Taking his cues, she did as he suggested. She lowered the microphone until it was near her mouth and said, “THE ONE FOR THE MANY…!
The crowd replied, “THE MANY FOR THE ONE!”
Her nervousness took over as she stood frozen behind the microphone.
One more time, Number One gave her a suggestion, “How happy are you to live here?”
“I am so happy to be a resident of The Collective. My life is truly blessed and I’m honored to give all I have to this great society.”
Everyone in the audience cheered.
“That is good, you may sit down,” Number One said motioning for her to leave.
She didn’t argue, she rushed off stage and took her seat.
“Residents, isn’t she wonderful?” he asked the crowd.
They responded with a loud cheer, “YES!”
“And did you know, she’s married to the legend, Driver Eight!” Number One said clapping.
The people around Portia all reached out with various forms of congratulations, some patting her back, others holding their hand out for her to take while some just wanted to touch her. This moment in the lime light was so odd for her, she had seen Kyle received praise but never thought she would, it made her feel very uncomfortable.
The Collective was built upon equality and abolishment of the individual but so often the opposite played out with people being singled out and given access to things others weren’t. It was proof that equality was a myth, if left to their own devices, human kind always reverts back to a default mode.
Number One quieted the raucous crowd, he lowered his head and paused, when he lifted it again, his expression had changed from jovial to anger. “My fellow residents, it’s that time. The time when we call out those around you who have violated our laws. These people, these individuals…”
Boos rang out.
“…these individuals, believe that the world I have given you is wrong. They wish to destroy it by implementing the ways of the destructive past, but we know what happened before. If we allow that sort of thought to take hold it will utterly destroy everything we have now and thrust us back to a dark age. These people would have you live like the Generates.”
Louder boos came from the audience followed by hisses.
“If you don’t believe what I have to say, listen and watch for yourself,” Number One said turning around and pointing to the large projection screen.
The screen came to life. On it were three people, two women and one man, sitting around a small dining table in what appeared to be someone’s house.
The man spoke first, “If I must listen to those damn sirens and those mind-numbing announcements one more time, I’ll die.”
Commotion broke out in the center of the forum. Screams and cries followed.
Portia looked back and saw a man wrestling with security. She looked closely and noticed it was the man in the video. Out of the corner of her eye she saw motion, she turned her head to get a better look and saw a woman racing up the far side aisle. Guards cornered and tasered her before she could go anywhere. Opposite that, another woman sobbed and moaned. That drew the attention of the guards who swept down and surrounded her. The culprits in the video were now apprehended.
Number One had the video paused and waited for them to be brought onto the stage. “Put them on their knees over there,” he said pointing to a spot a dozen feet from him. He looked back and said, “Continue.”
“I agree, sometimes I think those Generates have it better. To live free, being able to come and go. There’s something romantic about it,” one of the women said.
The other woman followed up, “Do you even think they exist?”
“The Generates?” the man asked.
“Yes,” the second woman said. “Or are they some sort of story to keep up afraid, to ensure we don’t leave the walls. Here’s something to think about, are these walls really here to protect us or keep us in?”
“I’ve never thought of it that way,” the first woman said.
“What’s wrong Simon?” the second woman said.
“Can I trust you?” he asked the two.
The two women looked at each other for a moment then turned to face him. “Sure,” the first woman said. “Yes, of course,” the second chimed in.
“I’ve been talking with The Underground, not like the entire group and it’s not like I’ve gone to any of their meetings, but I’ve had regular contact with one of their members.”
“Why would you risk your life?” the first woman asked.
“I can’t live like this anymore. I want to know what’s really going on. I don’t believe it’s as bad out there as they say. I think the drivers are liars. I feel more like a prisoner than a productive part of this bullshit so called collective,” he railed.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea you’re talking with those people, they’re terrorists ,” the first woman said.
“What did this person tell you?” the second woman asked.
“They need more people. For them to effect change they need a display, a big one, to show they’re a force to be reckoned with. Only then will One take notice. They wish to break free if he won’t,” the man said defiantly. He turned to the first woman and snapped, “And they’re not terrorists, they’re freedom fighters.”
“Are you going to help them?” the second woman asked.
“Yes.”
“Cut, stop, turn off the video, I don’t need to see anymore traitorous talk!” Number One hollered.
The screen went dark followed by boos and jeers from the crowd.
Number One stepped away from the podium and approached the three kneeling people. He looked down on their grieving faces. All were upset and knew what this meant. He looked out to the audience and asked, “What should we do with them?”
“Death!” Everyone shouted in unison.
Number One stepped in front of the man and asked, “What was it you said? I can’t live like this anymore?”
The man looked up and pleaded, “I didn’t mean it, I was, I was just talking, you know, bravado.”
“Bravado? Ha.”
“Please, Number One, I made a mistake, please show me some mercy,” he cried out.
“Me?” Number One asked laughing as he turned around to face the crowd. “He said, show me some mercy. Even in the darkest hour, he still clings to his selfish belief systems. I bet I could offer him a deal but in order to take the deal he’d have to allow the other two to die and he’d take it.” Number One turned back and asked, “What’s your name? Your birth name, give it to me.”
“Simon.”
“Simon, tell me. If I said I’d spare your life but these two had to die, what would you say?”
The woman to Simon’s right burst out, “Simon don’t make any deal with him, don’t do it. He’s a liar!”
Number One looked at the woman and laughed, “I’m the liar?” He focused his attention back on Simon and asked, “Well, Simon.”
Simon’s lips trembled and his eyes shifted back and forth. The conflict inside him was intense but his desire to stay alive was too much. “Yes. I will tell you what you want to know. I can be rehabilitated but these two? No. Spare my life and I will forever serve The Collective.”
Both of his accomplices cried out in anger and fear.
Number One smiled broadly. He turned around to face the crowd who now were on their feet, cheering for Number One to kill them. “Should I take the deal?”