Beyond Anarchy

It’s a cold night, and there is nothing more that I would like to do than to return home and fall asleep with Jasper. Unfortunately, as there must always be, there is something holding me back—my job.

Now, 9 to 5 is sufficient, but this extra volunteeresque bullshit is unnecessary. This company would have us become mercenaries and spies for the “better good” if less of us were obese. In comparison to what is surely the ultimate Orbis Incorporated goal, my task isn’t too tedious, and it’s lucky that I live in the suburbs despite working in the city.

So, as every other day, I’m parked on the side of the middle of the long stretch of road taking me through nowhere (approx. 8 miles of it). The cheap projector I’ve been so generously given by my boss flickers dimly in front of me as I type in a traffic report so Orbis can “better our transportation” by spying on the world. Most of the roads were clear today, so I really had nothing to report except for the asshole who flashed all of Lipton Street around noon, causing police to swarm by and shut down that signal for ten minutes.

Granted, the report usually doesn’t take long. But it’s an obstacle in the travel from work to home and my temperament isn’t nice enough this late to allow for a pause in the drive, be it for a few minutes. I envy those who can be okay with the task, or even enjoy it. Kie Jang from Editing can make her summary an exciting adventure despite being about the perpetual traffic by the shantytowns she passes, and Oregon Sills, the office man-whore from Customer Support, can regale the readers with an erotic drive. Maybe that’s their way with dealing with the monotony of rewriting the same thing day-to-day. For Oregon, though, I suspect it’s the thing lifting him out of the monotony of his life (not including his choice of lifestyle).

When I finish, I click "send" and restart my car. Ahead of me, it seems like there is smoke rising, and I brace myself to stop on the road again to report an accident or an unsupervised campfire.

What I see makes me slam down on the accelerator and suddenly the car lurches

Someone shouts

A bloodied face comes too close to my window

And I’m shooting off with my heart racing more quickly than my driving with those faces rushing inwards and an evil creeping into my mind—

Breathe.

I still can’t believe it, but I have to because a glance at my window shows a bloodied handprint. The car makes a suspicious clunking sound and even though I desperately want to speed into oblivion, I have to slow down.

The city's roadside sign appears blessedly quickly, and I autopilot my way back home. With disgust, I just barely manage to hose off the blood on the glass into the front lawn, and then park in the driveway.

Inside, I want to tell Jasper about what happened, but he’s dead asleep and I should know how much he deserves that.

So I squeeze myself as close to his side as possible and try to forget the skull-wearing people and slow-burning man on the side of the road.

I wake up from a nightmare of iron fumes into a cinnamon-scented reality. Outside, Jasper’s by the waffle maker with an open jar of brown sugar, and I find myself hoping that his expertise in cooking outweighs the terror of last night’s events. I give him a quick kiss before helping myself to breakfast, and taking it outside.

The grass on the front lawn is dewy with the regression of the storm that paralleled my thoughts last night. I can’t see any remnants of what I washed off under the moon. It becomes almost too easy to forget.

“You should have woken me.” Jasper’s arms are wrapped around my waist and he rests his chin on my shoulder.

“I came home really late last night. You were knocked out.”

“Still. We could have finished that movie we started.”

I hum and lean back, trying to find comfort. Jasper’s chuckle loosens my rigid muscles as it passes through my body. “Will you stay at home today?”

“Can I?” I’d need it. “I should call in, then.”

“Was it that easy for you to convince yourself? Orbis is taking a lot out of you.” I can hear the concern in his voice, and I know he wants me to leave. This is far from the first time I’ve seemed tired of my job. But I need it—we have to pay for this house, and although Jasper could pay for the entire community with one signature, we agreed to earn our home. I can deal with boredom, but not with losing the battle to temptation of unearned prosperity.

Besides, the reason to stay home today isn’t because I’m tired; I’m scared of what might still be on that road.

“No, it’s fine.” I turn around and hug him. “I promise.”

“Okay, Atlanta. I’ll believe you.” I look up to brown eyes crinkled at the corners and I meet his smile with my own.

-

My boss picks up on the third call. “Atlanta, you’re coming, right? We need you here.” Joseph sounds harried—as usual. Insofar as I give any thought to him, I wonder how dangerously high his blood pressure must be.

“I’m sorry, but I’m calling in to say I’m sick.” I sound too calm to be sick, but who is he to judge?

“We just got an invitation to a very important meeting, and you especially—”

“My secretary has all my notes, and if you want my presentation I sent it to Kie. She’s probably done editing it.”

“No, Atlanta, this is really, um, a big deal...”

It’s probably nothing more a meeting to reiterate the importance of our jobs and for “all levels of the company, regardless of position, to serve the common good.” We’re overdue for one anyways. Or maybe they’ve decided to start training us as spies to infiltrate China—in the name of patriotism, of course.

“I got herpes from Oregon, sorry.”

There’s a silence, and then, “What? Don’t you have a boy—” Beep. I end the call and accidentally turn off my phone.

I feel bad for cutting him off. Joseph’s a nice guy. But a nice guy won’t make me go out there again. At least not today.

I turn around and almost fall over. Jasper’s right in front of me, and his eyes glint with humor and something a little darker. “Awfully horrible, what Oregon did,” he says.

“Jealous?” I smile. “Everyone knows his reputation. It only makes sense.”

“Not when you, Ms. Lin, already have a boyfriend. One who, yes, is jealous.” His eyes are focused on mine and the corner of his mouth lifts up.

“I really hope he doesn’t mind too much,” I say, and face the other way. I know exactly how to play Jasper, and having him follow my tune will, hopefully, keep him at home.

“And if he does?” I can feel the words against my ear, and I smile, turning to face him again. Just then, the oven beeps ridiculously loudly, as always.

I glare at it. “Dammit. Can’t you be more considerate?”

Jasper laughs. “The oven apologizes. It’s sorry for interrupting your insatiable thirst.”

“It should be.”

Jasper grabs the cake pans from inside and begins to put them in containers. I really don’t want him to leave. “Can’t you stay?”

He looks apologetic. “We have a client who wants a demo of how her cake is going to be.”

“I suppose that’s fine.” I shift on my feet as Jasper collects his things and exits the house. “But be back home quickly. I won’t miss you, but I’m sure Isthmus will.” Isthmus is the chocolate lab that our neighbors own, but who stays in our yard more than theirs.

“Tell Isthmus I’ll miss her, too!” He yells back. I pull a face at him, and stay a while longer to watch him leave, and then to just observe the tranquil community.

Lavish homes peek out from perfectly grown trees, hiding wealth under an illusion of wilderness. A sheer dome collects all of us under it, and allows for the perfect lazy warmth to ruminate in seclusion. I could almost fall asleep standing. It seems crazy to think that there are horrors outside this literal bubble of safety. But tinges of the real world glimmer at the edge of my crafted reality: the lone road is a single line in the distance on the hill it passes over; the air above us shimmers with the arranged gas particles constantly straining against the might of the sun; and my own heart thrumming too loudly to be at peace.

“Get your act together,” I say to myself. I know I’m overreacting. I should have reported the damn incident yesterday as soon as I got home. Just some crazy people on the road, let the police deal with it. But the utter wrongness of that scene, its backwardness, still makes me tremble.

I want to binge something, lose myself in a different world. But just as I turn to go in, I see a sleek black vehicle gliding on the highway in my direction. It’s a beautiful car—a Ski—skimming the air just above the ground. But it’s also a predator, silent and deadly. There are only about a dozen Skis around the world, and only one person owns one in the United States: the CEO of Orbis.

And I happen to be the only employee under his reign in this city.

-- -- -- -- --

Title: Beyond Anarchy

Genre: Adventure, Romance

Age range: 15-50

Author pseudonym: Aora Lin

Why your project is a good fit: I guess it appeals to a variety of readers. Dystopia isn't a new genre, but I'm attempting to focus on the fall into dystopia, the unraveling of a world into anarchy. The book itself will take a first person perspective into the futile attempt to save a world, and while this may seem bleak, I hope to eventually demonstrate that perhaps saving the world isn't what this particular world, bound by laws enacted by a single transnational leader, blatant class discrimination, and skewed morals, needs.

Synopsis: While Orbis Incorporated runs the entire world--and almost every aspect of it--an irreversible change is gaining traction. A movement that yearns for liberation at any cost is about to gain the public's eye, and it is Atlanta's (unwanted) task to infiltrate and disintegrate it. She has no experience with anything so dangerous, but backing out would mean she would be silenced--permanently.

Target audience: Young adults, adults

Platform: Inkitt

Personality / writing style: I publish short prose and poetry on theProse, but there are several files of lengthy, unfinished stories that are demanding to be let out from the confines of my desktop. I'm highly focused on everything I like to do, and I think I get along with people pretty well, although I thrive in my own company. My writing style involves lots of foreshadowing that isn't truly visible until the climax occurs, and impactful descriptions.

Likes/hobbies: Biological sciences, writing, drawing (faces, hands, flowers), binging books

Hometown: Parkland, FL