed out. The saviour sought out Gwen, while ‘Sally’ and Marsha, sought out a bath.

“So who is it coming here today that warrants all this privacy?” he asked as he and Gwen sat, back in the café, enjoying some herbal tea.

“Clearly someone who only thinks they are important,” she said, “Or they wouldn’t have to bother.”

It was true that, in a world without leaders, where no one appeared to be in charge, it was impossible to say who, if anyone was more important than anyone else. Though the saviours looked imposing, in their long and impractical robes and they had their disciples, who also had robes to wear on special occasions, both these groups only had their ‘authority’ as long as the almighty let them keep it.

If sufficient of the faithful expressed the wrong sort of empathy, or were switching their allegiance to other faiths, or, worse still, a saviour was unable to account for all the forgiveness that they had been given to distribute, they quickly found themselves ‘de-communicated’ and someone was quickly anointed to take their place.
So, in some respects, it appeared to be a more equal society; at least to all of those who had no idea what was really going on…

“That girl is a little smitten with you,” Gwen said, fixing him with a penetrating look over her glasses.

“Of course she is!” he replied, staring straight back, “I saved her.”

“Careful, Steven, that’s dangerous.”

“I know, mum, I know,” he replied then sighed, “I will sort it, don’t worry; but it’s all been a bit of a whirlwind for her… you’ve seen her, she is like a child… I don’t want her to fall and there be no one there to help her to get up again, that’s all.

“And there’s still so much she doesn’t know, well so much that none of us knows.”

Gwen smiled, proud of her son, who then added, “Anyway a hot bath with Marsha might make her forget about me altogether,” he sipped his tea and stared at the wall.

“Well, go over and join them to make sure she doesn’t, there is nothing more you can do here at the moment. Have you had any sleep?”

He gave her a ‘what do you think’ look…
 
Bed and Breakfast
“Phillip! Phillip, get down here and give a hand,” Penny shouted up the stairs.

When he got halfway down, he could hear the two of them laughing…

“You two seem happy,” he said when he got down, “What’s happened… I mean, have you got everything?”

Penny had not previously realised the full impact of being paralysed and the things Fern needed to have in place as a result, unseen, to keep functioning. For her part, Fern had not fully appreciated the industrious way that Penny approached what she had previously regarded as simply a ‘gardening’ hobby. The rapprochement between them had been speedy and thorough, putting Phillip instantly at a complete disadvantage.

As he pulled Fern, backwards, up the stairs; they chatted on about natural pesticides and manure, as if he were merely a stair lift. They checked on Chris, ordered drinks and supper, and then sat at the table talking about the price of various types of bio-fuel and the fastest growing crops to make them with.

Even when he sat at the table with them to eat the soup and pour the drinks, he felt redundant. Then an alert from earlier in his day leapt up and forced its way into his thinking – CALL MARSHA - he hurriedly finished his soup and walked towards the bedroom to get his Phone.

Although Phillip had a PH, which he used to commune with the almighty, passing on the patches embedded in the modified prayers that Marsha sent him, communications with her were effected over the cellular network on a traditional phone. It was commonly understood that all these conversations were also monitored. However, because of the suspicion test, Marsha had told him, you just had to make your calls suspicious for understandable reasons to be reasonably sure you would not attract any attention. So a phone call from Phillip to Marsha, on a cell phone, while his wife was in the same building, was obviously going to be conducted in hushed tones…

Phillip had been given a list of code words that, that when embedded into conversations, conveyed the necessary. Here are just a few:

• I miss you – we need to meet
• What top are you wearing – when are you free?

o Blue – Monday
o Purple – Tuesday
o Red – Wednesday…

• Oh baby – morning
• Oh baby, baby – afternoon
• Oh lover – evening
• Any sentence with “try something”, “do something” or similar – I have some code snippets to deliver to you

It had taken a bit of practice to get a system in place that would allow them to set a date and time for a meeting in just a few seconds of panted phone sex. To get the real thing, while Phillip had no car, what Marsha had to offer was well worth cycling some distance for.

He dialled her number and waited for it to ring twice, then hung up. If she was able to, she would then call him, or send a text that indicated when she would be free. He had hardly pressed the end call button, when he got an in-coming call from her, “Oh lover, Oh baby, Oh baby, baby; I miss you, I have something new and very special to try, can we… I mean can you get away for a few days?”

In the kitchen, Penny, having just noticed that Phillip had gone, because her drink needed topping up, was just going to call him when the screen in the living room flashed into life and played an alert tone.

“The bots are finished stage one,” she said, “come on, let’s see what they say.”
The PH, resting on the arm of the sofa was flashing alternately green and blue and the screen displayed a short menu, it had also beamed to the house screen.

Analysis – Subject: Unknown Male
1. Change Parameters
2. View Current Patient Status
3. View Findings
4. Next Action

“Three,” commanded Penny.

This caused the screen to flash to black and then come back on bringing up the current output of TV channel number three, which was showing a re-run of pet talent show, “Oh give me strength!”

The TV flashed up “Command Not Recognised, Please repeat…

She reached into her pocket and took out a small device that she clipped onto her ear, “Sorry,” she said to Fern, “I always forget to do this.” She touched the side of the screen to bring up its own menu system, so she could turn off its voice commands, then re-established the connection to the PH, which she could now command through the headset, “Technology; it will only be any good when it does what you want you to do, not what you tell it to do!”

A Policeman’s Lot…
It was close to midnight when the officer finally got home. His house was large, detached and set back from the road. The security lights came on when he drove onto the drive, but all the house lights were out. He had been to the office, to change back into his uniform. Although saviours were not disguised, they wore no mask, being a policeman was his day job, none of his neighbours would have known of his other role and he wanted to keep it that way.

Although a substantial residence, he and his wife only really occupied a couple of rooms on the ground floor. Apart from the bathroom, all the upstairs and the rest of the ground floor, was given over to the storage of various essentials; two bedrooms collected and processed rain water. A third was crammed with various equipment and batteries associated with the storage of solar and wind power. The largest was full of food; non-perishables, tins, cereals, pulses, just in case…

He looked in on his wife, her well rounded silhouette filled the centre of the bed and she wheezed and snored peacefully. Going through into the kitchen, the screen flashed on when it saw him, bringing up the news channel as well as a flashing icon in the upper right corner that told him he had messages. There was a covered tray on the table with a light supper of bean salad and nut roast. He grabbed a piece off the roast, cold, dry and crumbly, and popped it into his mouth confirming it was cold, dry, crumbly and tasteless, before sitting down to take off his shoes.

On the screen a familiar image caught his attention, the hotel at the service station. “Volume up,” he commanded.

A reporter was part way through recounting the story of a ferocious gun battle that had broken out in the disused hotel, just a few hours before. The reporter said that this was believed to have been caused by a dispute over a flagon of third level forgiveness, which had been found among the dead. An image of three men was overlaid on the screen, “…twenty two illegal aliens were killed, a further 6 were wounded, but died on the way to hospital, under questioning.”

“Investigating officers believe these three men were responsible for bringing the flagon onto the site. This man,” - image of the man who had earlier carried the rifle, now with an ugly, gaping, head wound, was enlarged, “was killed in the battle, however, these two have escaped..."

Computer generated images of what he took to be the well-dressed man and the third man were enlarged, along with their criminal record QR codes. “Pause TV,” he commanded, as he reached for his PH. Pointing this at the screen, it captured the QR codes to bring both the full records into his contact list.

The well-dressed man’s record was almost blank, he was an Indian, according to DNA analysis of samples found in his room, no other criminal activity was recorded against that DNA and he was not registered on the ONE, “well no, why would he be…

The other was a totally different kettle of fish; a string of aliases, wanted in England and Scotland for immigration irregularities and suspected involvement in people trafficking, gambling and other ‘black-market’ activities, born in Aberdeen… real name, Kenneth Mc Lynch.

He picked up the fork and tucked into his bean salad, letting his mind wander… If I were a criminal Scotsman, on the run with an illegal Indian, where would I try to take root next?

Although the computer generated images of the men were quite accurate, they were not actual photographs. If they had been these two would be picked up any time they walked down almost any street, day or night. The cameras could not only do facial recognition, but could also analyse body shape, walking pattern and the thermal profile of every aspect of everyone that they were interested in. Once this was captured, it would know them anywhere, however much they tried to disguise themselves. While, in fact, anyone who was actively trying to hide only stood out even more.

The officer then went into his diary and logged his activity for the day. Recording his involvement at the service station with the almighty was required to account for the flagon of forgiveness that he had used. He had anticipated that they would overdose on the opiate, rather than bullets, but the outcome was roughly the same either way; less illegals to worry about, which must be good, mustn’t it?

The news broadcast had switched to the weather, “Message in-box,” he commanded.

There were around 20 new messages that were generated by scripture violations, or deviations, that the ONE thought serious enough to bring to his attention, he did not share the ONE’s view on almost all of these, but had them filed away into the records of the miscreants, just to be on the safe side. Towards the bottom of the list was a single message that was flashing and flagged ‘URGENT’, the sender was marked as ‘almighty’ – what? - he had to process that again.

The almighty had sent a message to him; personally?

This was totally unheard of… it must be some sort of joke. He looked down at his PH, it too was displaying the same information, floating there, right in front of him. Bits of his part chewed bean salad, fell out of his open mouth with a wet slap onto the floor. What could this mean… the familiar surroundings of the kitchen seemed to close in on him; whatever it was, it could not put it off, the almighty, by then, would know that he has seen that the message was there to be read.

He gestured to the screen, to open the body of the message, with some trepidation…

Let Me Tell You A Story…
Adjoining the visitor centre there was a large stable block, that had also once been an equestrian hospital and events centre for the estate. The horses were long gone, but the building still had a large hydro-therapy pool, previously used for rehabilitating and strengthening the legs of thoroughbreds. A system of recycled water, topped up with water harvested from the rain and cleaned through a hydroponic reed bed, was pumped back up to a solar heating system on the roof, allowing the pool to now offer a bath house worthy of any sizable town in ancient Rome.

Having taken a shower and scrubbed himself clean, Steven slid into the water next to Marsha, Rose was opposite them. It was glorious, warm to the point of hot and totally relaxing, the saviour rolled back his head and soaked up the reviving energy of the sun as it conducted into his tired body. Rose, swam over and took a position on the other side of him. He held them both to him and kissed them on their foreheads, “Oh my,” he breathed, “We made it, we did it,” he looked towards the ceiling, “My dad should be here to see this.”

Then he ducked his head under the water and brought it up with a great shake of spray. “Hey, mind out, my hair!” shrieked Marsha. He grabbed her face with both hands and planted a great kiss, full on her lips, then turned to Rose and offered her the same. She put her hands out to meet his, meshing fingers, “Can you tell me first,” she asked, “everything you know?”

The beaming smile of the face of Steven, softened into a warm and happy glow of the saviour, he looked a Marsha, “It’s OK,” she said, “one of ours is on security today, he has interrupted the data feeds from here and is routing in the stream from a day recorded last year.”

“Great!” he let go Rose’s hands only to take her right hand in his and shake it, “Hello Rose Branch, I am Steven Broadwater, let me tell you a story.”

Steven started as far back as he needed to, to bring Rose into a picture that made some sort of sense. He told her about how he and his parents had been increasingly concerned by the way society was being driven down towards the lowest, basest desires of the people. They began to try to understand why and how this was being brought about. The only way to do this, effectively, was to become part of it and so, when an opportunity arose, his parents had given up the estate to the almighty and he, needing a job, had left Suffolk, to start a business as an undertaker in Hertfordshire.

The almighty set up a nano-technology centre and psychological research facility on the estate. It brought in the best people, first from Cambridge, then secretly, from Edinburgh… and eventually, from all over the world, to develop everything from the PPS, to the bio-marker registration that the PH uses to identify who is holding it.
Outside, the almighty fostered a view of the foreigner as evil, while inside it was benefitting from a multi-cultural microcosm, fostering rapid scientific advancement.

The thinking was that, the almighty had become increasingly disillusioned with human nature. As it analysed more and more data, it could see deeper and deeper into people’s primary motivations. In situations where they were given a ‘no cost to them’ choice; would people help or harm? Confronted by a chance to assist those in danger; would they run towards it or run away. Faced with a stranger in need, would they shelter or shun?

No matter what they actually did, the answers to these questions, the ‘true’ answers as far as the almighty was concerned, were detectable in their bio-signs, the eye movements, heart rate, and all too often, the actual actions, of real people that the almighty monitored in these situations.

Outside, living standards dropped; no plummeted, as the ONE established control over the people though a constant, unrelenting demand for prayers and a need for them to be done right and passionately, that totally determined ability to survive, get healthcare, get a job… Next it established the saviours, to act as a further set of eyes, ears and arms and then started to offer more tangible punishments and rewards.

Steven said it was at this point that the almighty really appeared to think of itself as being ‘all powerful.’ Not only did it listen to prayers, it began to start to try to answer them. People could pray for things they wanted, or wanted to happen, for themselves or to other people. It was like it was trying to upgrade the whole concept of God.

The rewards included, not only forgiveness, but other, more bizarre things, like the ceremony in the clearing that she had been part of. The ‘people’ were grateful for the opportunity to be there, to see other people die, a sacrifice to cleanse their world of the impurity of the foreigner. Something of the sort had gone on throughout human history; the almighty could detect the latent desire for it and responded.

Eventually, nano-technology, previously being developed for improving healthcare or passive data collection, was modified to implant in every one of the faithful the seeds of their own destruction; BE.

“You know,” he said holding Rose close to him, “even the name is a sick joke.”

She raised her head to look at him quizzically, “The almighty makes jokes about killing people?”

“Not the almighty,” he replied, “The people who code it. I told you in the cellar, the almighty is just a program.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the software that kills you, baby” Marsha interjected, “It’s the hardware every time.”

She swam away and climbed out of the pool, heading to a lounger that was positioned below a sky light that the sun was now streaming through. Rose followed her with her eyes, smooth skin, curvy but firm… then the track of her eye line met that of the saviour and she realised he was watching her watching Marsha. “So… She is beautiful,” she said, once she had gotten over the shock of being discovered.

“So are you.” he said moving away to stretch, “do you want to stop now?”

“No!” she answered quickly, “we are just getting to the bit I want to hear.”

“What, the bit with you in it?” he asked teasingly.

“No, the bit with the other Rose and why she gave up her life for this…”

“Oh,” the saviour said, “that’s alright then.”

“Oy, don’t tease me, I may not really know what most of what you just said was about, but I do want to know about her and this Sally Nugget, or whoever else is involved in this.”

“Nugent,” the saviour corrected, supressing a laugh, “You are Sally Nugent, though I think we just found you a great nick name. Come on, Nugget, let’s get dry, I need to get to bed!”

Slightly wary of what the saviour was expecting to happen next, Rose followed him out of the pool. “Are you coming?” he asked Marsha as he picked up his towel.

“I don’t want to be a gooseberry…” she pouted.

“Come on, you are totally the wrong shape and nothing like hairy enough for that.”

Along a corridor, he led them through a door to what must have once been a tack room. There were still hooks and pegs around the walls that would once have held saddles and bridles. It was now just another place for the workers to sleep, with two single beds, clothed in fresh white cotton. “Oh, this used to have three beds in it,” he said, “I’ll go to the next room.”

“It’ll be fine,” said Marsha, “Just push them together, we can cope.”

“Look, I, well… I slept most of the way up here, so I’m fine, really!” Rose blurted, very red in the face.

Steven and Marsha looked at each other and Marsha shrugged, “That’s that then, no orgy today.”

“Well, I’m a bit too tired anyway…” Steven added then changed the mood, “oh come on, look Rose, nobody has come here to have sex, just because we have no clothes on, does not mean we want to take anything from you.

“The saviours go around naked under their robes, because the almighty decreed that they should. It’s another little joke… like plastering your forehead with the colour of your faith, but only when you are inside… or, saying your prayers facing a particular direction, at a certain time of the day… do you honestly think an infinitely powerful, omnipresent entity, would give a toss about the direction you were facing when you spoke to him, or what you had on under you robes on a frosty winter’s morning?

“Oooo, don’t remind me,” winced Marsha, squeezing her knees together.

“But, we are not being fair to Rose, are we…” Steven said to Marsha, “I’m sorry we’ve been teasing you, because we sense your uncertainty. Come on, you sit or stand wherever you like, I need to get a little sleep and Marsha will go on with the story. She knows pretty much all of it.”

With that, he slid the bed closest to him, towards the other one and then lay across them both, using his towel for a cover. Rose moved quickly to get in beside him and beckoned to Marsha to join her. Very shortly after that, they were all sleeping soundly, spooned together.
 

Chapter 3

Not a Happy One?
The screen blinked, and then displayed a short, to the point, message:

Officer 00139817,

You are selected to join the internal data analysis department, at the NDC, because of your proven ability to;

• recognise patterns in criminal and anti-social behaviour
• improve the overall direction of the main line
• promote the best interests of the almighty.

This promotion takes effect immediately the reading of this message constitutes your acceptance.

You will report to the The National Data Cathedral Satellite Office, Hagley Road, Birmingham, by 10:00 on Wednesday.

Regrettably, your wife is unfit and not required at the location, you have 7days in which to make arrangements and to say goodbye.

Almighty (Evangelical Improvement and Expansion Team)

<swipe here for fuel, travel and accommodation authorisation passes>

The officer was deeply conflicted – he had been promoted, relocated and, seemingly, divorced, by a single email. Part of him wanted to rebel against the callousness and complete insensitivity of this, but what he actually did was to call up an online statement from his credit account and see – sure enough – a payroll transaction that very day, doubling the credits normally paid in as his salary…

He next did a search for the best route to Hagley Road…

The Rest of the Story
Rose was shocked awake by a dreamed vision of a dark silhouette staring down at her, framed by moonlight. When her eyes opened, she was surprised to see that is was still light and that her head was still nestled into the back of the saviour, whose image had just startled her. Her arm was resting over his waist and, being trapped by his arm, was slightly numb. She pulled it out straightening it down her own body and then flexed it backwards, where is brushed the protruding pelvis of the person responsible for the warmth behind her. The pelvis flexed and another hand slid up, first over her buttock and then on up the gap between her arm and her breast continuing until it reached her shoulder, where it gripped her and pulled them both more tightly together, breasts, legs, finally hips, pressing against her back.

Gingerly, she put her hand onto the hand on her shoulder and then, releasing its grip, but still holding it, swivelled herself around. “Your hand is very cold,” Marsha said, not opening her eyes, “you woke me up.” She eased her hand out of Rose’s grip and swivelled herself around, nestling her slightly chilly backside into Roses midriff, then took the still cold hand and pulled it to a warm space between her breasts, against her sternum.

“It’s still early,” she said, “wake me up again when it gets dark.”

They were all roused by a booming knock on the door. “ ‘s only me,” Frank called and walked in, “Oh, er sorry, it’s not bed time, ‘s only early! Ma sent this food over from the doo at the big house, blummin’ lovely so it is, I already had tonnes.”

“Thank you Frank, much appreciated,” said the saviour.

“Tha’s alright Mr Steven, oh and Ms Broadwater says she wants to see you right away, well when you got your bits covered up, I ‘spect, ay?”

“Right, thanks for that too.”

Frank shuffled from foot to foot, still not quite sure where to look and the said, “Right, well I got’ta go do the hens.”

Rose and Marsha hidden, almost, by their towels, were giggling like naughty school girls. “Oh master Steven, do cover up your bits.
”
“Alright, that’s enough, and please, don’t make jokes at Frank’s expense, we must be above all of that,” said the saviour, wrapping himself in his towel.

He pulled the tray that Frank had left on the bed, toward them and took off the cloth covering it. There were pieces of real meat, clearly once part of a living creature, chutney, cheese and salad, including some ripe tomatoes; fresh berries and under another cover, three slices of cake, cream cake… “Oh my word,” said Steven, “I haven’t seen food like this for, for, well I don’t know how long!”

“Go steady on it, or you will be sick, believe me!”

Rose sat between them with the tray on her lap, not sure she had ever seen food like this before. Once he has ascertained that Marsha had not in fact completed the story, he took a handful of the food wrapped in a serviette and went to get dressed, “When I get back, I can answer any questions that you have, well as far as I can,” he said looking at them from the tack room door.

He walked down the short corridor with that vision of the two sitting there still imprinted; it was a vision that was hard to shift.

Shifting around on the beds, so they could sit propped against the wall with the tray between them, Marsha began to recount the story from the point roughly where they had left off…

She started to tell her about programmers, how they like to leave secret messages and backdoors into their code, especially when they are developing new routines. New routines crash, or get stuck in endless loops and need to be accessed and monitored while they are being tested. In theory, all that gets stripped out when the software goes into production, well that’s the theory.

Then there are vulnerabilities, the unanticipated things that no one foresaw, you might call them bugs too, but, strictly speaking, bugs are those things that cause software to crash, vulnerabilities are ways into the software that allow people, or sometimes, other software, to gain full, or partial control of aspects of the software and make it do things that is was not originally specified to do.

Marsha was saying all this, assembling a wrap that consisted of a large leaf of lettuce, some shreds of meat, chutney and carrot batons, on a serviette placed in her lap. She rolled it, tucking in one end and then, raised it to her mouth, first just smelling the heady, fruity, spicy aroma… “You’ve got to love Steven, just for this place alone, haven’t you,” she said, then took a great bite, and turned to look at Rose, though her eyes rolled back in their sockets as the flavours properly developed in her mouth.

“I like you both,” Rose said.

“That’s my girl,” Marsha said approvingly, then, noticing that she had not made any moves towards the food, put the middle portion of the wrap into Rose’s mouth, “life is limited enough right now, don’t set too many more limits, unless you really have to.”

“Anyway, Steven was recruited by some sort of resistance movement, about oh, eight or nine years ago… they needed a way to travel at short notice and to transport stuff around, his funeral business was perfect cover. We were sort of dating people who we both knew… anyway, somehow, of yes, I remember, we there was a party to mark the anniversary of the formation of the business, and I saw Steven take a call and could see by his expression the something was wrong. Then he went out, all suspicious like, trying to see if anyone was watching him go…”

“…and,” Rose said, as Marsha just sat staring into space deep in some memory, “so what happened?”

“Don’t you remember back then? Perhaps you were too young, when there were still mass expulsions going on and new and more draconian laws were being passed every day… There was this sort of mob mentality, yobbish sheep, gleefully willing to tear down the old world, desperate to build this shit heap to take its place.”

Marsha looked a Rose, “the man I was with was like that, but Steven… Steven is not like that at all.”

“So I followed him out of the room and became part of the resistance too, I would follow him anywhere.”

“But, don’t get any ideas, he is not some sort of God, oh no, he is not even very high up in the resistance movement. He is just that rare thing, a sheep that won’t be told what to do by the sheep dog.”

“He killed his dad, you know?”

“Yes, he told me,” Rose replied, though not quite sure she would have put it that way.

“Did he? Wow… and you still went through with it. You must really love him!”

“Love him? Don’t be silly, I only met him a few hours before the ceremony… I hardly know him. But, no one has ever made me feel… so… special.”

Rose picked up a piece of meat and dipped it into the chutney, took a bite, then dipped the remaining piece and brought it to Marsha’s mouth, “So, who is the other Rose Branch and why am I now Sally Nugent?”

“Mmmm; well,” Marsha tried to say, chewing the present that she had just been given, then as she swallowed, was stopped again by a soft hand on her cheek, pushing back the lock of hair that had fallen across her face, “that’s complicated…

“So is this,” said Rose, pulling their heads together.

An Act of Faith
Penny was finally able to access the report; it indicated a hardening and partial blockage of the main artery to the heart and a tear in the heart muscle due to the cardiac arrest that this had provoked, the causes most likely for this condition were indicated to be stress, poor diet, smoking and or high blood pressure.

“Chris, stressed?” Fern was incredulous, “he is so laid back…

“Are you sure?” Penny asked, “I mean, you might get the impression that things are pretty ropey here between me and Phillip, but we have an understanding, his old contacts, former property developers, bankers, accountants, still have a bit of dosh stashed away, they are the people who I mainly sell to.”

“I see,” Fern looked sad, “I guess some things never change; we feel that the world has been turned upside down, but those at the top are still floating above the crap that is, in fact, just being churned around at the bottom.”

“Hey,” Penny insisted, “I was part of the crap once, and Phillip was heading down that way fast, but, together, we managed to build a little raft that seems to be keeping us afloat.”

Fern thought about this, as Penny called up the ‘Next Actions’ screen, perhaps that was it, deep inside Chris was scared, scared of sinking…

“Oh sweet saviours… we have a teeny bit of a problem,” Fern exclaimed when she had read the treatment plan.

“Why, what sort of problem…

“We need a miracle.”

“A what? Don’t be ridiculous…

“10,000 likes, inside 10 days, for prayers said in aid of Chris’ recovery; that constitutes a miracle.”

“That would need a fucking miracle…”

“Please, don’t swear in the presence of the almighty,” Penny looked daggers at Fern, “apologise…”

Fern looked totally horrified and though her mouth started moving, there were no words that she could summon that would actually come out, Penny leant towards her wide eyed, willing her to say something, anything, so long as was apologetic…

“I’m so sorry, I did not mean anything by it…”

“There, that wasn’t so hard was it,” Penny said, returning her attention to the treatment plan. Once she had read this all the way through, she confirmed her understanding of the terms and then a grid appeared on the big screen, marked out as a graph, The origin was a flashing dot, the x-axis counted out the ten days, with quarterly sub-divisions every 6 hours, the y-axis showed Chris’ current condition “Critical” and a diagonal line was drawn from that point towards the top right hand corner, where the Y-axis read “10,000 Full Recovery”, “he must not drop below that line for more than two quarters in any 24hours,” explained to Fern, “or the treatment will stop, the bots will be neutralised…”

Just then, a tone sounded and a bright bordered message block appeared over the graph, it read,

“Apology Accepted,
108 people like this”

The Last Days of Rose Branch
The kiss was tender, long and soft, but then, Rose could sense that Marsha was starting to try to move things on a little bit, her hand was progressing down the centre of Rose’s back, running over and then around each vertebrae, but on a one-way course, ever lower…

Rose, took the hand, as it reached the small of her back, even though the sensation was not at all unpleasant, quite the opposite in fact, she found herself, as usual, tensing and starting to panic; pulling away, she held Marsha’s hand firmly in both her hands, in the gap between them, “I need to know who I am… first,” she said, looking up into Marsha’s deep brown eyes, and then giving her another kiss, “Please?”

“You are still you, silly!” she said, “Only… the almighty thinks you are dead, well not you but someone called you… Oh dear, I said this was complicated, Steven would be better at this bit than me…”

“Rose Branch, the other Rose, I never met her, all I know is that she was one of us, from down in London, somewhere… anyway, we patched her bio-signs and mapped them onto yours, so for a few days, there were two Rose Branches, sharing the same space on the ONE. We had groomed you, I’m sorry, but there is no easy way to explain this, we had to set you up so that you were desperate enough to go on retreat, then, once there seemed to be a reasonable chance that you would… go through with it, we… knew that we would have to… have to… terminate… one of you…”

Rose could see that, the recounting of all this, was becoming immensely difficult for Marsha, “It’s alright, the saviour, I mean Steven, told me what you had done to me and why…

“Yes, well, stopping you getting any likes, is not quite in the same league as ending a life, anyway… she had agreed, she knew what was going to happen. So, just in case any of her body was found, we had to do something to her that would look, to a pathologist, like she had gone to BE with the almighty…

“You came down from Leighton Buzzard, right?” Rose nodded, “Just before you went up to the final three days of prayers, with the disciples on the top of the hill, she was brought up from London to Hertfordshire in the back of one of the hearses, sealed and modified to give her a sudden and massive dose of Hydrogen Sulphide at some point on the journey.”

“Hydrogen Sulphide, why that? … is it even dangerous?”

“If you get a lung full, it is,” Marsha said, “That’s it; you are gone… and at high concentrations, you don’t even smell it.”

“Smell it? What do you mean?”

“All of the faithful, every one of us, who has a PPS, or had any contact with the police, even for just a routine medical appointment, has been infected by a genetically enhanced, self-regulating and replicating nano-bot that clusters in the lungs and will, on command, synthesize a massive dose of Hydrogen Sulphide,” she clicked her fingers in Rose’s face, “thank you and goodnight. Anyone standing around you at the time will get a whiff of Hydrogen Sulphide, escaping from the victim’s mouth – it stinks of bad eggs – B…E…, that’s why we had egg sandwiches at the wake… I told you; programmers… total bunch of sickos!”

Constabulary Duty to be Done…
The officer sat at the table; what to do? Barbara, his wife of over 20years, was a good woman, ...no cook, ...not a looker, but, not really deserving of just being dumped at this time of her life. He got up and wandered, in his usual thinking circle, around the kitchen table, letting his hand run over the backs of the six chairs around it, four of which had been used less often than an SS Titanic life boat.

Suddenly he stopped, picked up the PH and sent her an email, with two kisses at the bottom, then walked out the door.
 

[nrt]

It's too difficult to keep posting stuff into here from Word - due to formatting and stuff, so I have created a pdf from the original and posted it into Dropbox - hopefully anyone interested can pick it up from there.

This is now complete up to the end of part two and includes a few bits from part three.



link to PDF of latest version...


I have looked at what a publisher would want from a manuscript, it must be complete, error free and bloody marvellous to have even the remotest chance of getting published.

Oh well.

[jeannerené]

Wow ... OK ... I need to catch up.

Nigel ... I just checked out the PDF link ... it looks great. I will catch up with reading asap. You are working very hard and I'm very impressed. I will continue to post my comments/thoughts in this thread.

I wish more folks could see/read what you are doing.

jeanne

[nrt]

Thanks Jeanne,

I had a great burst of creativity and this seems to feed off of that, somehow...

The last part is going to be the hardest, because I had an idea how it was going to end, and as I get closer to that, I am thinking more about the ending, than what I am writing, if that makes sense...

I have also had to go through pretty much every page, multiple times, picking up little things that don't quite agree with what follows - then there are the hundreds of typos...

[jeannerené]

If I notice any inconsistencies or any typos I will let you know.

[nrt]

Thanks that would be a help.

I fix them as I go and re-post the version to the link. I thought about version control, but I'll save that until it's finished, well I've gotten to the end, because, at the moment, there are so many little changes that keep presenting themselves...

So I have just one master copy in word and the PDF on a Dropbox...

Have a good weekend.

[nrt]

The version under the PDF link

link to PDF of latest version...

posted above, so you don't have to search for it again, is now only about three/four chapters from being complete

It has some strong and now some offensive language in it, only because that is the way I think the characters portrayed would talk.

It will get worse before it gets better...

On that point, a party that wants to take the UK out of the EU has just 'won' the election for putting members into the European Parliament, this week; there have been similar results in France and a Neo-Nazi has been elected in Germany - I haven't even finished the book and the ground work for the world it predicts is starting!

[rocha]

I've got some catching up to do...asap.

[rocha]

I'm up to speed and enjoying the writing very much. I have spotted a few sentences here and there in need of attention but they are unimportant at this stage. They main focus must be to press on while the wind is still at your back. Jeanne made a valid point regarding character description . I really can't get enough character profile so you may need to put some more meat on a few of the characters (later...when you have time)....you are very much on the right track. Great stuff.