"So here is the girl everyone has been talking about," Du Puteron leaned forward, resting his arms on the overbearing wooden desk. He wanted to make her feel at ease but nothing about his office spoke of relaxation. From the simple but sophisticated architecture of the building to the heavy antique furniture and on to the array of portraits whose eyes seemed to follow you. Worst of all was the view out of the bay windows behind Du Puteron's desk, it was glorious and highly distracting. Out over the town, out over the bay, out past two lush green islands sat on a deep blue sea. Kira stood stiffly as if she had rigor mortis, feeling out of place in her tatty grey jumpsuit. She stared through the windows, as much to avoid anyone's gaze as taking in the scenery.
Du Puteron notice, looking behind him then back to Kira. He rose from his desk, walked around and sat on one corner, perching there like a schoolteacher trying to be liked by the children. "It's beautiful, and this is a lovely place to live." He was not trying to goad her but could see that his words stung. "You will be happy here."
"HAPPY!" Kira screeched, "you drag me here as a slave and think I will be happy." She stepped forward, ready to swing for him.
"How dare you talk to our leader like that," Petric, one of a few who were stood around the edge of the room, went to intercept.
"Petric, leave it," came the command from his leader. "She has the right to shout, the right to distrust us." Those words were enough to quell Kira's anger slightly, either that or she lost her nerve a few steps from Du Puteron. The leader could not look her in the eye thus delivered his next line to the ground, "I am not proud of how we have treated you but it was necessary to hide our true motive."
"And what is that?" Kira spat.
Du Puteron looked up at her, "this is the revolution, we cannot have Princips finding out."
"To me you are just as bad as Princips."
"Then we have done our job well, but now the facade can be dropped. Welcome to your new home Kira," Du Puteron extended his hand, "I think you will find it just to your taste."
Kira looked at the proffered hand in disgust, "is this another one of your tricks?"
"No, no it is not. I understand it is hard to believe me, but in time you will. You will understand why we have to be so secretive."
"You're just one of those gangs my mother warned me about."
"We are not a gang, we are the revolution."
"Why does everyone keep saying that? I don't know what the revolution is."
"It is change, it is hope, it is putting the wrongs of the past right, it is removing Princips, liberating the slums and making everyone equal."
Far from inspiring, the comment seemed to infuriate Kira. "So the revolution is taking one person from the slums and putting them here to sit in the sun whilst the rest of their family die."
"Oh no, no, no, you've just seen the parts we live in. We will go to the slums and liberate them, we will go to Princips and destroy them, we will take our home back." It was a speech that would have been met with rapturous cheer on the front line, here only echoing around the walls, bouncing off the silence of those standing by.
Kira scoffed at the line, "you know they have guns."
"And so do we."
"Where?" It was sarcastic, joking at the lack of armaments she had seen.
"Underground, we have whole training areas; weapons and vehicles ready to go."
"Why not just show use them then, stop making people think they are slaves? Or maybe it is all just lies to keep me thinking I am doing something good but really am just your slave."
"What's up there?" Du Puteron pointed straight up.
"The roof?" Kira tried.
Du Puteron sighed, "above that."
"The sky?"
"Up again."
"There's nothing above the sky."
Du Puteron gave a little chuckle, "Princips, they really don't teach you anything. Don't want you prying you see. Above the sky is space, an area of cold blackness, those lights in the sky at night are not floating lanterns but burning balls of gas, millions of miles away. There are even other worlds like ours out there. But closer to home are things called satellites, they go round the Earth. Some do great things like letting us send information around the world using a computer, but others monitor us, taking pictures. From the sky we need to look like a peaceful island, if Princips took a picture and saw a military training ground they would destroy this island in a matter of minutes."
"You talk some rubbish."
"If only it were rubbish, the lies you have been fed are from Princips."
"Well, if you have this big...place...underground, then show me."
"I was hoping you would say that."
~
Kira shivered as the drop of water ran down her back, she felt it wind its way between goosebumps. The sensation added to the eeriness of this dark cold world. Du Puteron had said it used to be a hospital some two hundred years or so ago, created by the Germans during World War Two. Kira did not understand who the Germans were or what World War Two was. All she knew was that this underground space, hewn out of pure rock and smoothed over with concrete, appeared more like a morgue than a hospital. Small wall lights send undecipherable shadows across the dank passageways and the only sounds were their footsteps and the constant dripping of water seeping through bedrock and finding an escape through tiny cracks in the concrete. In open spaces odd bits of detritus were strewn; old beds, desks and chairs that appeared to be more rust than metal. Mould and dirt crept over these and spread into the tunnels like a plague escaping the confines of the rooms.
The whole scene was akin to a horror movie, yet still there were no sign of the weapons and vehicles Du Puteron had spoken of. After about ten minutes wondering through the maze of passageways, Kira could hold her tongue no more, "this looks amazing, are all these people part of the revolution too?"
Still Du Puteron did not get riled, laughing off the sarcastic comment, "we are not there yet. This hospital was created underground to stop enemy planes from seeing it, it is the perfect place to hide the revolution. But this here, this is history. I am not a heathen, I will not destroy this place."
"So why are we here?"
"You keep doubting me, that is good. In this world scepticism is your friend. Now follow me." They continued down a corridor for a few minutes until they came to a new pathway. Unlike the ones they had been in, this wore bare stone. They light brown shards stuck out in every direction, telling of the lack of equipment the builders had. At the far end of the passage stood three crudely created mannequins behind a black metal container overflowing with large chunks of rock. Du Puteron stopped, turning to Kira, "an unfinished tunnel."
"Great," Kira returned sarcastically, "and is that your army?"
Du Puteron laughed again, he loved her spite, the anger she felt inside, he could use that. "No, no. They've been there for as long as I have know of this place. It was an unfinished tunnel, so we finished it. Well, improved it more like. Look." Du Puteron left the relative safety of the completed tunnel and walked across the loose chippings and debris to where the figures stood, the crunching of bare stone echoing in the low light. Kira hesitated, but realising she had nowhere else to be, followed him. The master strode past the mannequins, stopping at the jagged end of the tunnel. He waited till Kira caught up before pushing his hand toward the dead end. Rather than stopping against the rock, his hand went straight through as if nothing was there. Had an onlooker walked past they would have been concerned there had been a rockfall and Du Puteron's arm was caught in it.
Without uttering a word, Kira stepped forward, her hand hovering in front of the rock face. She breathed in deeply, visibly swallowing before pushing her arm towards the rock. Like Du Puteron's, it slid seamlessly through. Kira looked across in awe, seeing a big grin painted across Du Puteron's face. With a nod, he turned and stepped through the rock, disappearing from sight.
Kira was alone, her arm half in this world, half in the realm that lay beyond. She had no choice but to follow him. She had doubted him, but so far had no evidence he was lying. Behind this wall was the truth though, and that scared her more than she could explain. In a few steps she would either be a slave or have a new life, a better life. Her thoughts turned to her mother, the gaunt figure appearing in her mind, struggling to sleep, struggling to get by. At least with Kira here she would have more food for herself. A tear ran down Kira's cheek. If there was a military base behind this wall, and what Du Puteron said about the revolution was true, they could go to her slum and free her mother. Her resolve strengthened, she told herself it was now her choice to step through.
Kira expected a flash, to be dizzy, her vision to distort before the other side came back into focus. Nothing happened, she stood one side of the wall one second, the other side the next. She did not know how long she had taken to decide but, as she appeared, Du Puteron said, "decided to come then."
The smirk returned, but was quickly removed as she observed her new surroundings. The jagged edges and dusty floor of the tunnel continued for a few metres before completely transforming. As if a border between two neighbouring countries, one poor whilst the other rich, the hallway turned into clinical sophistication, like a state-of-the-art hospital. Illuminated by bright strip lights, white walls stopped suddenly to produce a harsh line with the black floor. The ground shone, lights picking up flecks of silver on the polished surface. The corridor only stretched about five metres, but still pictures hung on either side. Photographs of historical events long since forgotten; a sailor kissing a woman in a white dress, a man stood in front of of four tanks, an astronaut on the moon with a reflection in his visor, a man swinging a metal club at a graffitied wall. At the end of the corridor, double doors of frosted glass, and next to this a tablet was mounted. Du Puteron did not wait any longer, striding with purpose toward the door. His hand hovered over the tablet before he turned, "no, come and place your hand here."
Was this the point that Kira realised she had made a mistake following him? She had so many choices, so many chances to run. Unlike before she was in too deep, she had come this far, she could not turn back not, not whilst any hope of rescuing her mother remained. Trying to look as if she was not scared, Kira gave another smirk and strode, in a similar manner to Du Puteron, to the tablet. Feeling it best not to dwell on what might happen, Kira moved her arm in a quick sweep placing her palm on the tablet's screen. A green line moved up and down to simulate it was scanning her. With a satisfying sccchhh, the doors slid open. The relief in Kira meant she did not wait for Du Puteron, instead stepping through the doorway and surveying the scene inside.
Huge was an understatement. The hanger behind the door was massive, everywhere Kira looked sat military vehicles. Cars, tanks, helicopters, all the latest technology. Despite the fascination, developments in hover technology and guns that fired electric charges rather than bullets had been slow. However, here they were, items you would only expect to see in one of Princips many hidden bases or Research and Development departments.
"This is amazing," Kira uttered, more to herself than anyone else.
"I know, let me show you around."
This base was more than just a hanger full of modern vehicles of war. Du Puteron showed her many rooms leading from this large space. They started in a set of rooms where people sat in front of screens, reading information and watching videos. Du Puteron explained they were learning real history, not the alternative version Princips peddled. They studied countries, kings and queens, war and peace; life before Princips doctored the Internet and murdered those who dared to claim their version of events were lies. Du Puteron explained they had managed to access some old websites and had even copied many of the books they had onto computers. Kira wondered about the book she had been given, where was it now? She did not remember taking it when she ran. She hoped he would not ask about it, even worse what she had learnt from its pages.
The next room contained a large table, on it appeared a map of the world. With sweeps of his arms Du Puteron made it grow from the table, he then zoomed into different areas and moved it around, finally pulling back to show the whole of the Earth rotating in front of them. Kira asked if she could see her slum, see her mother, but Du Puteron stated that it was only a model of the world and did not show images in real time. Whatever that meant. Before she could protest, he had lowered his arms and the Earth sunk back into the table.
Du Puteron called the room after VR training. Everyone there was oblivious to their presence, they wore headsets and gloves that seemed to glow. Each person stood on a circular pad with railings around it, when the user moved in any direction the pad reacted so, even though they walked or ran, they stayed in the same spot. Du Puteron explained the devices as a way of travelling to different places without moving. Some of the inhabitants were training for future battles whilst others relived history first hand. Du Puteron acted like a salesman, singing the equipments praises, gaining in height as he rushed his speech and gasped for air.
He was still talking when they walked into the firing range. In each booth, pulse and standard bullet weapons were being fired at various targets. Due to the noise they did not stay long, instead moving on to a set of interconnected dojos where resistance members practised hand to hand combat.
After this they skirted around stored rooms and toilets until they came to the end of a long grey lifeless corridor. "And here is the pièce de résistance," Du Puteron boasted. "A training room using hard holograms." Kira wrinkled her face in confusion. "A hologram, a 3D representation of an object in real life." Still Kira looked confused, "like the rockface we walked through." She nodded her understanding to him, "except that one is soft, you can walk right through it. This room produces hard projections. Ones you can feel, it takes a lot a power and needs projectors all around the room so there aren't many around." Kira tried to show she understood, but it was clear she did not. "Do you want a go?" Not knowing what she was letting herself in for, Kira nodded.
Du Puteron walked back to the door and pressed a tablet next to it. The doors slid closed, a buzzing sound appeared in front of Kira. As she stared someone appeared out of nowhere, dressed head to toe in black. Heavy boots that laced up to his shins, combat trousers, a fleece top over which a bulletproof vest sat, on his head a balaclava. She could only make out his eyes, but the look, along with his dress, spoke of menace. He raised something, something he held at his side. A gun, not small, some sort of rifle. Panic entered Kira's body, it was fight or flight. She did not know what came over her, maybe it was seeing this underground base, maybe that she now saw herself as part of the resistance. Stepping forward, she raised her knee into his groin. He crumpled with a deep groan, dropping his gun. Without hesitation she bent down and grabbed it, pointing the gun toward the kneeling body. She had never used one before, she hoped she would not have to now. She was just happy that she knew which way to point it.
The man looked up, raising his hands in submission. A deep laugh, it was not this man's but Kira dared not take her eyes off him to find out whose. She saw the look in his eyes, the fear. Kira considered putting the gun down, stretching out a hand and helping him up. As she tried to decide the correct course of action he faded away, as did the gun. In a matter of seconds it was as if neither had ever existed.
"Pretty cool isn't it."
Kira turned to Du Puteron, a smile playing across her face.
"So, do you believe in the resistance now?"
"When do we get started?" Kira replied, like a child who could not wait for Christmas.
Du Puteron gave his trademark chuckle. "All in good time my dear girl. There's plenty of planning to do first."