A sombre, stunned expression was painted on John's face when I stepped forth the workshop's entryway the next morning. Silent he did not turn around to greet me while he sharpened freshly made charcoals. His latest artwork, an overview of Heavensgate at dawn from the shore commissioned by a rich businessman, stood rigid against the wall, as if waiting to be disposed of quickly, nonsensical and inert. He pinned new paper to his easel and started to sketch a sky full of birds by thin, light grey strokes that followed an undefined direction.
- Good morning Kim.
He turned back on me while he worked up his composition with a large shading tool.
- Excuses are useless.
- I'm deeply sorry! I should have asked for your permission before, I exclaimed as I battled in retreat, eyes low. Such artwork ... left unfinished, why?
- The story of my life truly begins the day I took under my wing a little birdie as apprentice even before the occurrence of the Gathering, John related while he painted fluffy clouds with a clean large brush. I was touched by his enthusiasm and his optimism. He kept moving forward although he knew the true meaning of life after losing too early his siblings in their boat's wreckage. As he grew up I could describe him as a foolhardy boy, already well tried by destiny, who wished to become a committed painter standing up for his beliefs to denounce openly harsh living conditions on the boats to Heavensgate.
His only presence made me smile and cheered up the old geezer in me like a warm ray of sun. He discovered he had a passion for surrealism as he learned art by my side. I was glad to teach him my knowledge about painting. He was genuinely talented at a young age and learned fast. We shared an almost filial relationship. However the rise to power of Pipelin Pantonium has changed everything. Not only it shattered people's hope for democracy. My apprentice was forced into collaborating with the government against his will if he wished to get known. It broke his wings and drove him into deep depression too early.
He sketched a guilty smile and handed a sketchbook and a bowl of charcoals over to me:
- Ungrateful brat better focus on the things most important to you before it is too late to enjoy life to the fullest enclosed in your workshop like in purgatory mourning about the past with bitter remorse. Now draw me what you see if you have what it takes to become a true artist!
What I saw...
A judgemental society. Humiliation. Determination.
At first the utensil swayed between my fingers. I tightened my grasp and started to draw curves and straight lines I shaded with a blending stump. A silhouette took shape under my strokes, leaned against a high wall made of stone behind the bars of a narrow prison cell. A thin window dispensed the only lighting. Twitchy my breath fastened. The man looked like the shadow of himself and the free bird he once were. Across the wall, were scribbled hurriedly the words "Never, Give, Up" like a final warning. From time to time, I took a few minutes to look back at my work. Once done, I refused myself to do a few touch ups. My technique was not perfect in many ways. I humbly admitted I had so much to learn. John studied my piece for a while with an artist's eye before he spoke:
- It's a rather conventional artwork above average judging by its execution, quite well done overall. It seems obvious that you're willing to put meaning before technique in your creations. You have yet to find your own style. I want to know what Kim Campy himself would think and do if he were in the shoes of this wounded man fighting for his beliefs arrested and thrown in jail for being a staunch political opponent to the regime. To feel the meaning of your picture I want to look at you standing up for democracy with all your might.
- I understand that you still have a long way to go.
- To become a known artist, and I guess you've been working hard for it until now, you should acquire self-confidence in your skills. You don't need someone else's permission to create. Take in account what other people think of your work. Whether your works are said to be good or bad, there is always room for improvement. Having talent is the cherry on top. You can have a lot of talent and a lot of imagination your experience gained by practice and your creativity will make the difference.
Days passed and slowly the world I used to know, yesterday Promised Land of the destitute, started to wither before my eyes. The city of all dreams had transformed into a terrifying dystopia where the strongest ruled as kings and the sheep were forced to submit. I found peace amidst the chaos as I studied art under John's protection for the time being. Sadly, I had no communication with the outside world other than the news broadcasted on Channel One. I learned that the war was raging inside the city's walls between the followers of the party and the remaining Dreamers. Some feared that it would give the start to a second civilian riot after the events of eighteen years ago whereas others stated that society was slowly changing. But forces were unequal.
"This incident has revealed to me that in the end we are condemned to live in a never-changing world. That's a really depressing thought to realise we haven't learnt from the mistakes of our ancestors. Us the young generation are supposed to build the future of humanity, but what kind of future will lead us on the path to a better world if we can't fully express ourselves in our careers?" My pencil tripped on the paper. Stupefied I looked up at the TV's screen. My heart skipped a beat when I recognised her. She was courageous to speak her mind in front of the camera. Her irises burned green, drilled on the journalist who interviewed her. Her golden mane shimmered in the light of the falling sun. I thought for a second she risked her life by disavowing publicly the regime so vehemently. To the reporter's question about her opinion of the Dreamers, she did not respond directly. She stared in the vague when she continued talking, her fingers clenched on the handle of her school bag: "Idealists who dwell with their utopian beliefs they are to me. If they had wings, they would roam the skies or burn it to the sun questing for another world. The truth is, a better world does not exist as long as there aren't people resolved to make it change. They might argue that citizens should not lose hope in the coming of happier times, or even launch the assault head-on against the party, their dreams will inevitably be crushed by the Black Crows' weaponry."
I had never felt so alone when I stood up from my seat. Even my friends did not acknowledge me as the one I truly was, or the one I wanted to become. Strangely Yoko's name came to my mind when I thought about these misunderstood artists who never got to walk in the light. I remembered her radiant smile on the camera, her effortless brush, her marvellous masterpieces of few strokes.
- Focus on your study; your lines look shaky where your pencil hits the paper with anxiety, John commented on my work. Newly born artists often lack of self-confidence, which they acquire with practice. Keep on training. Put aside your daily concerns for a while to concentrate on your subject. Without tenacity and consistency, you'll never get there.
- I can't, I whispered.
- There is only one way to improve Kim.
- I know.
Friday came surprisingly fast. I asked for permission to go visit my family. I had not seen my siblings in a while since the attack of Skyfall Hill on that fateful night one month ago.
The shop was closed shut when I took halt before the frontage. Plywood planks condemned the windows. Someone had sealed the door with a banner "Closing-down sale" printed in wide characters. I made the bells ring out for a handful of seconds. No one came. Worried, I tore the announcement apart and stuffed my keys in the lock. I entered in what used to be my family's antique boutique. The light bulbs flickered when I turned the meter on. Objects and artworks had been left untouched as if the owners had to run away in a hurry. I wondered what happened. Did the police interrogate them because of my deeds? Had the shop been searched in their absence? Did the tax authorities order the store's legal closure for an indefinite period of time? A cloud of dust sprouted out from the carpet when I stepped forward towards the stairs. A nasty smell of rotten food emanated from the kitchen. "They have been charged for gang trafficking of antique goods and illegal practice of trade. They left a while ago."
Startled, I turned around. An old woman in ragged clothes stood in the entryway. She wore a worn out shawl over a misshapen discoloured dress. Her whitish-brown hair was twisted in a loose braid. Rosetta Fisher: some loony bird living in the neighbourhood for as long as I could remember. She had an insane interest in everyone's activities around the vicinity. She spread gossips like the pox to whom would listen to her ramblings. One would tell her to go away and mind her own business. I needed her to tell me about latest affairs in the district. "Clueless what has happened of them ever since." We stared at each other in silence then she stepped forth the threshold:
- You better go, they will come back to investigate.
- Who? I asked curtly.
- Them, the birds of calamity.
My heart skipped a beat. Sooner or later, it would happen. Knowing Ludovic and Anceline at the hands of the Black Crows gave me the creeps. I shuddered, shaken by the news of their disappearance. "It's been a week already." Guiltiness stabbed me in the chest like a whetted knife to the sharpest. " That sicko acted strange all the while." Rosetta commented. "What do you mean by strangely acting?" I inquired. "Don't know, just my intuition." Her dilated pupils shot glance at me. She raised a finger to her mouth: "There is a secret she does not want anyone to know, her fighters, and even her incompetent idiot of husband. Buried deep down in the memories of sorrowful days." Despite her reputation of ever-unsatisfied busybody, Rosetta had surprisingly a quite good knowledge of human psychology from years of eavesdropping. One had to admit she was an acute judge of character. She was a nosy so and so but hit right on the spot sometimes. Her wobbling irises shined faintly in the weakening lights:
- You better go Kim.
I meditated about Rosetta's concerned words on my way back to the city heart. I wondered if I should take her advice at face value. My family was in danger by my fault. It questioned my commitment to my ideals. I had nowhere to go back to from now on. I had been stepping aside the outside world for too long without any mean of communication to understand what was going on. I was a survivor in the wilderness, left all alone in my wanders.
"Not at all, I said what these bastards wanted to hear." Her voice ripped through the silence of my reflections. Big Clock stroke 6pm. Going my way from the opposite direction Cassidy and Liam strolled down the boulevard their schoolbags hung to their shoulders. "Don't you think this would put you at risk because they might as well interpret your speech according to their vision of things?" We crossed paths without a look at each other. "No matter how they depict Dreamers as shameless criminals for showing opposition to the party, I can't help to think of them as normal people fighting for justice in an unfair world." A grumpy car driver honked vigorously at an imprudent teenager. From nearby rooftops an officer in duty spied on us, his riffle set on target upon Cassidy's neck. "Let's just avoid trouble..." His prey set on his weapon's line of sight, the military pulled the trigger. My heart sunk in my chest, my eyes widened in shock as five laser beams descended from the sky. I pulled myself together and propelled my legs forward, using my body as a shield to protect Cassidy's. The next time I knew, a striking pain radiated throughout my back. Frozen in shock bystanders were looking at the scene with a melt of anxiety and stupefaction, Liam too. I held tightly Cassidy against my chest, my arms wrapped around her breasts. The police would arrive soon in order to carry out further investigation. I was waiting for them. May they torment me or throw me in jail, I shall not give up ever again. "Let... me go" she whispered after a while. But I was not in condition to stand on my own. Her hand caressed lightly my neck: "Idiot... you should have spent your time studying harder..." Tears filled my eyes: "Sorry... for getting you involved..." She hanged on to me: "No need... to make up anymore." Her leaf-green pupils read through your mind like an open book: "You liar..."
- You severely injured yourself.
We stayed at Cassidy's room, a snug and comfy flat under the roofs, situated in a good deal student residence. A nasty smell of burnt flesh stained the air. Their long-shot weapons never missed their target. Only one of their high-volt bullets would have killed me in a blast.
-You got lucky, she remarked while she bandaged carefully my wounds.
Silent I looked down at the ground. I was dead meat already. They had for long set target upon my head. This dangerous game of hide and seek with the devil would cost my life eventually. Then, there was Petra whose ambiguous personality had stirred up my curiosity. She was known to accomplish her duty with steadiness, chasing after protesters ruthlessly. She had always been loyal to Ulk Tazer and the Ministry until now. Last year she had been promoted commander, accounted among the high-ranked officers of the party. Outside she appeared to be an opportunist, self-serving and naughty politician. However she had been constantly trying to spare my life, whenever I got in trouble with the Black Crows, since our first encounter. I felt attracted to her for some reason, deadly trapped in her web. To her I could not lie. Her steel irises ripped your mind open to seek for the truth.
- Why did you join the Dreamers?
Cassidy's question snapped me back to the present world. I should not have lost my way too far from reality. I figured that the mystery surrounding Petra's identity was meant and will always remain unanswered. My inner voice advised me to stay away from that woman for my own sake.
- Why do you ask?
- During our college years we shared good times and difficulties together. We learnt to accept each other's flaws, which sometimes led to misunderstandings and quarrels. We grew up side by side since we have gotten out of high school. We could have helped you going through this dilemma. We could have shouldered you when you needed most to be comforted. You turned back on us, your own friends. You used to think you could dwell with your various problems alone. What now?
- This is a burden I have to bear on my own Cassidy. I don't want you and Liam to sacrifice your lives and careers getting involved in the conflict. You both have potential to become talented artists. Me I am condemned to eternal wander from now on, runaway from my country of origin.
- I did tell you to stop investigating about Miss Sullivan's shady past, however you persevered in your desperate quest for justice. See, it has gotten you on the regime's wanted database.
- There is more than meets the eye about her, I am sure of it.
Liam closed shut his laptop and looked up at me:
- She is dangerous. Using numerous anonymous IPs I have managed to sneak in past the Eye of Power's control and found compromising information about that psychopath going by the name of Petra. Said files have obviously been classified state secret and shall not leak out. If the masses knew, it would cause a major civilian riot for the second time.
- Dissident politicians, intellectuals, artists of all scope of practice and other esteemed personalities otherwise known as Shadows are listed as first public targets, Cassidy added. Once they are trapped in the legal machinery, prosecuted for smaller or bigger cases of civil disobedience, they have no choice but to join the ranks of the Ministry to escape the hellish pits of jail, or even public execution. Petra Sullivan, or so she is called, has been one of these recruits forced into enrolling in exchange for acquittal.
Everyone assumed that the regime enforced their restrictive laws by using unorthodox methods. The informed knew that behind the scenes, Pipelin Pantonium and his followers were scheming to annihilate any opposition to their leadership on purpose to acquire full powers. Cassidy laid a hand over my shoulder: "We were worried for you after last week's events you know. On the news they said they were going to hunt down the remaining members of the Dreamers to the last man standing."
- This is none of your concern to worry about, I take responsibility for my decisions Cassidy.
She came closer to me and wrapped her arms around my chest. I could feel her heart pounding by irregular beats beneath her skin. Surprised, I backed off. She laid her forehead on my clavicle: "Moron, you freaked me out." Liam nodded. Cassidy held tightly my hands between her palms:
- We knew what was going on from the start. Rest assured, your secret has been well kept from the ears of Vladimir and his peers as long as possible. We did our best.
- The Safety Corporation, the Student Council and the Disciplinary Committee reunited in full court have deliberated and pronounced your dismissal in your absence. All disciplinary judgments are disclosed to the public and displayed on the school's boards two weeks after the trial. Taking part personally in any breakaway activism or being acquainted with one and more of its members is an aggravating circumstance in addition to other charges against the accused and will be reported to the proper judiciary authorities for further investigation, Liam enumerated.
- Yourselves would get in trouble too if Vladimir revealed to them that we are long-time friends.
- We have already considered this issue. Nonetheless, we are still willing to help you.
I made my way back to John's place by the nearest underground station. There were almost no nocturnal travellers waiting for their train back home at this time of the day. Few people to no one were used to the public underground network as their daily mean of transportation. Rare wanderers walked back and forth the railway with anxiety, plugged to their cell phones. Security agents guarded checkpoints and exit doors vigilantly, keeping an eye out for troublemakers under their helmets. A nippy breeze whipped my face when I came back to the surface just in time before 9pm. A group of policemen in patrol walked by, looked at me upon their shoulders and made their way towards a group of drunk idlers. Carefulness told me to continue walking but something did not feel right, I could not figure what. Maybe this puzzle of truths and liars missed its centrepiece. I took a shortcut by Noah Street to the workshop with the feeling life in Heavensgate went on seamlessly as monotonous as ever governed by a power-thirsty government of two-faced people. Dissident voices yearned to be heard. Policemen in black coats patrolled from 9pm to chase after late partiers. Society hanged on the fragile balance between chaos and prosperity. The masses dreaded another major disaster's coming like the fall of the ancient countries. Someone, I stated to myself. Someone had to speak the truth: a person who upheld genuine honesty, bravery and tolerance as essential values. Who would be able to endorse this mission?