The Industrialist

"Be a patriot. Contribute to Science, to the Corporation, and to Axe Central!"

The gargantuan holographic billboard announced, echoing its volume reaching up to four city blocks.

It advertised a man with stature, square-faced, trimmed facial hair, ominous eyes behind framed glasses, an Industrial Tier 4 who appeared on the flat screens with a slogan beside it – "Be inspired. Strive to become one of us!"

A name emphasized below - Doctor Levi Menks.

It was an unending loop of advertising a person’s ego.

Levi Menks was once his father’s companion when they were working on a Project called Nightfall. It happened during their stints as Electronic Scientists Tier 4.

A dreadful memory restricted the orphan from reminiscing his father’s work knowing that Project Nightfall was a success. The project’s success never reached the masses or even the headlines.

Mysteriously, somehow Nightfall disgraced many powerful positions which converted his father to become a rebel.

His father might have discovered something morally wrong along the progress of Nightfall and was betrayed by Menks, keeping it a secret. Branding his father, Erik, a traitor to the cause, and Menks the hero of everything else, putting the latter on a pedestal of divinity.

Erik was a traitor to the Corporation, to science, and to his country. The reason was vague and no one would dare go up against a powerful tyrant.

Lance craned his head to the billboard installed on towering structures and clasped his hand to his chest, his heart thumped fast upon glancing at the man’s face alone.

The lies built by the media about the Corporation, the world, and his father’s smeared reputation had everyone believing the stories, unfortunately.

Except for the rebels.

It was convenient for the many who benefitted from the project’s proceeds and the Corporation’s promises of a better life, of a renewed Earth.

"Jasper, talk to me." Lance pressed his palm which triggered an audio device implanted at the back of his ear.

"How are you, master?" Jasper responded.

"I am looking for a specialist, Jasper. According to Roger, the Specialist lives amongst the Rebels. And they are hard to find. Activate GPS tunnels entrance to the southern sector."

The rebels couldn’t be found by mere GPS only, otherwise, the Corporation could easily find them. What he knew was confidential information about the rebel’s secret passage which his father had educated him.

His father was an Electronic Tier 4 then turned Rebel.

His father’s knowledge was bestowed to Lance which enlightened him about the Corporation’s truth about their hidden agenda - dark and unimaginable that one would call preposterous and sinister.

"Initializing… the nearest tunnel entrance is six blocks southeast to your position, through the hovercraft warehouses." A direction lined on a holographic map that showed on his iris.

"Smart. Their passage has changed near the police armory." Lance whispered.

"Why is it smart, master?" Jasper retorted.

"It is when the police will least expect it and oblivious to the rebel’s activity. They can easily pilfer weapons and vehicles without suspicion."

"How do you find the rebels in the tunnels, master?"

"There are signs for the members. I will follow them and use a name for safe passage."

They reached an external perimeter of a series of warehouses fenced by screens laced with stunning fields - harmless to the naked eye but providing an immense agonizing jolt of high-ampere electric current.

"Guns, I hate guns," Jasper said as they passed through marching robotic police operatives in the warehouse’s yard. Every movement was synchronized.

’Calibration?’ Lance assessed the reason for marching robotic police.

Their guns were long-barreled, heavy-looking, and with magazines protruding from their respective slots. Their rifles were high-caliber capacity or laser-filled battery magazines.

"You know ’hate’ now?" Lance mused, surprised with how an AI evolved in a manner of weeks.

"You have been telling me that since I was created. I just copied your expression." Jasper answered back.

Rebels do have guns, but way less sophisticated, and obsolete than the Government-issued weapons, Scientifically patented, and created with utmost destructive efficiency.

The Corporation designed the weapons themselves.

Astoundingly, the rebels survived though pushing almost to the brink of their total annihilation.

’They had help, maybe?’ Lance thought.

All police that had seen him passing by the external premises had scanned him, and expectedly, without further reprimand.

Luckily, the police records showed that he was an outstanding Scrapper 1 who contributed to the design integration of Bio-scanners in water dispensers.

"Follow the Cause, citizen! Deliberate violation against the Cause is punishable by death," The robotic police told the kid. Its script was automatic.

Somehow, his invention contributed to the betterment of society. He submitted it not to the purpose of appealing himself to the Corporation’s Awards Committee, but to the commoners who benefitted from his invention.

It actually saved lives.

After a few blocks, a quick and inconspicuous corner, Lance turned. It was a dead end and only a minute passageway to the underground was seen, at the center of deadlock walls. The GPS scans suggested that he stood at the given coordinates.

Lance passed through a manhole obscured from erring eyes. As he climbed down a ladder and descended a dark cavernous tunnel, the lights glimmered as he stepped on the moist concrete. Unexpectedly, cool air embraced him and passing his nostrils without a wisp of pollution.

’Filtered,’ Lance assessed.

Posters of Doctor Levi posted on the tunnel walls like an election campaign with a famous slogan of "Be inspired."

Even in these slums, lies still reach underneath. Lance spat and cursed, hoping his hate would vanish. Surprisingly, it was effective though.

He tore one poster and clasped it in his hands which almost immediately, anger conquered again upon pondering the face of a traitor and a liar.

’Be inspired!’ As the imaginary voice hammering inside his skull, fueled his hatred even more. The kid imagined a grand scheme at play to push Menks to unmask his ominous secrets and clear his father’s name in the process.

The odds were far beyond his comprehension.

’Little steps.’ He urged himself.

"This is a dangerous place, Master Lance," Jasper said.

"This is the place where they hide. Scan for signs. They moved locations constantly to stay hidden from the inspections and all rebel members deployed outfield will know their way back home."

"What do you mean signs?" Jasper asked as Lance pressed deep into the tunnel. Footfalls echoed through the empty dark space. Inspecting almost every inch of the walls with the dim light, he was thorough.

Lance never missed an inch of every step, even the ground, and dark sudden corners. The signs could be anywhere.

His knees felt tiresome from the long walk, but at long last, he found a symbol. A discernable exhalation was expelled right after.

The symbol, a perfectly formed spray paint, was a dove kissing its feet and the wings widespread, touching both wingtips with each other which formed a vague symbol of infinity.

Why infinity? Lance found it laughable.

"This is the sign, Jasper. I found one!" Lance darted to the printed symbol on the wall. His fingers trained among the paint and felt the smoothness of a finished concrete.

"How can you understand it, Master?" Jasper scanned it and logged it in.

"The order of the feathers. It’s a location, Jasper." He paused for a moment, his eyes were slowly inspecting the sequence and patterns to decipher a vague code. His wits were almost defeated by the challenge. It was meant to be hard, especially for those who do not belong.

"Scan location 6.41.20," Lance commanded Jasper after a few silent and difficult moments.

"Scanning…" Jasper responded "Tunnels Sector 4, sequence 41, Maintenance deck 20."

Axe Central was so vast that the tunnels seemed to have another city beneath the mains. Rebels could easily hide from police inspection beneath as the tunnels seemed like an enlarged rat maze.

Rats.

"A mile away from here, Master."

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