08-19-2018, 11:29 PM
Liaville, Aeluria
Esmee Douglas cradled her mug of coffee and shivered. She had battled through the storm to the Moles house, but the rain had seeped through her layers and the air was hot and humid to an almost unbearable extent. Alejandra Moles sat in the corner, staring out the window. Her husband Cornelio stood in the corner yelling in Spanish down the phone. Esmee deliberately didn't try and translate it. She didn't really want to know.
"After the war," he said in accented English as he slammed the phone down. "Always "˜after the war'." He sat down, dejected.
"Surely they can't keep fourteen-year-olds locked up for no reason?" Emsee asked, already knowing the answer. They'd had this conversation before.
"They say they are being kept in "˜protective custody' until the situation on the island changes."
"Why must you go through this again and again?" Alejandra said suddenly, spinning around to stare accusingly at her husband. "They will not change their minds. I bet it was that Laeralite boy. He was a bad influence."
"Nothing like a bit of xenophobia to solve a problem," Esmee said, her voice dripping in sarcasm. She'd always had a poor relationship with Carlito's mother. Alejandra was a traditionalist, and Esmee had brought up Fergie in a very... untraditional manner. The look Alejandra gave her now could have killed.
"Why are you always in my house?"
"Esmee is here because her daughter is in exactly the same situation as our son," Cornelio stated in a voice that implied it was not up for debate.
"Between her daughter and that Laeralite, it is no wonder Carlito is in this mess! Nunca debería haberle permitido ser amigo de ella."
The sudden switch to Spanish caught Esmee off guard and she missed what Alejandra said.
"Look, I think I should go..." Esmee began.
"No, you don't have to do that," said Cornelio.
"Yes, please do," said Alejandra.
"¿Mamá?" came Marcos' voice.
"Esmee, don't go anywhere. ¿Por qué estás siendo tan grosero?"
"¡Es su culpa que nuestro hijo haya desaparecido!"
"Eso es una tontería! Nunca te ha gustado Fergie."
"¿Mamá?"
"Listen, I think I should go..."
"¡Siempre te pones de su lado! ¿No me amas más?"
"¡Claro que te amo! ¡Eso no quiere decir que tengas razón!"
"¡Mamá!" yelled Marcos, his voice echoing above the din of the argument. "Look at the TV!" he switched to English and pointed at the screen the three adults had been ignoring.
On the TV, a news report showed some Lauchenoirian Navy ships moving. It took Esmee a few moments to notice the headline: "˜Aelurian blockade ends as peace beckons'. Alejandra reached over and turned up the volume.
"... in preparation for peace talks in Sanctaria. This will come as a great relief to the inhabitants of Aeluria, where supplies have been running low since the start of this month. While the Lauchenoirian government are still exercising some control over the comings and goings on the island, all will welcome the supplies headed to the island and the release of those in custody for unauthorised attempts to pass through the blockade."
Alejandra squealed in joy and hugged her husband and her younger son. Esmee breathed a sigh of relief and felt like a weight had been lifted off her. Alejandra broke from her hug and awkwardly offered her hand to Esmee. Esmee shook it.
"I am sorry," Alejandra said. It sounded slightly forced, but Esmee bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement regardless.
"Does this mean Carlito is coming home?" asked Marcos.
"Yes, my son, yes it does!" Alejandra beamed.
Chaher Residence
Yousef Chaher sat in his father's large country house, in his father's office, reading through his father's papers. His brother was away at the Aelurian blockade, playing at establishing peace, even though a few weeks earlier he'd remarked to Yousef that they should just "˜bomb the s*** out of Aeluria and be done with it'. His mother was with her sister, distraught over her husband's death.
The house felt oppressive to Yousef, which he found rather fitting. His grandparents had refused to set foot inside, even though they'd attended the private memorial service "“ after much begging on Yousef's part. They had refused point blank to attend the massive state funeral Charissa Clarke had insisted upon.
Yousef loathed Buttercity these days. His father and his allies had beefed up security in the city so much and arrested so many political dissidents that the city felt more like the home of a cult than the country's capital. Yousef had lived in the city in his teenage years, though had drifted apart from the friends he'd had there. He was dismayed to find a couple of them on a list of his father's political prisoners.
He had begun the arduous task of sifting through all his father's documents in an attempt to discover who had killed him. The task was made harder by his reluctance to enlist any help. He was too scared. He didn't know who to trust, and the fact that all the factions weren't blaming each other worried him. In fact, the official position of pretty much all the factions in the war was that the death was caused by Leanna Walker's bullet.
He understood the logic in taking this position. It made Clarke's government seem like they had done all they could to save him. It made the Resistance seem victorious, they had slain the monster who started the war. It meant all the various foreign armies could claim it was nothing to do with them. The problem was: it wasn't true.
Yousef mourned his father, but he wasn't quite sure if he mourned Suleman Chaher, Prime Minister. Nevertheless, he was determined to get to the bottom of the cause of death.
Kerlian-Occupied Usera
Olivia Quirós wished she'd never been born. Not in the sense of an angry teenager screaming it at their parents, but in the purest, true sense. She attached no emotion to the statement, she just acknowledged that her life would have been better if it had never been at all.
She felt no shame at her actions, not any more. What good would shame do, when nobody cared? She felt no fear at her situation, because if she had, the sheer amount of it would have killed her stone dead. She felt no hope, because she knew it was pointless. Olivia ate, slept and breathed, but in every way that counted, she was already dead.
A Kerlian walked past her cell and Olivia looked up. The Kerlian stopped and stared at her. She returned the gaze.
"Who are you again?" the Kerlian asked.
"Olivia Quirós," Olivia said.
"Oh, the one who kept switching side. They still not decided what to do with you?"
The Kerlian's accent was different from those of the officers Olivia had spoken to before. She had little experience of Kerlians, but she figured this one to be more working class than Major Littlewood.
"Apparently not."
"If it was up to me, I'd just shoot you and be done with it," the Kerlian said, her voice sounding like she was discussing no more than what to eat for dinner.
"Do it," Olivia said, echoing the Kerlian's tone.
"Can't," she shrugged.
"So that's that."
"That's that."
As the Kerlian left, she felt a small bit of pity for Olivia Quirós, who clearly no longer had any desire to live. As she left, she passed Littlewood.
"Well? How is the prisoner?" Littlewood asked.
"She no longer seems to care if she lives or dies."
"Well, we can't have that. Send her across the border, to the restricted region. No point in having her here, eating food and being useless."
Littlewood left, and the Kerlian walked around the corner to where a group of enlisted women were standing.
"Prep the transport!" she called to them. "Another one for beyond the gates of hell."
Kerlian Criminal Prison
If Josephine Alvarez ever got out of this alive, she was going to write a comparative guide to prison food. The food in Ginsap tasted of cardboard, the Kerlians' torture dungeon of vomit, and the Kerlians' normal prisons of rotting eggs. She'd never been a big fan of eggs.
A tall Kerlian slid into a seat across from Josephine.
"What you here for?" she said in a strong working-class Kerlian accent. The difference to how Jennifer spoke was so noticeable, Josephine wondered how Jennifer had ever fooled her into believing in Sonja Viratnen.
"Tried to assassinate your President," Josephine said, hoping that it would intimidate the woman somewhat. She'd learned quickly that most of the people in Kerlian criminal prisons were rather violent to those perceived as weak.
"Wait, you actually did that? Thought that was just an excuse to stick you in here with us lot instead of with the POWs."
"And why would they do that?"
"You're Jennifer Hale's wife, you should know."
Josephine groaned inwardly. She'd been hoping the other prisoners had no idea who she was.
"No, I'm not, your government says our marriage isn't valid."
The woman let loose a stream of laughter that echoed around the canteen.
"You foreign politicians, you're exactly like what the propaganda says! You twist anything and everything to suit your aims! Oh, this is hilarious!"
"Uh, huh."
"So, you know why you're here with us," the woman said.
"Because I tried to assasi..."
"Of course not! If a Kerlian tried to assassinate Joanna Greenwood she'd be in some torture chamber right now. I tell you, you're damn lucky you're here. Well, for now. And what is it with Lauchenoirian politicians-turned-assassins?"
"I don't..."
"First Leanna Walker and now you. What? You think we don't hear news here? Honey, your government loves their propaganda about us just as much as ours does about yours. But back to your reason for being here. You really don't know?"
"I don't really want..."
"So, a Lauchenoirian citizen tries to kill Joanna Greenwood, and ends up in this place instead of some hole in the ground. Why? Well, for starters, she's married to Jennifer Hale. And the Council needs Jennifer Hale. If her beloved was to vanish, Jennifer Hale might not be so cooperative. So, Josephine Alvarez has to be kept relatively okay."
"Look, can we not..."
"Kerlile has four kinds of prison. Criminal facilities, like this one, labour camps like the ones most of your pals from Usera will be in, "˜alternative education' facilities and then the ones we don't talk about. I believe you know what I mean. So, to keep our esteemed Councillor Hale happy, you can't vanish off into a hole or a labour camp. You're clearly not going to defect, and so logically you must end up here."
"I'm not going to..."
"And besides, they're going to try their hand at peace talks. And peace talks frequently end in an exchange of POWs. If you're not classed as a POW, then..." the woman raised her eyebrow to imply something terrible would happen.
"I don't want to listen to this."
"Of course you don't! You're a coward, like all Lauchenoirians."
"Goodbye."
"Aww, don't go!" the woman called after her as she scurried off to another table. "It's unusual I get to speak with someone of your position."
"Don't mind her," came a voice from behind a pillar. Josephine peered around it. A small Kerlian with a scar across her face stood there. The scar seemed fresh. "They're bribed by the guards to torment the politicals."
"Is that what I am?"
"We don't get many here, at least not ones that are known. Trisha, the woman who you just spoke with, used to be a shining example of Kerlian discipline... until she was caught kidnapping little boys from the government education camp to be her own personal slaves."
"Jesus, that's terrible!"
"It's even worse when you consider that the slavery thing played no part in the trial. It was solely about stealing government property."
The two women stood in silence for a moment. Josephine felt rather sick.
"Why are you here?" she asked eventually.
"So about ten years ago, my neighbour reported my husband to the authorities for anti-Kerlian activities. He'd taught our son that he was worth as much as our daughter. That was all. So, they came for him, and the kids. He ended up in a labour camp, I don't even know if he's still alive. I don't even know about the kids.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry."
"So about three years ago now, I'd almost got over it. You have to, here, or you end up in some such place yourself. And then I overheard the same neighbour discussing with her friend about how she'd "˜taken down' her "˜snotty neighbour a peg or two' seven years ago by having her husband sent to a labour camp. I just... lost it. I didn't mean for it to go so far, but by the end they were both dead."
The woman was shaking now, and Josephine was sorry she'd asked.
"I didn't even try and run, I was so shocked. I just sat there, and eventually the police arrived. They didn't make the connection with my husband, else I'd have ended up past the Gates. And so, I ended up here."
"Sorry, what are the "˜Gates'?"
"Gates of Hell. A pair of mountains that mark the start of the restricted region, an area populated entirely by female political prisoners and their guards. Referred to as "˜hell' by most Kerlians, even though the government has banned the term. It's one of the few laws they don't generally enforce. Has more mineral resources than the rest of the country, so they built a bunch of labour camps there. It's also where... interrogations take place."
"What about the male prisoners?"
"There's other labour camps."
"Is there anyone with a job in this country that's not in a labour camp?"
"Of course! There's tons of other jobs... police officer, labour camp guard, interrogator... um..." the woman pretended to forget. Josephine snorted with laughter.
"So, was... Trisha?" Josephine tried, the woman nodded. "Was Trisha right? Am I only here so the Kerlians can keep me longer and play games with Jennifer?"
"Look, I don't want to give that woman any credit, but..."
"... but she's probably right?"
"Yeah. Sorry."
Kerlian "˜Alternative Education' Camp
Leonie Bennett refused to eat. She sat at a table with Caroline. Helena and Myriam were on the other side of the room. Every so often, Helena would glance over at Leonie with a worried expression. The last signs that she'd once been human before they turned her into an obedient zombie drone.
Caroline, Leonie and some of the others from the "˜phase two' programme were staging a hunger strike. This was partly a political protest, and partly a direct result of what phase two entailed.
Two days earlier...
After being left in the room for about an hour, another Kerlian had come in, and taken her through another door into another, larger room. This had confused Leonie, which she supposed was the point. In the second room was another solitary chair, this one with a bunch of straps for wrists, ankles and a seatbelt. Leonie had stepped back from the chair.
Two Kerlians had grabbed her from behind at that point, and dragged her towards the chair. Natural human survival mechanisms had kicked in, and she's struggled against them, to no avail. They forced her into the chair, and strapped her in so tight she was worried there would not be enough oxygen getting to her hands and feet.
The two Kerlians who had forcibly moved her stood at either side, while a third one sat on a normal chair across from her and smiled a false smile.
"Leonie! How are you doing?" she said in a false friendly tone. Leonie chose not to answer. That was her first mistake. At the flick of a wrist from the woman, one of the guards sprayed a puff of water onto Leonie's face.
Oh, so the time for friendly "˜film clubs' has passed, she thought. A creeping fear began to fill her. She tried not to let it show.
"I will ask you once more, Leonie. How are you doing?"
"Not great," Leonie answered.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Perhaps we can work on that in these sessions? Tell me, Leonie, what do you like to do for fun?"
Leonie was rather confused by the Kerlian tactics. The question seemed relatively harmless, and pointless, but still she felt like she shouldn't answer it. The guard with the water had other ideas.
"Stop it! I don't know! I... I guess I read books?"
"Books, that's good," the woman wrote something down. "Any particular type of books?"
"Sci-fi, I guess," Leonie said warily.
"I'll see what we can find. Now, let's discuss targets. It is the wish of the Kerlian government that you grow to understand that we only want what is best for women, and that your government has taught you otherwise in order to keep you subversive to men."
"Yeah, this didn't work with the films and it's not going to work with..." Leonie trailed off as she realised she didn't quite know what the Kerlians were going to do.
"Not everyone learns visually. Some people require more active stimulation."
Okay, Leonie thought, that doesn't sound scary at all.
The woman signalled one of the guards again, and Leonie braced. No water came, and one of the guards unstrapped her wrists. She opened her eyes carefully. The woman stood in front of her with a stack of cards.
"On these cards are twelve different statements. Some of them are true and some are false. I want you to sort them into two piles. If you get them correct, you will earn a reward. If you do not do the task properly, you will be penalised."
Leonie took the cards hesitantly off the woman. Should she comply? If she did, then of course things would go much better for her. But at the same time, that was letting the Kerlians win. She deliberately dropped the cards on the floor and smirked at the woman. She sighed, the way a teacher would with a misbehaving pupil.
"I'm sorry you feel that way Ms Bennett," she said, gesturing to the guards. Leonie noticed how she's switched from using her first name.
The guards unstrapped her from the chair and dragged her over to yet another door. They shoved her inside and slammed the door behind her, locking it. She tried to take a step forward but crashed into the wall. The room was dark except for the light coming from under the door, and was small enough that Leonie couldn't turn around.
Don't panic, she thought, that's what they want.
She must have been inside for about ten minutes when they let her out. She gasped in relief, and then immediately felt ashamed of the weakness she'd shown.
"Shall we try this again?" the woman said.
This time, Leonie had complied. When she'd finished sorting statements such as "Kerlile is the only country in the IDU where women are not considered inferior to men" into a pile marked "˜true' and statements such as "women in Kivasek are granted the same rights as men" into a pile marked "˜false', the woman spoke again.
"Well done, Leonie. But I'm afraid since you didn't complete it first time, you can't have your reward."
The whole "˜session' lasted about six hours and was filled with such tasks as the "˜true or false' card sorting, repeating sentences such as "women in Lauchenoiria are oppressed" over and over again about fifty times, and learning the Kerlian national anthem.
At the end of the session, the woman offered Leonie a choice.
"For your meal tonight, you can have a choice of foods. If you vote in our poll."
Leonie's heart had leaped at the start of the sentence, but she was wary.
"What poll?"
"Every day, at the end of your session, you will be given a list of names of the other inmates. We would like you to vote on which one you believe is the most hostile to Kerlile."
Leonie's heart sank right back down.
"And what happens to the person who is voted for?"
"It would be a waste of time trying to integrate such a person into Kerlian society," the woman said, but the implication was clear. The person would probably vanish off into a labour camp or end up being shot in the head, the Kerlians favoured style of execution. "So, Leonie, will you cast a vote?"
"I will not," Leonie said.
"That's a great shame. Perhaps you will change your mind tomorrow."
The woman left, and Leonie was led back to the canteen. This time, when she stood in the queue for food, she was handed a bowl covered in foil with her name on it.
"Anyone caught sharing their food with others will be sent to solitary confinement for four days!" one of the guards yelled to the queue.
Nervously, she walked over to a table, closely followed by Caroline.
"How was your "˜session'?" Caroline asked. Neither of them had removed the foil.
"Neither a great nor glorious mission," Leonie responded, mocking the line in the Kerlian national anthem that spoke of their great, glorious mission for womankind.
"I don't think I reached that part," Caroline said. "I never even finished the true or false nonsense."
"Really? There was a lot more," Leonie cast her eyes to the ground, feeling kind of guilty that she hadn't refused for longer.
"Nah, don't feel bad, their little "˜punishments' kept getting worse. I don't blame you for not wanting more of that. So... shall we?" Caroline gestured at their food. The pair both removed the foil at once.
Leonie's heart sank at the same time as she wondered just where the Kerlians had found such a good psychological profile for her. She was averse to getting her face wet, scared of small spaces and had a visceral hatred of cabbage, which is all that filled her bowl.
Caroline stared at the bowl like it might eat her, then pushed it to the other side of the table.
"Nope!" she said. Leonie lent over to look. It was filled with chilli peppers. "I cannot tolerate spicy food. Is that cabbage?"
"The last time I ate cabbage I vomited for two hours straight. I loathe it."
"I think that was the point," Caroline said glumly. It was the first time Leonie had seen her "˜everything is going to be okay' act falter. If she hadn't been worried before, she was now.
Esmee Douglas cradled her mug of coffee and shivered. She had battled through the storm to the Moles house, but the rain had seeped through her layers and the air was hot and humid to an almost unbearable extent. Alejandra Moles sat in the corner, staring out the window. Her husband Cornelio stood in the corner yelling in Spanish down the phone. Esmee deliberately didn't try and translate it. She didn't really want to know.
"After the war," he said in accented English as he slammed the phone down. "Always "˜after the war'." He sat down, dejected.
"Surely they can't keep fourteen-year-olds locked up for no reason?" Emsee asked, already knowing the answer. They'd had this conversation before.
"They say they are being kept in "˜protective custody' until the situation on the island changes."
"Why must you go through this again and again?" Alejandra said suddenly, spinning around to stare accusingly at her husband. "They will not change their minds. I bet it was that Laeralite boy. He was a bad influence."
"Nothing like a bit of xenophobia to solve a problem," Esmee said, her voice dripping in sarcasm. She'd always had a poor relationship with Carlito's mother. Alejandra was a traditionalist, and Esmee had brought up Fergie in a very... untraditional manner. The look Alejandra gave her now could have killed.
"Why are you always in my house?"
"Esmee is here because her daughter is in exactly the same situation as our son," Cornelio stated in a voice that implied it was not up for debate.
"Between her daughter and that Laeralite, it is no wonder Carlito is in this mess! Nunca debería haberle permitido ser amigo de ella."
The sudden switch to Spanish caught Esmee off guard and she missed what Alejandra said.
"Look, I think I should go..." Esmee began.
"No, you don't have to do that," said Cornelio.
"Yes, please do," said Alejandra.
"¿Mamá?" came Marcos' voice.
"Esmee, don't go anywhere. ¿Por qué estás siendo tan grosero?"
"¡Es su culpa que nuestro hijo haya desaparecido!"
"Eso es una tontería! Nunca te ha gustado Fergie."
"¿Mamá?"
"Listen, I think I should go..."
"¡Siempre te pones de su lado! ¿No me amas más?"
"¡Claro que te amo! ¡Eso no quiere decir que tengas razón!"
"¡Mamá!" yelled Marcos, his voice echoing above the din of the argument. "Look at the TV!" he switched to English and pointed at the screen the three adults had been ignoring.
On the TV, a news report showed some Lauchenoirian Navy ships moving. It took Esmee a few moments to notice the headline: "˜Aelurian blockade ends as peace beckons'. Alejandra reached over and turned up the volume.
"... in preparation for peace talks in Sanctaria. This will come as a great relief to the inhabitants of Aeluria, where supplies have been running low since the start of this month. While the Lauchenoirian government are still exercising some control over the comings and goings on the island, all will welcome the supplies headed to the island and the release of those in custody for unauthorised attempts to pass through the blockade."
Alejandra squealed in joy and hugged her husband and her younger son. Esmee breathed a sigh of relief and felt like a weight had been lifted off her. Alejandra broke from her hug and awkwardly offered her hand to Esmee. Esmee shook it.
"I am sorry," Alejandra said. It sounded slightly forced, but Esmee bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement regardless.
"Does this mean Carlito is coming home?" asked Marcos.
"Yes, my son, yes it does!" Alejandra beamed.
Chaher Residence
Yousef Chaher sat in his father's large country house, in his father's office, reading through his father's papers. His brother was away at the Aelurian blockade, playing at establishing peace, even though a few weeks earlier he'd remarked to Yousef that they should just "˜bomb the s*** out of Aeluria and be done with it'. His mother was with her sister, distraught over her husband's death.
The house felt oppressive to Yousef, which he found rather fitting. His grandparents had refused to set foot inside, even though they'd attended the private memorial service "“ after much begging on Yousef's part. They had refused point blank to attend the massive state funeral Charissa Clarke had insisted upon.
Yousef loathed Buttercity these days. His father and his allies had beefed up security in the city so much and arrested so many political dissidents that the city felt more like the home of a cult than the country's capital. Yousef had lived in the city in his teenage years, though had drifted apart from the friends he'd had there. He was dismayed to find a couple of them on a list of his father's political prisoners.
He had begun the arduous task of sifting through all his father's documents in an attempt to discover who had killed him. The task was made harder by his reluctance to enlist any help. He was too scared. He didn't know who to trust, and the fact that all the factions weren't blaming each other worried him. In fact, the official position of pretty much all the factions in the war was that the death was caused by Leanna Walker's bullet.
He understood the logic in taking this position. It made Clarke's government seem like they had done all they could to save him. It made the Resistance seem victorious, they had slain the monster who started the war. It meant all the various foreign armies could claim it was nothing to do with them. The problem was: it wasn't true.
Yousef mourned his father, but he wasn't quite sure if he mourned Suleman Chaher, Prime Minister. Nevertheless, he was determined to get to the bottom of the cause of death.
Kerlian-Occupied Usera
Olivia Quirós wished she'd never been born. Not in the sense of an angry teenager screaming it at their parents, but in the purest, true sense. She attached no emotion to the statement, she just acknowledged that her life would have been better if it had never been at all.
She felt no shame at her actions, not any more. What good would shame do, when nobody cared? She felt no fear at her situation, because if she had, the sheer amount of it would have killed her stone dead. She felt no hope, because she knew it was pointless. Olivia ate, slept and breathed, but in every way that counted, she was already dead.
A Kerlian walked past her cell and Olivia looked up. The Kerlian stopped and stared at her. She returned the gaze.
"Who are you again?" the Kerlian asked.
"Olivia Quirós," Olivia said.
"Oh, the one who kept switching side. They still not decided what to do with you?"
The Kerlian's accent was different from those of the officers Olivia had spoken to before. She had little experience of Kerlians, but she figured this one to be more working class than Major Littlewood.
"Apparently not."
"If it was up to me, I'd just shoot you and be done with it," the Kerlian said, her voice sounding like she was discussing no more than what to eat for dinner.
"Do it," Olivia said, echoing the Kerlian's tone.
"Can't," she shrugged.
"So that's that."
"That's that."
As the Kerlian left, she felt a small bit of pity for Olivia Quirós, who clearly no longer had any desire to live. As she left, she passed Littlewood.
"Well? How is the prisoner?" Littlewood asked.
"She no longer seems to care if she lives or dies."
"Well, we can't have that. Send her across the border, to the restricted region. No point in having her here, eating food and being useless."
Littlewood left, and the Kerlian walked around the corner to where a group of enlisted women were standing.
"Prep the transport!" she called to them. "Another one for beyond the gates of hell."
Kerlian Criminal Prison
If Josephine Alvarez ever got out of this alive, she was going to write a comparative guide to prison food. The food in Ginsap tasted of cardboard, the Kerlians' torture dungeon of vomit, and the Kerlians' normal prisons of rotting eggs. She'd never been a big fan of eggs.
A tall Kerlian slid into a seat across from Josephine.
"What you here for?" she said in a strong working-class Kerlian accent. The difference to how Jennifer spoke was so noticeable, Josephine wondered how Jennifer had ever fooled her into believing in Sonja Viratnen.
"Tried to assassinate your President," Josephine said, hoping that it would intimidate the woman somewhat. She'd learned quickly that most of the people in Kerlian criminal prisons were rather violent to those perceived as weak.
"Wait, you actually did that? Thought that was just an excuse to stick you in here with us lot instead of with the POWs."
"And why would they do that?"
"You're Jennifer Hale's wife, you should know."
Josephine groaned inwardly. She'd been hoping the other prisoners had no idea who she was.
"No, I'm not, your government says our marriage isn't valid."
The woman let loose a stream of laughter that echoed around the canteen.
"You foreign politicians, you're exactly like what the propaganda says! You twist anything and everything to suit your aims! Oh, this is hilarious!"
"Uh, huh."
"So, you know why you're here with us," the woman said.
"Because I tried to assasi..."
"Of course not! If a Kerlian tried to assassinate Joanna Greenwood she'd be in some torture chamber right now. I tell you, you're damn lucky you're here. Well, for now. And what is it with Lauchenoirian politicians-turned-assassins?"
"I don't..."
"First Leanna Walker and now you. What? You think we don't hear news here? Honey, your government loves their propaganda about us just as much as ours does about yours. But back to your reason for being here. You really don't know?"
"I don't really want..."
"So, a Lauchenoirian citizen tries to kill Joanna Greenwood, and ends up in this place instead of some hole in the ground. Why? Well, for starters, she's married to Jennifer Hale. And the Council needs Jennifer Hale. If her beloved was to vanish, Jennifer Hale might not be so cooperative. So, Josephine Alvarez has to be kept relatively okay."
"Look, can we not..."
"Kerlile has four kinds of prison. Criminal facilities, like this one, labour camps like the ones most of your pals from Usera will be in, "˜alternative education' facilities and then the ones we don't talk about. I believe you know what I mean. So, to keep our esteemed Councillor Hale happy, you can't vanish off into a hole or a labour camp. You're clearly not going to defect, and so logically you must end up here."
"I'm not going to..."
"And besides, they're going to try their hand at peace talks. And peace talks frequently end in an exchange of POWs. If you're not classed as a POW, then..." the woman raised her eyebrow to imply something terrible would happen.
"I don't want to listen to this."
"Of course you don't! You're a coward, like all Lauchenoirians."
"Goodbye."
"Aww, don't go!" the woman called after her as she scurried off to another table. "It's unusual I get to speak with someone of your position."
"Don't mind her," came a voice from behind a pillar. Josephine peered around it. A small Kerlian with a scar across her face stood there. The scar seemed fresh. "They're bribed by the guards to torment the politicals."
"Is that what I am?"
"We don't get many here, at least not ones that are known. Trisha, the woman who you just spoke with, used to be a shining example of Kerlian discipline... until she was caught kidnapping little boys from the government education camp to be her own personal slaves."
"Jesus, that's terrible!"
"It's even worse when you consider that the slavery thing played no part in the trial. It was solely about stealing government property."
The two women stood in silence for a moment. Josephine felt rather sick.
"Why are you here?" she asked eventually.
"So about ten years ago, my neighbour reported my husband to the authorities for anti-Kerlian activities. He'd taught our son that he was worth as much as our daughter. That was all. So, they came for him, and the kids. He ended up in a labour camp, I don't even know if he's still alive. I don't even know about the kids.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry."
"So about three years ago now, I'd almost got over it. You have to, here, or you end up in some such place yourself. And then I overheard the same neighbour discussing with her friend about how she'd "˜taken down' her "˜snotty neighbour a peg or two' seven years ago by having her husband sent to a labour camp. I just... lost it. I didn't mean for it to go so far, but by the end they were both dead."
The woman was shaking now, and Josephine was sorry she'd asked.
"I didn't even try and run, I was so shocked. I just sat there, and eventually the police arrived. They didn't make the connection with my husband, else I'd have ended up past the Gates. And so, I ended up here."
"Sorry, what are the "˜Gates'?"
"Gates of Hell. A pair of mountains that mark the start of the restricted region, an area populated entirely by female political prisoners and their guards. Referred to as "˜hell' by most Kerlians, even though the government has banned the term. It's one of the few laws they don't generally enforce. Has more mineral resources than the rest of the country, so they built a bunch of labour camps there. It's also where... interrogations take place."
"What about the male prisoners?"
"There's other labour camps."
"Is there anyone with a job in this country that's not in a labour camp?"
"Of course! There's tons of other jobs... police officer, labour camp guard, interrogator... um..." the woman pretended to forget. Josephine snorted with laughter.
"So, was... Trisha?" Josephine tried, the woman nodded. "Was Trisha right? Am I only here so the Kerlians can keep me longer and play games with Jennifer?"
"Look, I don't want to give that woman any credit, but..."
"... but she's probably right?"
"Yeah. Sorry."
Kerlian "˜Alternative Education' Camp
Leonie Bennett refused to eat. She sat at a table with Caroline. Helena and Myriam were on the other side of the room. Every so often, Helena would glance over at Leonie with a worried expression. The last signs that she'd once been human before they turned her into an obedient zombie drone.
Caroline, Leonie and some of the others from the "˜phase two' programme were staging a hunger strike. This was partly a political protest, and partly a direct result of what phase two entailed.
Two days earlier...
After being left in the room for about an hour, another Kerlian had come in, and taken her through another door into another, larger room. This had confused Leonie, which she supposed was the point. In the second room was another solitary chair, this one with a bunch of straps for wrists, ankles and a seatbelt. Leonie had stepped back from the chair.
Two Kerlians had grabbed her from behind at that point, and dragged her towards the chair. Natural human survival mechanisms had kicked in, and she's struggled against them, to no avail. They forced her into the chair, and strapped her in so tight she was worried there would not be enough oxygen getting to her hands and feet.
The two Kerlians who had forcibly moved her stood at either side, while a third one sat on a normal chair across from her and smiled a false smile.
"Leonie! How are you doing?" she said in a false friendly tone. Leonie chose not to answer. That was her first mistake. At the flick of a wrist from the woman, one of the guards sprayed a puff of water onto Leonie's face.
Oh, so the time for friendly "˜film clubs' has passed, she thought. A creeping fear began to fill her. She tried not to let it show.
"I will ask you once more, Leonie. How are you doing?"
"Not great," Leonie answered.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Perhaps we can work on that in these sessions? Tell me, Leonie, what do you like to do for fun?"
Leonie was rather confused by the Kerlian tactics. The question seemed relatively harmless, and pointless, but still she felt like she shouldn't answer it. The guard with the water had other ideas.
"Stop it! I don't know! I... I guess I read books?"
"Books, that's good," the woman wrote something down. "Any particular type of books?"
"Sci-fi, I guess," Leonie said warily.
"I'll see what we can find. Now, let's discuss targets. It is the wish of the Kerlian government that you grow to understand that we only want what is best for women, and that your government has taught you otherwise in order to keep you subversive to men."
"Yeah, this didn't work with the films and it's not going to work with..." Leonie trailed off as she realised she didn't quite know what the Kerlians were going to do.
"Not everyone learns visually. Some people require more active stimulation."
Okay, Leonie thought, that doesn't sound scary at all.
The woman signalled one of the guards again, and Leonie braced. No water came, and one of the guards unstrapped her wrists. She opened her eyes carefully. The woman stood in front of her with a stack of cards.
"On these cards are twelve different statements. Some of them are true and some are false. I want you to sort them into two piles. If you get them correct, you will earn a reward. If you do not do the task properly, you will be penalised."
Leonie took the cards hesitantly off the woman. Should she comply? If she did, then of course things would go much better for her. But at the same time, that was letting the Kerlians win. She deliberately dropped the cards on the floor and smirked at the woman. She sighed, the way a teacher would with a misbehaving pupil.
"I'm sorry you feel that way Ms Bennett," she said, gesturing to the guards. Leonie noticed how she's switched from using her first name.
The guards unstrapped her from the chair and dragged her over to yet another door. They shoved her inside and slammed the door behind her, locking it. She tried to take a step forward but crashed into the wall. The room was dark except for the light coming from under the door, and was small enough that Leonie couldn't turn around.
Don't panic, she thought, that's what they want.
She must have been inside for about ten minutes when they let her out. She gasped in relief, and then immediately felt ashamed of the weakness she'd shown.
"Shall we try this again?" the woman said.
This time, Leonie had complied. When she'd finished sorting statements such as "Kerlile is the only country in the IDU where women are not considered inferior to men" into a pile marked "˜true' and statements such as "women in Kivasek are granted the same rights as men" into a pile marked "˜false', the woman spoke again.
"Well done, Leonie. But I'm afraid since you didn't complete it first time, you can't have your reward."
The whole "˜session' lasted about six hours and was filled with such tasks as the "˜true or false' card sorting, repeating sentences such as "women in Lauchenoiria are oppressed" over and over again about fifty times, and learning the Kerlian national anthem.
At the end of the session, the woman offered Leonie a choice.
"For your meal tonight, you can have a choice of foods. If you vote in our poll."
Leonie's heart had leaped at the start of the sentence, but she was wary.
"What poll?"
"Every day, at the end of your session, you will be given a list of names of the other inmates. We would like you to vote on which one you believe is the most hostile to Kerlile."
Leonie's heart sank right back down.
"And what happens to the person who is voted for?"
"It would be a waste of time trying to integrate such a person into Kerlian society," the woman said, but the implication was clear. The person would probably vanish off into a labour camp or end up being shot in the head, the Kerlians favoured style of execution. "So, Leonie, will you cast a vote?"
"I will not," Leonie said.
"That's a great shame. Perhaps you will change your mind tomorrow."
The woman left, and Leonie was led back to the canteen. This time, when she stood in the queue for food, she was handed a bowl covered in foil with her name on it.
"Anyone caught sharing their food with others will be sent to solitary confinement for four days!" one of the guards yelled to the queue.
Nervously, she walked over to a table, closely followed by Caroline.
"How was your "˜session'?" Caroline asked. Neither of them had removed the foil.
"Neither a great nor glorious mission," Leonie responded, mocking the line in the Kerlian national anthem that spoke of their great, glorious mission for womankind.
"I don't think I reached that part," Caroline said. "I never even finished the true or false nonsense."
"Really? There was a lot more," Leonie cast her eyes to the ground, feeling kind of guilty that she hadn't refused for longer.
"Nah, don't feel bad, their little "˜punishments' kept getting worse. I don't blame you for not wanting more of that. So... shall we?" Caroline gestured at their food. The pair both removed the foil at once.
Leonie's heart sank at the same time as she wondered just where the Kerlians had found such a good psychological profile for her. She was averse to getting her face wet, scared of small spaces and had a visceral hatred of cabbage, which is all that filled her bowl.
Caroline stared at the bowl like it might eat her, then pushed it to the other side of the table.
"Nope!" she said. Leonie lent over to look. It was filled with chilli peppers. "I cannot tolerate spicy food. Is that cabbage?"
"The last time I ate cabbage I vomited for two hours straight. I loathe it."
"I think that was the point," Caroline said glumly. It was the first time Leonie had seen her "˜everything is going to be okay' act falter. If she hadn't been worried before, she was now.
LIDUN President 2024 | she/her | Puppets: Kerlile, Glanainn, Yesteria, Zongongia, Zargothrax