[Lauchenoiria]

Robinson Residence, Cherrytree Province, Kerlile
21st July 2020

“It was indeed a boy,” confirmed Veronica Penners, the Aurora who sat on the armchair, relaxed and not remotely intimidated by the rank of her companions.

“You did the right thing by taking Alvarez’s job,” replied Councillor Carmen Robinson, pouring herself a glass of wine. She offered one to Veronica, who shook her head. “This Gabriel Fleming fellow sounds dangerous. He is the one who tortured your assignment-colleagues?”

“He is,” nodded the Aurora. “Xia is now safe and her son is a beautiful, healthy baby boy. Everything I’ve seen indicates she will return if and when the law is changed. Olivia Pierre, on the other hand…”

“Yes, that is concerning. I looked into it but there’s no sign of who it was. If I wanted to create a conspiracy theory about it, I would guess it was her mother, but I have Pauline watched just as she has me watched, and no sign of anything.”

“I don’t know who is behind this, but we need to talk,” Veronica said firmly, looking the Councillor in the eye in defiance of Kerlian cultural norms. “I can’t keep working for three different people at once. You, Alvarez, the Kerlian government officially… our aims might be in alignment right now but that won’t last forever.”

“You accepted one job from Alvarez in exchange for her allowing you to come and go despite knowing you are an Aurora, and you volunteered to help link the WOE lot with the Matriarchy in Xiomera. You’re hardly working for them in any official capacity.”

“If Councillor Pierre knew, she would have me executed.”

“If Councillor Pierre knew a lot of things, she would have a lot of people executed.”

“Alvarez despises Empress Yauhmi. Every time someone so much as mentions Xiomera in passing she visibly flinches. I mentioned one of my age-colleagues was a Xiomera-assigned and that I needed to work with her on something and she had me practically thrown out of her office. Apparently being a foreign spy is fine with her but talking to a Xiomeran is problematic. I don’t understand her.”

“Nobody understands Josephine Alvarez,” chuckled Robinson. “Apart from perhaps Jennifer Hale. I’ll look into what has Alvarez so spooked. You’re working with Rhona?”

“She goes by Nelichē now. And yes, we’re working on the Xiomeran affair. It’s a real pity that the Eirians still have Rita in prison, given we sort of have to work with them too on this matter. I don’t trust them.”

“Well, you have no reason to. We have a number of the former DKS members still there, though. Waiting until it’s safe enough to reveal they’re still alive.”

“Never, if they’re in Eiria,” said Veronica bitterly. “They hate Kerlians.”

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like a traditionalist,” teased Carmen, but there was a hint of worry in her voice. If one of her double-agent Auroras turned away from her it could cause no end of trouble to her family.

“Nelichē and I were discussing how easy it would be to break someone out of an Eirian prison, but she’s only in there until February and I doubt the conditions are that bad. It would be a lot of risk for comparatively little gain. But we then turned our attentions to Ranette who’ll spend a decade in prison in UNE, and…”

“Stop, Renee. Veronica. Whatever, I don’t want to know about your hare-brained plans to provoke the democracies. I can’t stop you doing whatever you want but if you go ahead with any of these I hope you make it very clear you were acting against orders.”

“Obviously,” Veronica rolled her eyes. “Look, all I’m saying is that this is getting difficult to juggle and it’s interfering with my sleep. Alvarez seems under the impression that I’ve basically defected to Lauchenoiria, Pierre is under the impression I work for her and her alone and… it’s too much.”

“Alvarez is aware you’re working on the Xiomeran conflict?”

“I didn’t tell her but she guessed. She knows what the WOE lot are up to, she just won’t admit it. I think she’s allowing it to happen under her nose because she can tell that her hatred of Yauhmi is personally motivated.”

“What makes you think she hates Yauhmi?”

“Nothing concrete,” shrugged the Aurora. “I get the impression. I’m trained to spot these things, as you know. Lauchenoiria can’t involve itself in a conflict but… I’m not sure. I think Alvarez thinks I’m choosing to work on it of my own free will and not because of orders, and I let her think that.”

“You did choose this of your own free will, I thought?”

“Well, yeah, but also I’m reporting back to someone and she thinks I’m not. I think she thinks I’m trying to protect other Auroras in Xiomera.”

“Why would she know there are other Auroras in Xiomera?”

“I don’t know.”

“For an Aurora, you don’t seem to know much,” the Councillor joked but quickly shut up when she saw how much the joke hurt the younger woman. “Sorry.”

“Councillor, I support your cause with regards to DKS, but I am doing this now – to be blunt – because I hope one day my friends from training and I, the closest thing to family I have, can settle down somewhere safely and not have to worry about this stuff again. Which can’t happen while there are so many conflicts in the world.”

“You want to be safe.”

“We all want to be safe. But also, we are starting to realise how messed up our childhoods were. The Council – yes, your Council – used us and abused us and forced us to risk our lives when we were fourteen.”

“The Aurora Programme was a tragedy, but we have ended it now.”

“Keep it that way. I like and respect you, Councillor Robinson, so I’m giving you this warning: the Auroras of Kerlile are angry and tired. We want safety, we want freedom… and we want justice. I think you’re aware of what can happen to anyone who stands in our way.”

There was a sharp note in Veronica’s tone that chilled Carmen to the bone. After delivering that message, Veronica stood and left without another word. Carmen put down her glass, shakily. She believed that Veronica was warning her, but it had sounded like a threat. It was a threat. If the Auroras were all working together, and they were angry at the Council… then Goddess help us all, she thought.

[Lauchenoiria]

The Fear of Death – Part 1

Unnamed prison where death row prisoners are kept, Kerlile
20th December 2020

Zichitla ran her fingers down her arm, reminding herself of the feel of her skin, the way it responded to touch, her body, her existence. She existed, for however brief a period, she was here and she was real. Soon, she would exist no longer. Despite her pleadings, her willingness to accept exile, her regrets, she’d been sentenced to death. It upset her greatly, left a bitter taste in her mouth. She’d trusted the Matriarchy and been let down.

She sighed and sat back down on the little cheap bed in her cell, all alone. This was a luxury for a prisoner in Kerlile, three years ago those on death row had been forced to sleep on the ground. That things had improved, no matter by how small an amount, brought no comfort to the former Aurora. All she could think about was how she’d had a chance to remain in Xiomera and live, and she’d chosen to come home and die. She’d chosen this, and now it was too late to turn back.

As a child, she’d had friends, in training. One of those was somewhere in Laeral, had disobeyed the order to return home and was now wanted by the Matriarchy. The other was sitting in a cell like hers in LOM, and if the rumours were correct, was being treated far worse than she was. It was ironic, Zichitla thought to herself, that she had been spared torture despite being the one in Kerlian prison. Yes, there’d been a few beatings, but that wasn’t proper torture in the mind of an Aurora.

All in all, she’d been treated perfectly well, by Kerlian standards. She had sufficient food, they’d actually arrested the woman who beat her, she was allowed to sleep, had been given a lawyer and was permitted visitors – not that she had anyone who would visit her. In the end, though, she had been denied the one thing she truly wanted: the chance to live. Her life would be over tomorrow, in the place where so many in Kerlile had met their end.

“You told us, when we returned to Kerlile, that we would be allowed to choose which name we called ourselves. Yet, I note my choice was not respected. I asked to be called Zichitla but I know you insist on calling me Nelly,” she said aloud. There was nobody there, but there was sure to be someone listening. Nobody responded.

“You lied to us,” she continued, to the walls, “and said we were safe here, that we wouldn’t be punished for our perceived failure. You took us as children and moulded us into weapons to serve your own purposes, stealing our lives, and you wonder why so many of us cannot adjust to what you consider normal afterwards. And now you will take my life, again, not as punishment but because you fear I am right.”

The silence continued. Zichitla sighed and lay down, staring at the ceiling. There was a stain there, perhaps the blood of some pre-reform unfortunate who’d been beaten in this very cell. Or a leak from above, given that the place was not very well-maintained. Nobody here was being beaten now, she would have recognised the sounds. But still the other prisoners would sob or scream in the night.

They’re traitors to the Matriarchy, she thought to herself. They deserve their fate, as you deserve yours. What were you thinking threatening a member of the Council? You should have known and accepted that your life was forfeit the moment you did that. Has Yauhmi’s mercy completely warped your perception of the world? The moment you were caught in Xiomera your life ended. This is just some extra time. Accept your fate.

Yet she couldn’t. She wouldn’t just lie down and die quietly for them. She’d been cooperative until now, never fighting back, allowing them to detain her, cart her from cell to cell and courtroom to prison. A good, loyal Kerlian who knows she deserves her punishment and accepts it stoically. What a load of nonsense. Zichitla had not betrayed the Matriarchy; the Matriarchy had betrayed her.

And she didn’t intend to die tomorrow.

[Lauchenoiria]

The Fear of Death – Part 2

Unnamed death row prison, Kerlile
21st December 2020

Zichitla was nervous. She hadn’t felt like this since they called her into the office back in Xiomera, before she heard Yauhmi’s offer, and thought she’d been about to face extensive torture in an ASI facility. She had her plan, but what if it failed? Zichitla did not want to die here, not today, not for this reason, not at these hands. They had stolen her childhood, they would not steal her existence.

“It’s time,” a voice said softly behind her. One of the prison guards, who’d taken a like to the Aurora and treated her well. Zichitla rose from where she’d eaten her last meal, and allowed the woman to restrain her arms behind her back. “I’m sorry,” she whispered in Zichitla’s ear. “You don’t deserve this.”

“Careful,” Zichitla murmured back. “They have not reformed to that extent.”

The woman did not reply, instead finishing her task, not nearly as tightly as regulations dictated – and not nearly tightly enough to stop an Aurora getting free. Zichitla knew the woman would regret her decision, and felt a moment of sadness about it. Stop it, she told herself. Remember your training. Compassion is weakness. She has made her choice to become weak.

The Aurora allowed herself to be led outside to the courtyard where the firing squads assembled. She was not the only prisoner there. A woman with uncountable scars, all old and partly faded, stood muttering to herself. Former Restricted Region prisoner, Zichitla guessed by the scars. Now the Council had shut down the RR, they were executing many of the prisoners who’d been expected to serve life there.

Next to the woman who’d survived the RR was an angry woman in her 30s, ranting angrily at the guards about how someone had deserved it. Probably an actual violent criminal, by Zichitla’s reckoning, given the demeanour and the words. The guards looked like they desperately wanted to beat the woman, but were constrained by the new laws. Finally, in tears, was a fourth, shaking in fear.

“What did you do?” Zichitla asked her softly. She jumped, looking at the guards, fearful of being punished for talking, the Aurora guessed. The guards didn’t pay them any attention.

“I… I was…” she started crying harder. Zichitla edged as close as she could before someone shot her a sharp glance.

“They don’t mind if we talk now, I know their procedure. They execute women in groups when they don’t want too much attention drawn to the individuals who are dying. The individual executions gain more attention. It’s a media strategy.”

The woman didn’t calm down at all, and Zichitla realised that Kerlian execution procedure wasn’t exactly the most comforting topic to someone about to be executed. She’d spent her life around intelligence agents; she wasn’t the best at talking to civilians.

“Hey… it won’t hurt,” she tried to soothe the woman. “It will be over quickly and then you won’t need to suffer any more.”

“I would rather go back to the RR than die today,” the woman whispered. “At least then I’d have hope.”

Hope. In the RR? Zichitla looked the woman up and down. She did not look like someone who had suffered that. In fact, she had no visible signs of ever being tortured. And not one single RR prisoner she’d met, current or former, had ever, ever expressed the ability to feel hope. There was something off, extremely off, about the woman who stood in front of her.

Someone grabbed Zichitla and dragged her forward, into a line. It was time, it seemed. The crying woman let out more sobs, the angry one threatened divine retaliation on the prison guards, and the one who’d been muttering to herself laughed joyfully, staring up at the sky, waiting to welcome death like an old friend. The former Aurora assessed them. They were not the team she’d have chosen for an escape attempt, but beggars can’t be choosers.

A government official had begun reading from a document, and the guard who’d been nice to Zichitla was about to restrain her in place. With regret, she moved quickly and kneed the guard in the face. She dropped with a shocked scream, clutching at her nose. The Aurora moved swiftly, catching keys from the guard as she fell, spinning and kicking the one nearest then running at speed towards the ones with the large guns.

Zichitla’s speed seemed unnatural, she moved on instinct instead of thought, and had five guards down before any of them could react. She’d also managed to free herself. Of the five down, at least two were dead and one further was unconscious. She could have killed them all, but something was holding her back. Without thinking, she grabbed the gun and shot multiple more guards, each bullet killing them dead.

The government official who had been reading screamed and cowered in the corner; Zichitla ignored her as she wasn’t a threat and hadn’t tried to run for help. She cleared the courtyard of guards who had begun to fight back, and freed her companions. Before she could instruct them what to do next, the first guard, the one who’d been nice to her, had got to her feet and drawn a knife. Zichitla had a gun to her head a second later. They made eye contact. Zichitla calm, collected, cold. The guard fearful.

“Drop the knife and help us, or die,” Zichitla told her softly. It was against her training; kill all enemies regardless of emotional attachments formed during your cover. But Zichitla wasn’t an Aurora any more. The guard dropped the knife and nodded, still afraid.

“North corridor, third door from the end. Keys,” Zichitla said, tossing a bundle to the angry woman. “Take guns, kill anyone you meet. When you get to the forest, run and don’t stop.”

“What… what are you going to do?” the angry woman asked her, still in disbelief.

“I have other business to attend to,” Zichitla said, then pushed the guard she’d turned towards the others, and scaled a wall to the roof of the prison. “Go now!” she yelled at them, then turned away without seeing if they’d obeyed her. Their lives were not her responsibility, she told herself.

The Aurora almost sauntered across the roof, snowflakes falling in her face as she walked. It hadn’t been snowing earlier. She knew her way; the blueprint of the facility was stamped into her mind along with many other blueprints. Her reasons for having this information were her own, insurance policies as a child against her trainers, her carers… her captors.

She dropped down to the ground, landing on her feet, and kicked the window in front of her, smashing the glass. The woman in the office in front of her stood up, and spun around, alarmed. Zichitla raised her gun, and shot the woman in the head, killing her instantly.

“That’s for what you did to Nikita,” she whispered to herself, memories running unbidden through her mind. A little girl, next to her, whispering about how scared she was, how she didn’t want to be an Aurora. The same girl, gone the next day, the screaming, the screaming, the screaming…

Zichitla swivelled and shot two guards who were about to point weapons at her, and stormed past their corpses, swiping a keycard from the belt of one as she passed. In that manner, the former Aurora left the prison through a side gate, leaving it open behind her for any opportunist who’d heard the commotion. She walked into the woods as she heard a faint explosion behind her; small, from a makeshift device few would be able to construct.

The former Aurora walked quickly but calmly, choosing her steps to minimise her trail, heading in the direction of the capital, Grapevale. The city where the Council resided, the city where the decisions were made, the city where Zichitla planned to get her revenge.

[Lauchenoiria]

Side Effects - Part 1

Greenwood Girls Primary School, Iletina Region, Kerlile
22nd December 2020

“Hey, Maximusian!” a gaggle of girls in identical school uniforms cornered Emily Keller against the fence which surrounded the playground of the girls’ school. Emily glanced around, looking for help.

“Is it true that boys and girls go to the same school in LOM?” one of the other girls asked, leaning against the fence to prevent Emily getting away.

“Yes,” Emily replied, eyes darting back and forth. The group giggled menacingly.

“That must be horrible,” a third girl said, leaning too close to Emily. “Do the boys hurt you at playtime then? Do they make you play what they want to play?”

“They… they mostly play football.”

“I wouldn’t want to be on the same team as boys,” the first girl scrunched up her nose. “They’d probably kick it in my face.”

“The girls don’t play with them; the boys don’t let them.”

“Don’t let them!?” the third girl gasped, hand to her mouth. “It’s true, then? There are things that girls aren’t allowed to do in LOM just because they’re girls?”

“Is that why you’re so bad at sport?” a fourth one sneered. “You’re not allowed? You just sit there learning how to please your husband like a good little future wife-slave?”

“That’s not…”

“You look uncomfortable, Maximusian. If you want to leave, push past us and go.”

“But pushing isn’t…”

“Ladylike?” sneered the third girl, who then pushed Emily against the fence, hard. “You just let people walk all over you, because you think men are better!”

“I…”

“Traitor!” the first girl declared, stepping back and pointing at Emily. “The Maximusian is a gender-traitor!”

“Gender-traitor!” another of them yelled, and across the playground various girls had stopped to stare. Emily cowered, covering her eyes, but one of the other girls pulled her arms away from her face as the rest pointed and yelled. Emily began to cry, and that just made them yell harder.

“Maybe we should call the police?” the second girl suggested. “Tell them there’s a gender-traitor here, she could do with some alt-ed.”

“I’ll do it,” the fourth one said, then brought out a mobile phone. Emily gasped and tried to run away but one of them was restraining her. She struggled desperately, sobbing and screaming for help.

“Hello? Yes, police please… yes, I’m at Greenwood Girls Primary, we found a gender-traitor, she says she wants to be a wife-slave and hates the Matriarchy, you need to come and lock her up before she spreads her patriarchal ways! We’ll leave her at the fence.”

The girl put down the phone and produced a skipping rope. The girls sniggered as they tied Emily Keller, sobbing and struggling to the fence. The bell rang for the end of lunch break and they ran back towards the building, leaving Emily alone, tears running down her cheeks. She was there for about 20 minutes before a teacher found her and untied her. No police came; the call had been fake.

*

The next day

Emily Keller tripped as the football came flying at her in an attempt to kick it, and wound up flat on her face. She cried out in pain as her arm hit the ground too hard. Above her, a girl groaned and called out to their teacher.

“The Maximusian has hurt herself again! Does she have to be on our team?”

Emily continued to sob, clutching her arm. Their teacher came over, and looked at her. Cowering, she peered up.

“Go sit on the bench,” the teacher said, no emotion in her voice. Emily hurried to her feet, and stumbled over to the benches at the side of the sports field. She didn’t dare disobey her teachers here, though they’d never hurt her. It was enough to know that they legally could.

Sitting already, a small girl from her class was reading a book. Amma, if she remembered correctly. The smaller girl never took part in sport, she had a limp and couldn’t see a thing without her glasses on. Amma never spoke to anyone unless asked a direct question. So, it was surprising when she offered Emily a biscuit out of a packet she’d been hiding behind her book. Shocked, and wary of a trap, Emily backed away.

“They’re not going to torture you,” Amma said, a hint of amusement mixed with pity in her voice. “That’s what they told you in LOM, right? That little Kerlians get tortured if we step a foot out of line. It’s nonsense.”

Emily didn’t reply, staring at the other girl in alarm. Amma sighed and put the book down, turning to face the girl.

“Is this because of what Miss Brookmyre did to me during that discussion? You’ve looked like you were about to vomit in fear every day since then.”

It was, but Emily was far too frightened to admit that. Moving to Kerlile had been hard enough, discovering her mother was an Aurora had been hard enough, that when she saw a teacher hit another pupil it had been the final straw. Corporal punishment was still legal in Kerlile, something that she hadn’t considered up until that point. Seeing it in the flesh, the violence of the Matriarchy she’d heard horror stories of in school, had terrified her.

“Emily, right? They won’t hurt you, not knowing who your mother is. You could probably stand up on a bench in the town square and yell about how much you hate the Council and avoid consequences. Besides, things aren’t nearly as bad as you think.”

“It looks pretty bad,” Emily replied softly, glancing at a scar on Amma’s arm that she feared the origin of.

“Huh? Oh, this!” Amma laughed. “Emily, nobody gave me the scar. I was in an accident when I was younger, a car accident, it’s why I can’t walk right. And before you ask, no, it wasn’t the government, it was a drunk driver. Just like you’d get anywhere.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” Emily said awkwardly.

“Life is life,” Amma shrugged. “And now I don’t have to do that,” she gestured at the sports field. “So, every cloud has a silver lining.”

“Why are you speaking to me? You never speak to anyone,” Emily asked bluntly.

“I don’t speak to anyone because they never say anything nice in return. The teachers all hate my mum and the other kids all think I’m weird. But you’ve never been mean to me, so I feel like I’m safe enough.”

“Why do they hate your mum?”

“She was in prison, for anti-matriarchal activity, before the pardons. Now she’s a member of the Reform Party and plans to run in the next parliament elections. The teachers here all did the old loyalty training so they think she’s a traitor. Last parents evening, Miss Brookmyre told her she should be executed.”

This was so far outside the experiences of a girl who’d grown up in LOM that Emily had absolutely no idea what to say in response.

“Miss Brookmyre is the worst. That’s why she hit me for saying the Council was corrupt. I was only saying the truth. The other kids say I’m not a proper Kerlian, but I’m more of a true Kerlian than they are. I’ve seen how they call you Maximusian all the time, they hate everyone who’s not just like them.”

“I am Maximusian!” Emily said indignantly.

“Oh really?” Amma leaned over, and pulled something out of Emily’s pocket, holding it up. “Emily Keller, Kerlian citizen.”

Emily snatched her ID card back, and stared at it. She flinched and stuffed it back.

“You don’t want to be Kerlian, do you?” Amma whispered softly. Emily hesitated, then shook her head. “You are, though. A Kerlian citizen. It’s not as bad as it seems.”

“I’m not good at being a Kerlian,” Emily said dully. “I’ll say the wrong thing and end up in one of your horrible prisons where everyone gets tortured.”

“You won’t,” Amma shook her head, then stood up with her walking stick. She began to walk away, gesturing for Emily to follow. After a glance at the teacher, on the other side of the field with her back to them, she decided to do so.

“Or maybe I’ll get shot when I try to cross the border,” Emily said.

“Look, Em, your mum’s an Aurora, right?” Amma said, not waiting for an answer. “Yeah, you’re not allowed to tell anyone that, okay, but everyone knows. They all hate my mum, but they’re scared of yours. She’s basically one step short of a Councillor, in their eyes, or maybe some kind of messenger of the Goddess from the afterlife… uh, I don’t know what religion you are, but you know what I mean.”

“I’m a Christian,” Emily replied. “I won’t be in school tomorrow, it’s Christmas Eve. It’s weird that school is still on.”

“Uh right, maybe don’t mention that as your reason for absence. Christianity is still illegal here.”

“What!?”

“Forget it. My point is, nobody will hurt you, or arrest you, because your mum is the most important person in this boring little town. You’re immune to everything. Well, most things. I imagine if you tried to stab a Councillor they’d cut off your finger or something, but…”

“My finger!?”

“But other than that, you’re fine! And anyways, the reformists are winning, look at the news, everything is going to be okay. You’re lucky, you might get to see Kerlile as it’s MEANT to be rather than what it is!”

“They cut off people’s fingers!?”

“You see, Kerlile wasn’t meant to be what it became. If you read the books, well, maybe not the actual ones as they’re for adults, but the kids’ versions, written by the founders of Kerlile you can see their actual vision. Not the censored ones, the real ones. It wasn’t meant to be a man-hating torture-loving warmongering land! It was meant to be about equality of the genders. But it became all corrupted and twisted. A true Kerlian supports the idea of Kerlile, rather than blindly following the Council.”

“I… don’t understand,” Emily frowned.

“Yes, it’s rather complicated. My reading level is far higher than my age would suggest, maybe you should start somewhere less… advanced. Basically, it’s going to be okay, because the reformists will win, and Kerlile will start being what it was meant to be.”

Emily looked around nervously, worried that secret police would jump out of the bushes and grab them both any second. It was then she noticed they’d walked far away from school grounds, towards the town.

“Amma!” she gasped, afraid.

“I’m going to prove to you that nothing terrible will happen to you just for breaking the rules,” Amma said confidently, continuing to walk on. Not wanting to be left alone, Emily hurried after her. “There, you see… that’s the boys’ school. You went to the same school as boys, didn’t you, back in LOM?”

“Yes, boys and girls went to school together,” Emily replied, uncertain what Amma was doing.

“Great, so you won’t freak out and run away as if they’re going to attack you.”

“Um…”

Amma ignored Emily’s confusion, and made a beeline for the boys’ school. When they arrived at the gates, Amma reached up and pulled one open, slipping in and gesturing for Emily to follow. Unsure and frightened, Emily did so.

“They’re meant to be locked but the lock was broken and nobody cares about this town enough to give the education department money to fix it,” Amma explained as she headed around the building to where a group of boys were playing.

Emily stopped and stared. The grounds of the boys’ school were tiny, barely enough room for the gathered children to play a single game. They had no play equipment, and there was a hole in the playground with some ragged tape over it. If it had been empty, she would have sworn it was abandoned and never used. The contrast with her own school here, though its budget was stretched too in this time of sanctions, was clear.

Amma took a tennis ball out of her pocket – where had she got that? – and threw it to a nearby boy, who bore a resemblance to her. He caught it and looked up, then his expression darkened and he hurried towards them. He was older than the pair.

“Amma?” he hissed. “You need to stop doing this, they’ll arrest you!”

“No, they won’t, the Council…”

“You put too much faith in Robinson,” he tutted. “Mum will be angry at you if she has to pick you up at the police station again. And you brought another into this mess!”

He glanced at Emily and she returned his stare, curious about a male Kerlian who seemed far more confident than she’d been led to believe.

“WHAT is going on here!?” a voice thundered and a woman exited the building. The boys all fell silent and stood in lines, eyes on the ground.

To be continued...

[Lauchenoiria]

Side Effects - Part 2

“WHAT is going on here!?” a voice thundered and a woman exited the building. The boys all fell silent and stood in lines, eyes on the ground.

Except for the one in front of the pair of girls, who turned to face her.

“My sister,” he pointed at Amma. “Again.”

“Amma Grant. Typical. And you are…?” the woman glared at Emily, who was half-hiding behind Amma.

“Um… my name is Emily Keller, ma’am,” she stammered.

“Foreigner, by the accent. Go back to your tour group, this is a dangerous place.”

“I’m not… I…” she took out her ID card and presented it where the woman could see.

“A Kerlian citizen with a foreign accent. Well, immigrants ought to learn that girls are not allowed on the premises of boys’ schools.”

“She’s Stephany Keller’s daughter,” Amma interjected. “The Aurora.”

“There’s no such thing as Auroras,” snapped the teacher. “And if there was, a good Kerlian would know not to mention them. I don’t rightly care who her mother is, a broken rule is a broken rule regardless of who you are. Inside, now! I’m calling the police.”

Emily, Amma and Amma’s brother were ushered inside by the angry teacher. Emily hesitated for a second, afraid, and the teacher responded by grabbing her arm hard, and pulling her along. She yelped in pain and tears came to her eyes. Amma took her hand and squeezed it, trying to reassure Emily. The trio were deposited inside a small room containing some uncomfortable chairs and the door slammed behind them. Emily heard a key turn.

“Amma…” she said, her voice shaking. “What are they going to do to us?”

“I’m sorry,” Amma grimaced. “I thought she’d hear your name, freak out and let you go. I was trying to prove you’re fine.”

“Amma, you need to stop dragging people into your mess,” her brother said, then he turned to Emily. “Hi, I’m Amma’s brother Chris. Don’t worry, they won’t do anything much to you if you’re new to Kerlile. She’s done this before, dragged people into her mess.”

“You seem less… frightened than the other boys,” Emily noted.

“My mum’s a dissident, they try to hurt me anyway regardless of how I act,” he shrugged. “Same as Amma. I’m guessing you’ve seen how the other girls treat her?”

Emily looked away. She had. But they treated her badly too.

“Did Amma tell you that you’re immune from everything?” Chris said as Amma glared at him. “She’s not wrong, but she’s not right either. When the police get here, they’ll give you a warning and if you ignore them too often it won’t matter who your mum is.”

“Are they going to arrest us?” Emily whispered.

“Maybe, probably,” Chris sighed. “But it’s not as bad as they tell you in other countries. They don’t torture everyone.”

“I heard they imprison kids here,” Emily shivered. “They lock up little two-year-old boys because they make eye contact with women.”

Amma began to laugh hysterically, and even Chris couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“Oh, Emily!” cried Amma. “You’re hilarious!”

“… they don’t actually do that then?” asked Emily.

“No, they don’t lock up two-year-olds,” chuckled Chris. “And it’s not a crime for a male to make eye contact with a woman, it’s just considered rude by some. As for locking up kids, do you mean the alt-ed centres? They’re not prisons, they’re like… boarding schools but with lots of propaganda.”

“But you’re not allowed to leave, so what’s the difference between those and prisons?” asked Emily.

“Kids aren’t meant to leave their school during the day regardless of which school they go to,” pointed out Chris. “What’s the difference between them and prisons?”

“Not much, in Kerlile,” Emily replied, rattling the locked door handle of the room they’d been left in to draw attention to it, then she looked Chris in the eyes.

“You… may have a point,” he blushed and looked away.

“Okay, so when the police get here,” Amma turned to Emily, “tell them I made you follow me and you didn’t know where we were going. It’ll make things better for you, and I’ll be in trouble whatever happens. I get in trouble even when I don’t do anything.”

“Because of your mum?” Emily asked. “That’s not right. Won’t they hurt you if I tell them that?”

“Maybe,” Amma shrugged. “I’m used to it now.”

“I’ll tell them I made you bring me here,” Emily replied. “You say they won’t do anything to me, but I don’t want them to hurt you either.”

“Don’t, Emily,” Chris shook his head. “If you tell them that in your accent, they’ll say it’s patriarchal influence. And then you will get sent to alt-ed.”

“Eek,” Emily shuddered. “Okay, no. But, Amma, I don’t want you to get hurt because of me!”

“Em, the last time my mum went to prison, they tried to have me sent to alt-ed but I was seven and girls can’t be sent there before eight. So, they lobbied the Council to change the law! They hate our family in this town, even if I hadn’t come here today, they’d have found some way to get me sooner or later.”

“You’re only seven?” Emily asked incredulously.

“No, I was seven then, I’m almost nine now.”

“But you’re over eight, then,” Emily pointed out.

“Yeah, they might lock me up this time,” Amma said, “but it can’t be worse than that school. I think I’d prefer it. Then I’d get normal rations, they keep refusing to give our family enough food.”

“You want to be sent to the brainwashing children’s prison because they’re trying to starve your family!? Amma, you’re just scaring me more with every word that comes out of your mouth!”

Before Amma could respond, the door was unlocked, and the angry teacher from earlier appeared, next to two police officers. Emily yelped and pushed herself against the wall, unable to get the association between Kerlian police and torture out of her head.

“Saffron Grant’s children, again. And an immigrant, Emily Keller,” the teacher informed the police. “Decided to wander around the boys’ playground.”

“I see,” one of the police officers said, glancing in at the three children. “What did they do to make you call us?”

“They were in the boys’ playground, girls!”

“Ma’am, you are aware the it is not against the law for girls to set foot in the grounds of the boys’ school?”

“Yes, it is!” the teacher yelled. “It has always been.”

“Ma’am,” the second police officer said, “that is incorrect. It is a custom, not a law. We cannot arrest children for breaching societal customs.”

“These children,” the angry teacher spat, “are attempting to subvert the authority of the Matriarchy! If left unchecked, they will destroy the very fabric of our society. They will become traitors, and they will die by the firing squad. It is for their own good that you must detain them now!”

At the mention of a firing squad, Emily had buried her head in Amma’s shoulder, shaking in fear. Both Amma and Chris had their arms around her, trying to comfort her, whispering reassurances.

“Ma’am,” the first police officer said, sounding frustrated, “we cannot arrest people who have not committed a crime.”

“Since when?” the teacher shouted. The two police officers glanced at each other.

“Ma’am, we will be leaving now, we will return the two girls to their school, and…”

“No!” the teacher hissed, glaring at the officers. “If you won’t punish them, I will. They can stay in there until the end of the day without lunch.”

Emily flinched. Amma whispered reassurances once more.

“Ma’am, you cannot lock children up for no reason,” the second officer sighed.

“This is my school, and I can do what I want!”

With that, the teacher attempted to slam the door back on the three children, but one of the police officers caught it and looked in, addressing the kids.

“Are you three all right? She’s not allowed to lock you in here, we’ll take you home, don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble.”

“Yes, they damn well are, and I am entitled to…” the teacher began to shout, but was interrupted by the second officer.

“Ma’am, you are under arrest for the false imprisonment of minors, you…”

“What!?” she yelled. “This is an outrage, I…”
The teacher and the two police officers began shouting over each other, and Emily untangled herself from the two Grant siblings. She looked at them both, one after the other, staring in disbelief.

“Did the Kerlian police actually just refuse to give us into trouble?”

“See, I told you, things aren’t nearly as bad here as they tell you in the patriarchal countries,” grinned Amma.

[Lauchenoiria]

The Flight Before Christmas

Grapevale Airport, Kerlile
27th November 1960

“We are experiencing delays on all outgoing flights. Please remain inside the airport for security reasons. Further information will be available in due course.”

The announcement played yet again. It had been three hours, and nothing had changed. Aamina Najjar stroked her daughter Farah’s head and leaned on her husband Matt’s shoulder, trying to calm her breathing. Farah was asleep, she was only two years old and was the reason they were taking this risk.

Aamina had been the daughter of a Serrielan immigrant to Kerlile, a woman who’d been seeking equality. Aamina, on the contrary, found the Matriarchy a rather oppressive place to live. So, she was taking her family back to Serriel. Her husband’s family was native to this area, but he seemed exceptionally keen to get out of the country, so there’d been no argument. She had three sisters who could stay to care for their mother.

The flight had been booked for months, and nobody had said anything. They’d packed and planned, said goodbye to their friends and family members and made it to the airport on time, ready to set out and seek a new life. Yet about half an hour after arriving at the airport, the notices about delays had started and nobody was being allowed to leave. Aamina had no idea what was going on, but it scared her.

“This is a customer announcement. All foreign nationals are asked to make their way to Terminal 4 immediately. Repeat, that’s all foreign nationals to make their way to Terminal 4 immediately.”

“You still have a Serrielan passport, hm?” Matt said to her softly.

“Um, yes,” Aamina looked down at the passport she was clutching hard to her chest. “But you don’t, and neither does Farah.”

“Go find out what’s going on,” he nudged her gently. “We can wait here.”

“But…”

“Go. It might be the only way we can get any information.”

Reluctantly, Aamina kissed Farah on the forehead and Matt on his cheek, whispering I love you in his ear. Then she reluctantly wove through the crowds following the signs for Terminal 4. When she arrived, a small crowd was gathered, chattering amongst themselves in a multitude of languages. A woman asked her for her ID, and she showed the passport.

“Wait here please, Ms Najjar,” the airport employee said.

“Can you tell me what’s going on? I’ve a husband and child who are Kerlian citizens, I don’t want to be separated from them. Farah, my daughter, she’s only two!”

“I see,” the woman frowned. “You are not a Kerlian citizen yourself?”

“I…” Aamina hesitated, noticing something in the woman’s eyes that frightened her. “No, I never filled out the paperwork.”

“What was your intended destination?”

“Serriel,” she replied, concerned by the use of past tense.

“All three of you? Vacation or immigration?”

“The latter,” Aamina said, feeling a panic rising within her.

“Unfortunately, that won’t be possible. The Council has temporarily forbidden the travel of Kerlian citizens outside of the Matriarchy for security reasons. All foreign citizens are also required to leave immediately.”

“But you can’t do that!” she cried out, loudly, causing much of the crowd to turn to her. “My baby’s a Kerlian citizen, you can’t just… I need to stay with her!”

“That will not be possible, Ms Najjar,” the woman said firmly, and two more behind her, holding large weapons, turned to face her.

“No,” Aamina said, then began to walk back over to where she’d left Matt and Farah, but someone grabbed her arm.

“All foreign nationals must leave Kerlile,” the woman repeated.

“I’ll… I’ll take Kerlian citizenship! I want to stay with my daughter!”

“It’s too late for that. Citizenship applications have closed. You must leave now.”

“No…” she began to struggle, desperate to get back to her family, but she was restrained, dragged further away towards a waiting aircraft, screaming and crying as they separated her from her family forever.

*

Hazelton, Primrose Region, Kerlile
23rd November 2020

Yasmin Najjar downed another shot of vodka as she lay on her friend Kate’s couch. After her university course had been cancelled thanks to the traitors that called themselves “reformists”, she’d moved in with Kate rather than go back to living in the government-provided accommodation for those not in work or study. She hated those places, they’d lived in them far too often when she was growing up.

“Ah, Yasmin, where do you get that?” Sofia, Kate’s flatmate said as she entered the kitchen, putting down a couple bags of food and tossing the three ration cards onto the counter. “They’ve not been selling alcohol for several weeks now.”

“Stockpile,” Yasmin replied absentmindedly, downing another shot. She liked to remain in a state of constant tipsiness, lest she be forced to think about the deterioration and impending destruction of the country she loved.

“Goddess, you stockpiled that much?” Sofia said, putting away the meagre amount of food she’d collected for the three of them. “Have you considered applying for a different course, or a job?”

“Leave me be,” Yasmin groaned. “I’ll join the military once we know which divisions will take what side.”

“There’s not going to be a civil war,” Sofia shook her head. “And if there was, you traditionalists would likely lose. You need a better life plan than dying in a futile conflict to preserve a dying regime.”

“Traitor,” hissed Yasmin, and she tried to stand up to face the filthy reformist woman but fell down. Perhaps she was more than a little tipsy.

“Goddess, Yasmin,” Sofia grimaced, and helped her back onto the couch. “This isn’t healthy, you need help. Do you want me to try and contact your mother again?”

“She’s… busy with the church,” Yasmin coughed a little, her throat was dry from the alcohol. Sofia poured her a glass of water and handed her it. She took it, despite her dislike of the weak little reformist. “The anti-patriarchy fightback.”

“The extremist church groups, yes. Farah Najjar, yes? I’ll look her up on the contact database. Any other family?”

“No, grandfather was executed, grandmother traitor… she left to go back to Serriel and be a slave to men. Refused to take Kerlian citizenship to stay with Mum.”

“Yasmin? Yasmin, stay with me… Goddess, how much have you drunk!?”

Yasmin slipped down onto the floor once more, unable to keep herself up, no longer really aware of what Sofia was saying to her. She thought of her poor mother, who’d been abandoned by her own mother as a toddler, a mother who cared more about being able to swan around the patriarchal countries than stay with her. A traitor, a self-misogynist, a woman with no ambitions… not like Yasmin. Yasmin had ambitions. And they’d been destroyed.

“Yasmin Najjar?” a voice said, from far away. “Yasmin? We should take her to the hospital, just as a precaution…”

“No, I’m fine,” Yasmin sat up, staring blearily at what appeared to be a pair of paramedics. They were trailed by a man, a trainee on one of the new male employment programmes. Yasmin turned away in disgust. “I just need to… get to bed…”

“She can sleep in my room tonight,” Kate said. When had she arrived back?

Yasmin was guided to Kate’s room and lay down on the bed. Kate entered, and pulled the blankets up over Yasmin, and kissed her gently on the forehead, as her mother used to do, then stroked her hair and switched the light off on the way out.

*

25th November 2020

“Remember two years ago, those Christians?” Kate laughed, pouring more water for Yasmin as they sat eating dinner. Kate and Sofia had confiscated her alcohol stash. “I bet they released them all now, funny how things change?”

“Weaklings,” Yasmin muttered under her breath.

“Indeed,” Sofia nodded to Kate. “Why, two years ago, nobody would have dared refer to the Council as ‘weaklings’!”

Kate and Sofia laughed as they ate their small dinner. There was enough, but hardly more than that, with the strictness of the rationing. Yasmin grumbled and looked away. Yesterday, they’d both tried to suggest new courses to her, but she didn’t want to listen. Kate herself was taking this well, her own course had changed rapidly. Kate was loyal to the Council, of course. Yasmin, though… Yasmin was loyal to the idea.

“The Council are the guides and protectors of the Matriarchy project,” Yasmin interrupted the laughter with a scowl. “At least, they’re supposed to be. Now they seem to be allowing a darkness to swallow our nation.”

“A darkness!” Sofia laughed. “Must you be so dramatic? We’re changing with the times, aren’t we Kate? And about time too, what happened two years ago was disgusting.”

“A bit too much, sure,” Kate admitted. “The boy they shot… they shouldn’t have done that. But they were just following their orders.”

“Not an excuse,” Sofia shook her head. “They should be prosecuted for murder.”

“Traitor,” Yasmin said to Sofia but without malice in her tone. “We will certainly be on different sides of the coming civil war.”

“There’s not going to be a civil war!” exclaimed Kate. “If things were that bad, you two wouldn’t be able to sit around a table together. No, people disagree, sure, but… I imagine this is what it’s like in the democracies. People support different political parties and whatnot. It’s interesting.”

“I suppose we’ll find out,” Yasmin grumbled. “Given that Democracy Bill the Council are going to pass. I wonder which of them sold out.”

“Which Women’s Party Councillor decided to suddenly support reform, you mean?” Sofia laughed at Yasmin’s word choice. “I don’t know… it’s interesting! My money’s on Chiu, we know she supported the EUCDA amendment and they were discussed together.”

“But Hart was against EUCDA, someone else must’ve voted with Chiu and the reformists,” argued Kate.

Suddenly, the political discussion – unthinkable only two years earlier – was interrupted by the ringing of the landline, causing all three to jump. Kerlian residences had compulsory landlines, but they weren’t often used, apart from to contact government services. After office hours on a Friday, it was unlikely they’d get a call. The trio looked at each other, then Sofia picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

Yasmin watched as Sofia’s eyes became increasingly wide, and the phone slipped from her grasp. It was an older model, still attached with a cable, and it swung near the phone as Sofia stepped backwards and slipped down the wall until she was seated on the ground.

“Um… Yasmin… it’s for you…”

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” Yasmin remarked. “Who is it?”

“Your… um… your grandmother. Calling from… um… from Serriel.”

“What!?” Kate and Yasmin said in unison. They looked at each other.

“Is that legal now?” Yasmin asked. “Calls from abroad?”

“Since November,” Sofia said, still pale and staring at the wall from where she’d half-collapsed.

Yasmin crept forward and gently took the phone, bringing it to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Yasmin? Hi! Your mother gave me this number, I’ve always wanted to speak to you and now we can!” the woman on the end of the phone said, her voice full of joy.

“You are… Aamina? My grandmother?”

“I am! It’s so wonderful to hear your voice! Your mother and I had a wonderful talk last week. I’ve missed her so, so much. She told me all about you, about how I have a granddaughter! I’m so happy! Maybe I can come and visit once the visa paperwork gets sorted?”

“Why in the name of the Goddess would you do that?” Yasmin snapped. “You abandoned my mother to go and become some man’s slave! You abandoned the women’s revolution for a patriarchal land thousands of miles away! Why the hell would we want to see you?”

“That’s not true, Yasmin,” soothed her grandmother through the phone. “I didn’t abandon your mother, that’s only what she was told. I wanted to stay, but I was deported. I tried to get back to her, but… she’d been taken into state care, and Matt had been executed, and they called me a traitor. I wanted to be there for your mother, please believe me.”

“No, you refused to take Kerlian citizenship and stay!”

“I tried, they refused to give it to me,” Aamina said sadly. “And then they stopped giving me information on Farah – on your mother – and I had to give up. I remarried, I made a new family, but I never forgot your mother.”

“But they wouldn’t deport a woman who wants to stay! They wouldn’t take a girl away from her mother unless the mother was a misogynist! They wouldn’t!”

“They teach you to believe these things, but… Yasmin, Kerlile was a beautiful idea. But in the end, it didn’t work as it should have. Can you see that?”

“I…” Yasmin gripped the phone harder, she was shaking. “I don’t know…”

“Let me tell you about my own mother, your great-grandmother. She was in an unhappy marriage to my father in Serriel. She wanted freedom, and she wanted freedom for me. She brought me and my sisters to Kerlile in search of that freedom, and for her, she found it. A society where women could do as they wished. But for me… I didn’t see freedom. I saw a fence around the border, I saw people being taken away for criticising the government. I wanted for Farah what my mother had wanted for me… but I failed. And for that, I’m so, so sorry.”

“But…” Yasmin couldn’t work out what to say.

“The world changes, every year is different to the last. One person’s freedom can be another person’s prison… if we’d left a day earlier we would have left as a family and everything would’ve been different. Yasmin… I don’t have long left. I’m old. I don’t have many regrets, but having to leave Farah is the only thing I can’t forgive myself for. I would love to meet you, and see my daughter just once more before I die.”

“Grandmother…” Yasmin found herself on the edge of tears. “I… I’d love that.”

“Really?” Aamina sounded so thrilled, even though her own tears continued to fall. “Maybe you can come here…”

*

Najjar Residence, Serriel
25th December 2020

They’d stopped over in Laeral to get a connecting flight, and the airport had contained such sparkly and beautiful decorations as Yasmin had ever seen. Such things did not often exist in Kerlile, and it made it even stranger to see that it was for Christmas. The very thing that had caused so much trouble two years earlier. There had even been a Santa. It was all so new to her, the freedom to travel… freedom in general.

When Farah Najjar saw her mother for the first time since the age of two, she was overcome with emotions. She’d spent her life believing this woman had abandoned her, but in that moment, she knew it couldn’t be true. She embraced her mother, searching her memory desperately for traces from before. Aamina had grown old, she was in her late 80s, but she hugged her daughter tightly without any frailty.

Yasmin, still wary, and feeling sick from the flight, shook her grandmother’s hand. They were invited inside and given food and drinks. Yasmin smiled ever so gently as her mother and grandmother talked, telling each other of their lives, which should never have been lived apart. They sat close, and invited Yasmin to sit with them. She snuggled closely to her mother and wondered at how the world could change so quickly.

The three women sat together, sharing their stories, a thousand miles from Kerlile, and together at last despite all the attempts to separate them.