Ducks By The Lake [Part Six: Reality Shatters]

A retreat to post-modernism...

I sat there in my chair in the living room. It must have been midnight or thereabouts but I just couldn't stop my head going round in circles. It'd been hours since I saw Callum but still my mind was racing like crazy. My life would never be the same again, nor would my perception of the world. How could they do this? How could they do that to someone like him? I just couldn't...

It's hard to write down even now. It's too hard to pick up this stupid pen and just write it down and tell you what was said but, for the purposes of history, I suppose must. So here goes.

"The young man was a friend. My brother. My partner in crime so to speak. And he was beaten up for the most...human...of reasons. He was a victim of his own nature. But his own nature was something that was out of his control. My friend...this is why he was attacked...and this is why YOU need to know..."

"Ok. I'm ready".

"You can never be ready for this. This will tear your cosy little world apart..."

"Just tell me already!"

Callum looked at me and took a deep breath.

"He was attacked because...because...he's not...human...not anymore".

I stood there and looked at him for a few moments before laughing sarcastically.

"Oh. Good one. You had me going for a second there!"

"It's true".

"Not human?! He wasn't human? You're kidding me right? How the hell do you expect me to believe that?"

"Anymore".

"What?"

"He wasn't human anymore".

"I know that! He was dead! Of course he's not human anymore because he's gone onto bloody pastures new now! What the hell do you take me for? Wasn't human? So what was he? Alien? Have we had visitations from little green from the planet Octavio or something?!"

"Don't be absurd. We've had visitations for years..."

"Don't test my patience, Callum!"

"I always knew it was going to be hard for you to believe but I was hoping you'd be rather more open-minded than this..."

"Open minded? Open...right. Yup".

"That boy you saw and I. We belong to a group called 'The Inside'. And we keep an eye on people of interest with regards to the pursuit of truth. We pick on people who have an underlying urge to pursue knowledge in its purest form and confront them with the truth of their reality. We are the ultimate truth-seekers".

"You sound more like Illuminati. You're basically just a bunch of sordid...post-modernists aren't you!"

Callum thought for a moment.

"I hadn't thought of it like that. But yes. We are the ultimate post-modernist think tank".

"Damn it my head's starting to hurt..."

"This is normal. most people react this way. As you've already witnessed".

"You told that mob guy?"

"That was...unfortunate. He found out and...well...eliminated the threat".

My head was spinning with all this information. I wasn't sure what to believe at that moment. And it was only going to get weirder...

"Brother Jackson was a good young man. He had so much potential..."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?!"

"You don't believe me do you".

"OH WHATEVER GAVE YOU THAT IMPRESSION?! WHEN YOU WROTE ME THAT LETTER I DIDN'T THINK I'D BE CAVORTING WITH A FREAKING COMMUNIST!"

"I am not a Communist. Communists have been extinct for 50 years".

"Look...I can't deal with this right now. I have no job, I've been in prison and I have a family to try and looks after. I can't be involved with whatever you're trying to get me into..."

"We need you".

"Well I don't need you. I don't want you to ever contact me again. You understand? I don't want you near me or my family. Got it?"

"I can't guarantee that. I can only guarantee that I'll keep trying. Then one day you will concede".

"Oh you wanna bet?"

"Yes. You will concede. Or will you remain the coward you were as a young man?"

I saw red. I looked at him, raised my fist and threw a punch at him. I hit his face, but it was me who let out the agonizing scream. Callum just stood there as if nothing happened. I nursed my fist which was throbbing. It was like I'd hit a brick wall. But it hadn't.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

I looked up at him and I saw what was wrong. His face looked perfectly still, but I could see silver running across his face. It wasn't like blood or anything, it was just kind of sitting there. Static. I studied him carefully as my fist started to adjust to the pain. Callum watched me as I scrutinized every inch of his face. The silver catching my eye as it glimmered in the street lights. It was like...he was a robot. But he couldn't be...

"What are you?"

Callum chuckled. He put both his hands on his head and paused.

"See for yourself..."

I then watched with horror as he slowly peeled back his skin. It was like watching an autopsy when the coroner opens up the brain, seeing the hair and scalp come off him like some old wallpaper. He continued to until he revealed a metallic structure where his head should be. I couldn't see his face, that was obscured by his scalp, but I looked inside. The metallic structure opened like the doors in Star Trek to reveal something organic beneath it. I looked carefully as it dawned on me that it was a human brain. It just sat there. Pulsating, beating, working inside a metallic shell. It made me sick to my stomach. I stepped back in horror as the metallic structure closed and he repaired his appearance. The squelching of the skin as he did so is a sound I'll never forget. It was disgusting. I'd never seen anything like it before. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Callum smiled when his form, including his face, was completely repaired. The silver streaks that were there before had disappeared as if they were never there. Not even a small mark on his now perfect skin...

"Do you understand now?"

I shook me head slowly. I wasn't going to pretend when I was in shock.

"Not. At. All. You're a...a...robot!"

"Not exactly. I'm an amalgamation of robotics and organic material".

"Who...who the hell did this to you?!"

"I don't know. I can't remember".

"You don't...How can you forget something like that?"

"Great gaps in memory are nothing new. I've suffered with them for as long as I can remember. Which, as it happens, is not very long when you look at it in perspective".

"But you used to be...completely...human?"

"I can only assume so. I have a human brain, human emotions and human memories. Therefore I must have been, at some stage, human. Yes".

"How long have you been like this?"

"I can't tell you. As I have no time frame to compare it to".

I stared him up and down, trying to process what I was seeing. I kept shaking my head just in case I was dreaming. As far as I knew, that letter was laced with something. Some kind of...hallucinogenic or something and I was just on some kind of weird trip. Any second then, a leprechaun was going to start jumping around the streets riding a golden retriever who had the voice of the big guy out of the A-Team from centuries ago. This can't have been real. I kept pinching myself and kicking myself hoping I'd wake up in a hospital bed. But no such look.

"And that boy..."

"He was like me too. There are a few of us. 6 in total".

It was at this moment that something hit me...

"Let's see how many times we can kick you until you can't feel anymore? Call it 'scientific curiosity'"

"Of course. 'Scientific curiosity' meant...damn..."

"Now you understand?"

"Still no...how could someone do this? Take human brains..."

"And other organs..."

"And...what?"

"I'm also equipped with two human kidneys, a liver and a heart".

I stood there in shock.

"Ok...who could take all of those from a human and put them into a robot?! Who would do such a thing? And why?!"

"I don't know. That's why we need you".

"Why me?"

"You're not like the others. You don't believe in the divides that dictate your society and you are fair in nature. You don't like violence and hate others using it..."

"I'll have you know that I destroyed an NS-2 droid with a cricket bat".

Callum looked confused.

"Why?"

"Because...because...the fucker had it coming. That's why".

"That's irrelevant".

"That's what the NS-2 kept saying..."

"You are more inquisitive than your peers. And we need people like you in The Inside. We need a sharp and inquisitive mind like yours to work out what happened to us. Because, how do we know that others are not becoming like me? It might be for the best of reasons, but we still need to know. And the public deserve to know if their friends, their families, their peers, are being changed. Don't you think?"

He had a point.

"Wouldn't you want to know if your children had suffered the same fate as me?"

I knew then I had no choice. I accepted his offer of joining The Inside, whatever that was, on the condition that my family be left alone. Callum accepted. And that was it. The deal was made. I was now part of what could possibly be a revolutionary movement. The search for the truth of what had happened to them and whether it was happening to others.

Before I left, Callum would tell me that he would send me details of my first meeting with the rest of his kind in due course. But for the moment, I was to rest and try to process everything I'd seen. Could I process it? I had to eventually but, I mean come on, that doesn't happen does it?

Still, even that wouldn't prepare me for what was yet to come...

CALLING ALL ASPIES

UK General Election 2015 For Young People - Post 1: Intial Thoughts

Politics head secured. Let the discussions begin...

Next year's going to be a big year for me as well as my age group. It will be the first general election in which I, and my age group, can vote. However, I fear that the turnout for next year among my age group may be lower than ever before.

Why? Because this Government is so divisive among our demographic. Why? Well, allow me to explain my thoughts. I want to say now that these are only my views and do not reflect the views of anyone else I know or anyone in general.

1. This Government had tripled tuition fees for students. No-one can deny that. That is a fact. The Liberal Democrats promised to abolish tuition fees if they got into power and it became one of their flagship policies. However, the Conservatives said they would triple it and, well, we all know who won that argument...

2. There appear to be more young people supporting the Conservative party despite their lives being majorly affected. The under-25 population are increasingly becoming worse off by the ConDem Government as it appears in the media that most of its policies seem to somehow rebound back onto us. Despite this, more and more young people seem to be supporting the Tory party. As a left-leaning liberal I personally find this staggering but it'd be a very boring world if we all shared the same views would it not? As far as I'm aware, out of my lecture group, there are only 3 non-Tories (myself included). Which I find frankly bizarre but I respect them nonetheless. In that group there are also two Thatcherites (in fact one of my best friends in uni is one of them. We don't agree on politics but she's a Whovian, a Sherlockian and a Queen fan so I let her off from time to time...) including one who is a self-proclaimed Marxist.

3. There aren't really any alternatives. There's Labour with Ed Miliband and Ed Balls in charge. Now, I like Miliband but I'm not too keen on Balls. (Take that any way you want to). And I think that if Labour were to come back to power next year I think Miliband should be very careful who he puts in his cabinet. Because I don't think, in this instance, two Eds are better than one. (Ba dum, tsch!)

Any way you look at it, it's going to be an interesting general election. But this is really all I can write right now due to the fact that I'm ill, I can't think of anything else currently, and I can't really make any more points without reading each party's manifestos which'll probably come out sometime later in the year.

But what are your thoughts? And if there was an election tomorrow, who you would vote for?

I personally wouldn't vote if there was one tomorrow but that's not to say that I'll do that next May...

Apologies

Just a quick post to apologize for the lack of Ducks By The Lake this weekend. I know I said it would be up yesterday but I haven't been feeling well over the weekend and haven't been able to knuckle down to anything. So I'm sorry for the wait.

Assuming I'm better in the next couple of days, Part Six will be up Tuesday or Wednesday. I'd rather recover completely and know that I'm able to concentrate on it rather than writing something and it not being up to scratch.

Hope you all had a better weekend than I did and see you soon!

The Memory Of Modern History

We never realise what we had until its gone...

I wanted to write this last night but I was too pre-occupied with the Hunger Games. So I'm taking time out of Ducks By The Lake to write a serious post about something I saw last night. Now that I've had time to word what I want to say.

Yesterday, my university hosted an event which was different to any I've seen before. A survivor of the Holocaust in Poland was coming to give a talk on her experiences to the students and staff here. When I saw it, I knew I had to go for 2 main reasons. Of which I'll explain later.

First of all, I completely underestimated the number of people that would attend. The main auditorium theatre was booked which is nearly I think is somewhere near a 200 seat capacity. (Give or take 50 or so). I only presumed 10-20 people would appear. I don't know why, it's just something that I thought.

I was so wrong.

There were people sitting on the steps to the seats and standing at the back from what I could tell. It was PACKED. I was strangely happy about this because it showed that there was still curiosity across the social spectrum. I went alone but it was nice to see so many people turn up.

The woman, I'll leave her nameless for reasons, was a young child in Poland when the Russians subjugated her half of Poland in 1939 and she gave some limited insight into life under the Russians. Surprisingly, she said that it wasn't that different to what she already knew. The only difference she could remember was that she went to school at an earlier age than she would've if Russia hadn't invaded. 

However, as we all know, in 1941 the Nazis launched Operation Barbarossa and invaded the Russian half of Poland. The whole of Poland was now subjugated under Hitler and, just as they had in the East, they started making the lives of the Jews very hard indeed. (Thankfully for her, she did not end up in the camps. So this was purely a Ghetto story).

I'm sure I don't need to recap you on what happened as I hope you are all aware of what happened to the Jews in Nazi occupied areas.

This woman went on to explain how she and her family was moved to the Ghettos, how her father was shot, how her mother died of typhus a few months later and, ultimately, how her younger brother was shot by a Wehrmacht officer at the age of 7 more or less in front of her. (For some reason, she doesn't know why, the soldier refused to shoot her but had no qualms with killing her brother. Maybe due to the Nazi view of women? Who knows).

The lady I saw is now 81 and she's only recently started to speak openly of her experience under Nazi occupation as, I'm sure you can understand, it was very traumatic for her. But there were a few things she said that really stuck with me.

1. She was asked the question by one of the audience whether she'd ever met a German who was a Wehrmacht soldier in the war. The lady said that "fortunately" she had not. But she also didn't know what she would do if she ever did. She said she's not a violent lady but she wouldn't know what she'd do. But she reckons she'd feel very scared to be around them given what happened to her and what she saw.

2. She was also asked what she thought about the representation of the Holocaust in Hollywood and other popular media. She said that she couldn't watch Schindler's List because she said it felt "untrue" when she tried to. She said that the best representation she'd seen of something similar to her experiences was 'The Pianist' by Roman Polanski who was also himself in the Polish Ghettos. But when The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas was raised (possibly the most popular modern adaptation to date of the Holocaust based on a fictional book), she admitted she hadn't seen the film but she said that she didn't mind films of the Holocaust as long as there was some real truth to it. (Fair enough).

3. She later explained how she married and Englishman and had two sons, who did not know of her experiences until the 90's. But she said that, despite all she went through and the hatred she felt for the Nazis, she always taught her children to be tolerant of every single person no matter who or what they are regardless of race, colour or creed. Because what's the point of going through something like that if you don't learn that lesson at the end of it?

When I got back to my flat, I thought about History in general. Especially modern history. Obviously, this year marks the centenary of the start of the First World War which killed millions of people and wiped out a while generation people on BOTH sides of the fight. And, I'm not sure about Germany or the opposing side during the conflict, but all British survivors of the period are all gone as far as I'm aware. And that's something my generation lost but my mothers generation retained for a long time.

I was discussing this with my mum on the phone last night while I was watching Hunger Games and I told her that what I, and many others, saw yesterday was a special thing. A rarity. We got to hear what we already knew from the first person perspective. It's all very well and good being told by your teacher what happened and seeing pictures on PowerPoint or VIDEOS of survivors on the whiteboard, but there's something radically different about hearing it from the 1st person. Well, obviously, it's because it's FROM the first person. But the atmosphere it created as well was something I'd never experienced before.

But it got me thinking. I'm part of the unlucky generation that didn't have many World War I survivors to hear from about their experiences about the trenches. My generation and generations to come have to rely on documentaries and Blackadder. (Which, no matter what Michael Gove says is a great way for students to get an idea!) We had Harry Patch for a while but, sadly, he passed a way a few years ago. So my generation have lost that advantage. That said, my generation still have survivors from the Second World War which is something we are lucky to have for current time. 

My Nan was a teenager during the Second World War and, although she doesn't remember everything she experienced during it, she tells me what she can. In fact, if she hadn't have sat me down and explained the gas mask I found in her bungalow was for, I'd probably never have found history so interesting and important as I do now! But, like I say, she tells me what she can. I remember we sat in a fish and chip shop once for an hour eating food while she was telling me what she remembered. But, realistically, she's the closest thing I have to the Second World War. 

Which is why I'm keen to talk about it with her before the day inevitably comes when I won't have the chance to anymore. (I'd rather not think about or accept that notion but I have to be realistic). My grandfather died 13 years before I was born and he actually served during the war so I never had him to talk to. (That said, from what my Mum says, I don't think he often did anyway. Understandably). (I'm not sure about my grandparents on my paternal side. I've only recently started to talk them again so I'm still in the process of finding out. I know they're both dead but that's as far as my knowledge goes for this kind of topic).

And when all that generation have gone, the children of my generation won't have THAT luxury. They'll be like us with WWI. They'll have to rely on documentaries, teachers and DVDs. Then, when our children learn more about the Cold War and how if affected everyone, they'll look to our parents/ But they're not going to last forever either. One day they'll all be gone. They'll have the luxury of the Cold War memory, the legacy of Thatcher and the Berlin Wall collapse but that also won't last forever.

So what about us? My generation. What will we have to impart to our future grandchildren? Well, that I don't know. Maybe it hasn't happened yet. I have some candidates but we, thankfully, don't have what our parents, grandparents and great-grandparents had. We didn't have a war or a Cold War that affected all of Europe or America. I suppose the closest thing we have to that is 9/11 or something but that was mainly America. So I don't know what we'd have. But I think different countries have different things.

People in Greece will have the economic collapse?

America will talk of 9/11?

Japan will talk of the 2011 tsunami?

Who knows. but one day, the living memory will be gone. Lost forever. It's well and good studying it but sometimes, to get information, we need to look to our elders. Because, they're the closest thing you've got to the furthest reaches of history. And one day they're not going to be here anymore. My children will not have the luxury of attending a talk like I went to last night on the same subject just like I can't see a WWI survivor talk about his experience in the trenches or her experience in a field hospital.

So next time you want to know about the Second World War or the Cold War, look to your grandparents or parents. They're not going to be around forever. And, emotional stuff aside, we're going lose an invaluable piece of the human consciousness. I want to be a teacher in order to inspire others to enjoy history. But I wouldn't have done that if my Nan hadn't explained the gas mask to me.

Study history folks. 

And study your grandparents before it's too late. 

What the lady I saw did last night, given the sensitive nature of the topic, was an incredibly brave thing to do. And it was invaluable to our overall understanding of what she went through. She was one of the bravest people I'd ever seen. There needs to be more people like her. If you see a talk about something historical from the first person, go and see it. Then you'll understand what I mean. It's incredible and so engaging.

This is why I'm passionate about history. Because the memory is dwindling and fading. 

No...fading is the wrong word. It's burning out. Not fading away...

Ducks By The Lake [Part Five: The Shared Experience]

Expect the unexpected...

I got to Winchester Road first. It was a cold, rainy night. But not acid rain. Normal rain thankfully. I wouldn't dare risk going out in a torrential acid rain shower. But I got there ten minutes before we were due to meet as I wanted to see who I thought it was. And then if I had the chance to run I'd take it.

It was deathly silent for a new housing estate. You normally saw the kids out playing until 9pm but there were no kids today. Probably due to the rain. My kids weren't out playing at this time. They were watching the television with Freya. And as far as she was concerned, I was going out to the pub for a quick drink. I don't think she'd be too happy if she knew where I really was.

Before I knew it, 7:25 hit. And no-one was there. I was stood alone. Had I been played by someone or was I about to be the victim of a long range gunshot? Who knew. I was rather hoping to have been played...

"You're early..."

I looked to my left, where the voice came from. A man was standing there. He must have been in his mid 20s and had short blonde hair as opposed to the teenager from the alley, who I believed I was meeting. I looked at him up and down very confused.

"Do I know you?"

"No. You don't. But you do now".

He walked over to me and stood facing me. He held out his hand as to shake mine. I did very carefully.

"My name is Callum. What is yours?"

"My name's not important. You're not the man I saw die in the alleyway..."

"Yes that's right. I'm sorry I had to resort to such crude methods to get you here. But I had to make it sound like it was him in order to get you here".

This was obviously part of a much bigger plan. Perhaps much bigger than I imagined at the time.

"Why did you need me here?"

"Although it was harsh of me to pretend to be my fallen brother to get you here, much of what was in the letter was still true. I did see you at the alleyway. And I could see that you wanted to help him".

"Wait, you saw me? I didn't see you?"

"I'm aware of that. I was in the shadows, much like you tried to be. You were never going to see me as you were too fixated on the event. My eyes were...wondering..."

"Wondering? Someone was dying and you were fixated on me?! What's so special about me?"

"You came. You wanted to help. That's more than any normal Second Bander would've done".

"I'm not a normal Second Bander".

"No you're not. Tell me, why did you want to help?"

"What makes you think I wanted to help?"

"Because you came to see what was happening. Most people would work out that the noise was coming from the other side of the fence and just carry on with their lives. You didn't. You came to see what was happening. That can only insinuate you had the intention of helping if you could".

He was right. I did want to help. The guilt inside me started to well up again. The fact that I couldn't help him and what could've happened. It got worse and worse the more we talked about it.

"So, what, you've come to thank me for trying?"

"No. Well, yes, but no also. Don't you want to know why he was attacked? That boy? Don't you want to know why a teenager was systematically beaten up by a gang in an alleyway?"

"Well, I can guess!"

"Oh?"

"That boy must've owed money or something. There are rumors that there's a drug problem in the Third Band areas with drug cartels growing in size and number. He must've got caught up in it and crossed that guy. And paid with his life. It's not difficult to work out. Or something like that. Maybe he was part of the crew and double crossed him?"

The man look unimpressed.

"You've watched too many films..."

"What?"

Callum started to circle me slowly. My head turned to follow him.

"This is exactly the problem. The problem with your society. You're fed a mass diet of popular culture from which you form stereotypes, prejudices, ideals, and you use these in your everyday life. Films, television, radio, the internet, any valid source of information you can get your hands on. You consume what they tell you and you accept it as gospel truth. Why else would they say it if it wasn't true?"

"That's not true at all!"

"You've just done it".

"No I haven't!"

"You just assumed that the boy was killed due to a drugs cartel or by double crossing the boss. You've just compared real life to the Godfather films".

"Well...they're good films..."

"And you're also assuming that this kind of thing only happens in the Third Band areas".

"Doesn't it?"

"Would you believe me if I said no?"

"Probably not".

"Why?"

"Because we'd have heard about it. In the Second Band press or the Second Band news programmes!"

"There we are again".

"What?"

"Dependent on the media for information. If it wasn't on the news or in the papers then it didn't happen".

"Violence is a Third Band pastime".

I couldn't believe what I was saying. I always thought I was more sympathetic to Third Banders. Maybe I wasn't as understanding as I'd previously thought...

"And who told you that?"

"I've seen it for myself many times".

"And you've never seen it happen in the Second Band area?"

"NO!"

"Why?"

"Because we're much more civilized than them!"

Callum smiled and chuckled. I realised what I'd just said as he did. I looked surprised when it hit me. 

"And what makes you say that? Whatever possessed you to say that?"

"I...I...I don't know..."

"I'll tell you. It's the media. The media control this country and they control this world. Feeding you certain bits of information that they want you to see or hear for their own political and personal motives. The truth hasn't anything to do with it. They have complete control over all the information in the world. They can take anything they want and twist it to any angle that they see fit. Now, let's take the Bands for example. You're told that the Peaks are the pinnacle of civilization and the group of society that everyone should look up to, while at the same time knowing you'll never get there. You're then told that the Second Band are in the middle. Those who are well to do but are the stereotypical family structure. House, kids, dog, car. Then the Third Banders are savages. They're slaves, animals, cretins, every derogatory term under the sun. There are whole documentaries on Peak and Second Band television saying that Third Banders fight for anything and that they have no formal structure of society. It's a free for all. And no-one's questioned it because no-one can. If they do there'll be hell to pay. But they also WON'T question it because they're none the wiser. They don't know any different. It's the perfect social pacification. It's the perfect way to make sure that people understand their place in life and the place of others above and below them. You look up to the Peaks, and look down on the Third Banders".

It was making sense. The more I thought about what he was saying, the more I understood and related to.

"And it's the same across the bands. The shared experience. The Peaks are told they are the best in the world. There's no-one better than them and there's no-one to challenge them. While the Third Banders are told that they are the scum of society that no-one ever cared about and no-one ever will. Only staying alive because there are still some level-headed people out there against a potential holocaust. The one shared experience in this world is the knowledge of where everyone in society stands compared to the others. The Government and the Media are the best of bedfellows. And no-one can see it. Except for a handful of people like me. And, I hope, you".

I was still trying to process what he'd said. What he was saying was challenging everything I was ever taught. But, at the same time, he was telling me what I already knew.

"Is this what you wanted to tell me?"

"No, no. That was me going off on a tangent about stereotypes. I wanted to meet you with because I know you have questions. And I promised you that I'd offer answers if I can".

Even though it seemed truthful that he wanted to answer my questions, it was obvious he'd already thought of the questions that I was going to ask. And I knew he was influencing that. He was getting me to ask the right questions.

"Ok. Fine. We'll play it your way. Why was that teenager killed in the alley?"

Callum smiled.

"A good question to start with".

He smiled for a moment before turning serious once again.

"He was killed because he was different".

"Different? Different how?"

Callum smiled once again.

"Another fine question. He was different because of his physicality. He wasn't...shall we say...normal".

I could see where this Q+A session was going. Like I said, he already knew the questions I was going to ask, so he already had answers. Open answers too annoyingly.

"Normal?"

"He wasn't like the other Third Banders".

"What? Did he try and climb the social ladder?"

"Haha. No. No-one in the Third Band does that! They know it's impossible. No. He was different for other reasons".

"What reasons?"

"You're starting to get the hang of this".

"Thanks?"

"But it is now I should warn you. THIS is the answer that will change EVERYTHING you thought you knew about your society. Once I answer this question, there's no going back. At all. Ever".

I thought very carefully about what he said.

"If you don't want to know, now is the time to go home. Back to your life. Back to your little bubble with Freya, Peter and Abigail".

My face turned angry...

"How do you know my family's names?!"

"I've done my research".

"Are you threatening my family?!"

"No. By no means. I'm only saying that if you don't want your life to radically change then now is the time to leave. I won't judge you. It's not in my...nature...to judge".

I calmed down and thought very carefully. I did not know at this point what he was going to tell me. And, for the most part now, I wish I never knew. But, once again, my curiosity got the better of me. I felt I had no choice but to carry on. 

I sighed for a moment as I thought some more. But soon after, my decision was made.

"Ok".

"Ok?"

"Tell me. What reasons?"

Callum smiled once more.

"That took guts. I respect you more now".

I acknowledged the compliment with a nod. But that was secondary at that moment. This was it. The point of no return. My life would never be the same again. God only knows that now...

"The young man was a friend. My brother. My partner in crime so to speak. And he was beaten up for the most...human...of reasons. He was a victim of his own nature. But his own nature was something that was out of his control. My friend...this is why he was attacked...and this is why YOU need to know..."

Check back in on Saturday for Part Six!

Ducks By The Lake [Part Four: This Side Of The Fence]

Sometimes, you have to open your mind...

It took a while to get the event out of my head. The event of that poor young man being brutally murdered by that gang leader. All these different thoughts kept racing through my head as I continually replayed the event again and again. Who was he? What did he do? Why was he singled out? But everytime I thought of this I had a massive sense of guilt too. On two different levels. One, that I didn't help that young man, and two, the guilt I'd feel at the end if I was shot, not being able to stay with Freya and the kids. And then came the nightmares of me dying, leaving them behind and how they'd cope, or rather not cope, without me. It was a scary thing to think about but I knew it had to stop. Otherwise it would mar the enjoyment of my life for the time being. (As if one could 'enjoy' their life given the society I lived in). But there were two things that I couldn't shift, no matter how hard I tried.

"OH, TROUBLE DOESN'T EVEN BEGIN TO COVER IT, WIRE!"

And

"Let's see how many times we can kick you until you can't feel anymore? Call it 'scientific curiosity'".

Every time I thought about it I got more and more curious as to why he called it 'scientific curiosity'. We're all taught human anatomy in school and, well, it's not rocket science to know that if you kick someone enough, it'll give them internal bleeding. So why be curious? Maybe Third Band education was as bad as the rumors suggested...

It was a Monday morning. A week after I'd seen the incident and I'd decided to do my best to put it behind me. It was 6am, time we always got up in our house. Because my two children, Peter and Abigail, would get up at 5:30 every morning and wait half an hour before getting us up in order to get ready for school. They knew how to occupy themselves with the television in the meantime. But I remember this Monday very clearly because it was a weird day. The weather was more erratic than normal and the acid rain levels were higher than usual. (And as you know reading this in the future, when the acid rain levels are high you stay indoors. Unless Government policy has changed...) The warnings were set to go right through lunchtime. So, for the meantime, we weren't going anywhere. The kids certainly weren't going to school and, well, Freya and I didn't have a job to go to so...

It was kind of family tradition that when the acid rain came, the kids and I would watch it out of the window while Freya made her famous 'Rain Soup'. (Which is just vegetable soup but we only have it on the occasion of acid rain). We kept the curtains closed for the most part, with a little gap so we could see the luminescent rain. Every time the rain came, the kids would ask me why the rain is like it is. But even I cannot explain the concept of acid rain to a 6 and 4 year old!

But the reason this Monday was weird because of something Abigail said. Abigail, the 4 year old, rarely lied which was weird for a child. She was always very honest and never even told a white lie! If you asked her if she'd eaten one of the biscuits from the jar she'd always admit to it. She was either a terrible liar or just too honest for her own.

This one day though, we were looking out the window at the rain, when Freya called me and Peter in to help her with something. She wanted me to help with chopping the carrots and wanted Peter to get some swede from the storage tank in the basement. We did so, but I remember hearing Abigail mumbling away to herself, which she very rarely did anyway. I couldn't hear much of what she was saying so I assumed that she was trying to work out why the rain was like it is. But then, eventually, I heard her say:

"It's ok! I'm not going to hurt you!"

Freya noticed as well. We looked at each other, put the knives down and went to see what was going on. Abigail was still looking out the window. And as we approached, she waved at something. Freya and I already looked confused and slightly worried.

"Abbie, honey..." Freya was looking at me more worried now, "who are you waving at?"

Abigail turned around and smiled at us.

"The man", she said happily.

Freya and I looked each other more worried than before.

"What man, sweetie?" I asked.

"The man outside!"

I could tell Freya was scared now because, if Abigail had recognized them, she'd have said their name. I looked at Abigail again.

"Was it Mr Monaghan from next door?"

Abigail shook her head.

"Was it Mrs Owens from across the road?" Freya asked, her voice breaking with fear as she did. Abigail shook her head again.

"Mr Craig? Mr Knight? Mrs Merry? Mr or Mrs Gordon?" I asked. Again, Abigail shook her head.

"Abbie, was it anyone we've had in this house before?"

"No! I've never seen him before. But he seems nice!"

Abigail turned back to see if he was still there.

"Aww...he's gone now..." She exclaimed sadly.

Freya and I turned to each other and started to discuss what had just happened. Freya was worried that someone was spying on the house. This sounds absurd but this was common practice at this point, (not sure if it still is), is someone had assaulted a robot. The spies were normally from the Robot Defense League and would stalk the houses of people known to have assaulted robots. Obviously, I'd just come out of prison. I was going to be on the list.

"What if they're coming for you?!" Freya exclaimed in fear. "What if they're going to take you away like they did Mrs Gall from St James Road?"

"Listen to me, no-one is going to take me away! I'm not going anywhere. Besides, we're missing one important thing in this whole situation. And that's Abigail saw someone OUTSIDE in the ACID RAIN". I had to do something to try and calm her down and reassure her. but Freya looked confused. "You know as well as I do that humans can't go out there due to the high acidity! If someone was out there, they'd be toast!"

Freya started to come around. She could see the logic I was presenting and started to accept it.

"But then, who did Abbie see? She's convinced she saw someone out there!"

"She said she saw a man. Only robots can go out in the acid rain because of their lead covering. As I've said, no human can survive that!"

"But who did she see then?!" Freya wanted a reason. Understandably, she wanted to be reassured.

"Freya, listen, there have been numerous studies and pieces of research into the effects of acid rain, and one of them is hallucinations from the chemicals in the rain. Not everyone's affected by it but some people are. Obviously, Abigail is! That's all it is. Her hallucinating".

Freya calmed down and accepted this. She took a few deep breaths and decided to go back to the soup. At this point, Peter returned with the swede and with an envelope. I looked down at him and he handed me the envelope.

"This was on the floor..." He said before walking into the kitchen to give Freya the swede. I looked down at the envelope and saw that it was blank on the front. No name, no address, no post code, nothing. Part of me wondered if the postman had put it through our door in a rush before the rain started but I couldn't be sure. I also couldn't be sure that it wasn't a poisoned letter from the Robot Defense League. That was one of their popular methods of attacking their targets, by lacing letters with a small amount of poison ivy. Enough to get you hospitalized but not enough to kill you. As always, my curiosity got the better of me. I just had to open it, one way or another, I had to.

"I'm just going to get something from the basement. Back in a moment". I called out to Freya. I looked back once more at Peter, who'd rejoined Abigail at the window to stare at the marvel that was the rain. Freya acknowledged the statement and I went down to the basement as proclaimed.

When I got down there, it was cold and the light was still on. Peter always forgot to switch the light off but I let him off this time as it was opportune. I reached the bottom of the stairs and placed the letter on the side while I attempted to find some gloves to open it with. It might not stop me from being poisoned, but at least I could try and minimize the damage as much as I could. I found some, put them on my sweaty hands and went back to the envelope. I was suddenly struck with a bout of fear and I questioned whether I should open it. What if it wasn't meant for me? What if it was someone's bank details? Well, I'd have to do my best to explain I suppose. My curiosity was fired up and, when that happened, there was no stopping it.

I peeled the tab carefully as not to damage it too much in case I had to reseal it. It took about 30 seconds to open it but the entire time it felt like I was trying to disarm a bomb. I was sweating more than I had with Abigail's experience and it took me back to the events of the week before. Feeling the same feelings twice in 7 days would not be good for my heart but I had to carry on. I'd thrown myself into this situation now and I had to see it through. I unfolded the paper and looked at its contents. It wasn't a bank letter, nor could I smell any poison ivy. I thought I was safe. It was hand-written but it wasn't named either. There was no name of the recipient or of who wrote it. But I knew it was for me. Because it read as follows:

I saw you. I saw you there on the other side of the fence.
I could see you wanted to help me but I understand why you couldn't.

This was uncanny. I couldn't believe what I was reading...

I imagine you have questions. LOTS of questions.
Questions for which I can supply answers. All I ask is for a
short amount of your time tomorrow night.
Meet me at the entrance of the new housing development on 
Winchester Road at 7:25pm and I'll do my
best to answer your queries. Privacy and solitude is
paramount. Come alone.

It wasn't signed. I had no idea who it was from. But my head and my heart raced. Who could it have been from? It appeared to be from that young man...but he was dead...wasn't he? I saw him killed! It couldn't have been from him. But then...it must be from the mafia boss! They'd found me! But they weren't allowed into the Second Band areas so how could they have delivered it? How could anyone have delivered it?

That's when it dawned on me. Abigail really did see someone out of the window. She wasn't tripping or hallucinating, she was telling the truth as always. My heart sank at the prospect but my constant curiosity overrode that. I did have questions. Lots of questions. For instance, who the bloody hell's personally delivering shady letters in acid rain? I knew I shouldn't go because, if it was the mafia, I wouldn't be coming back. But I also felt the need to get some answers once and for all about the things I've always been too afraid to ask. I knew that if I didn't go it would drive me insane for the rest of my life. So I had to go. It was the only way to help me sleep at night. If I wasn't killed that is! I knew that I couldn't tell Freya about this letter. She'd be terrified. So this was something else I had to burden on my own for the time being. And so, against my better judgement, I decided I was going to meet this individual.

Nothing could prepare me for what I was about to find out. I never could've dreamed in a millions years the truth I was about to learn. The reality of what goes on in our neat little world behind the scenes. And I'm not sure you'll be able to either...

Ducks By The Lake [Part Three: Different Worlds]

The kindness of strangers...

You could look in to the Third Band areas. Just as easily as you could look into the Peak areas. You just go across your area and look at each. And you'd see such a stark contrast when you looked in. If you can imagine the Second Band area having slightly modern decor throughout its architecture and its general aesthetics, while the Third Band areas looked like, for lack of a better example, the Jewish Ghettos of old that you sometimes see in history books. A squalid place full of rubbish, dirt and sewage. How the people in there survived I'll never know.

If you went across the Second Band areas to look through the fences and borders into the Peak area you'd see marvelous architecture. Mansions, top notch detached houses and 5 star apartments with swimming pools, bars and acres of land. A completely different place than to the one less than 2 miles across town. I've already mentioned that Peaks and Second Banders could mix but no-one could mix with the Third Banders. That'd be like...bestiality or something. Nobody would dare to! They were like the lepers in the time of Jesus, ostracized and hated by society for no other reason than existing.

I often used to go to the fences just to stare into what seemed to be the abyss. I used to belong to this group before everyone got segregated. For the first few years of my life I was on benefits, in low-rent housing and ostracized, but then my dad got a better job and we went up the "social ladder" as he used to describe it. I'm glad he did. Although I have almost complete sympathy for Third Banders, I often go to the fence to remind myself how lucky I am today. To be who I am, how lucky I am to have Freya and the kids. Which sounds kind of harsh I know but I see the conditions they have to live in and I'm glad that I have a cosy house in the Second Band area with a cosy little family and a dog. I have a life that many of these people could only dream of.

And it's weird knowing that they won't have the same opportunity my dad did all those years ago. If my dad hadn't have been promoted then I'd have been in this position. I don't know about Freya. She was already "middle class" so her lifestyle was already secure so I don't know. But I can't imagine my life without Freya even now. But none of these people would even be considered for a promotion now! No-one would dare offer a Third Bander the chance to better his or her life and that of their families. Imagine the Christmas parties...

I always went to the same part of the fence when I visited it. It was in the middle of small park with luscious grass and greenery which is a nice calm oasis to the chaos of the rest of the town. So, more often than not, I'd get my lunch and take it down there, just so I could watch the Third Banders live their solitary lives. Most of the time there weren't any major incidents when I observed them. You'd get the odd fight at the boozer between a couple of drunkards but nothing much beyond that. Sometimes, I'd even narrate the events in my head like a wildlife documentary to pass the time and to make light of a situation in my head.

"And here, we have the two males communicating angrily. Third Banders often use this kind of rhetoric when disgruntled in order to scare the other, sometimes to great effect. Especially when one of their females are under threat from another. If the scare tactic doesn't work, then the Third Banders will adopt another style of confrontation, but only as a last primal resort. They have duel to the death. Or at most a minor treatable maiming..."

But I remember there was one day where there was no macho duel or minor maiming. In fact, I didn't see anything...initially. But as I was just thinking of packing up and going back home, I heard some scuffling from further down the fence as well as angry voices.

"YOU THINK YOU'RE SPECIAL? YOU THINK YOU'RE SO CLEVER? WHAT MAKES YOU SO FUCKING DIFFERENT?!"

I looked to where I could hear the voices coming from. It was down a wide alley way where the fence continued. I'd never ventured down there before because, well, I'd never needed to until now it seemed.

"I SAID, WHAT MAKES YOU SO FUCKING DIFFERENT, HUH? ANSWER ME!"

I didn't plan on getting involved that day, but God only knows what would've if I hadn't! The voices appeared to get angrier the more I thought about whether or not I should involve myself in the affair. But, I think I can only say that, my better (and somewhat curious) nature got the better of me. I walked towards the voices, wondering what I'd find down there. Was I about to witness a murder or something worse? There were stories about gangs in the Third Band areas who would go out and pick on individual people for no reason other than something they said, or the way they looked at someone. Like some kind of disturbed mafia. But I couldn't help but think of these stories. If they had guns, I was going to be in the firing line just for walking in on them. And I seemed perfectly ok with it in my head. Oddly.

I got closer and closer still. My heart raced faster and faster as the voices got louder and louder.

"THAT DON'T CUT IT! WHY SHOULD WE TRUST YOU?"

There was a pause before I heard a second voice.

"Please...I never meant to cause you trouble!"

This was a gang reprisal. I stopped for a moment and thought very carefully about what my next move was going to be. If I carried on and showed myself, there was every possibility that I'd be shot and killed. If I turned back now, that person might be killed and I'd never be able to live with myself if I knew that I could've helped him.

"OH, TROUBLE DOESN'T EVEN BEGIN TO COVER IT, WIRE!"

I came to the end of the alleyway. I looked around the corner on the other side of the fence and I saw three big men standing around a timid looking teenager. A few moments after I started looking, one of the men kicked the teenager hard in the stomach. Another man (presumably the leader of the troupe) crouched down and looked at the teen.

"Does it hurt? Huh? That's what interests me most. You look like you're in pain...but what if it's up here? In your head?"

The teen comforted his stomach, shaking with fear.

"I don't know what you mean..."

I heard the crouched man laugh again as he rose from his position to look down on him once more.

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about...Let's see how many times we can kick you until you can't feel anymore? Call it 'scientific curiosity'."

The teen looked terrified at the prospect. But, before he could say anything in protest, the two big men started to kick him in different places. You could hear him screaming for a short time, but soon it fell silent. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There was no positive spin I could put on this in my head or no funny narration I could caption this with. This was sheer brutality on their part. I'd never seen anything like it before, I'd only ever heard about it in rumor! I didn't think Third Banders were capable of this! It was at this moment that I realised how implicitly racist I'd been in narrating them like a nature documentary. Because it was a completely different environment, a jungle, where anyone will do anything to stay alive. Basic social Darwinism. The survival of the fittest. And, sadly, this young boy didn't seem to be high on the food chain.

After about a minute and a half of solid kicking, the leader called them back. They looked at their victim before leaving him be to rot. I looked again at the young teen who seemed to just lie there, almost like he was sleeping. After a few more moments, I came out of the shadows and walked right up to the fence where I gazed upon him much more. I stood there in shock as I looked at the result of their wild and ferocious attack. My faith in humanity as a race broke at this point.

How could one human do this to another? But then I remembered the social Darwinism. Of course one could. I'd also forgotten, being in my cosy little bubble, that humans could be a brutal people. To be honest, I still don't know why I was surprised. I think it was the fact I'd seen it rather than hearing about it. Seeing is believing.

"Hey...can you hear me?"

I know it seemed ridiculous to ask, but I just wanted to check he was ok in case he wasn't dead. But I didn't get an answer. I asked one more time but still to no avail. He was gone. But I still couldn't believe what I'd seen. I'd never seen anything quite like that in my life. It just showed how different our lives were to theirs. Nothing like that ever happened in our area. It was unheard of. You had some domestics occasionally but not gangland warfare!

I looked at the teen one last time before I turned around and went back to whence I came. I couldn't shift the guilt of not getting involved sooner for the entire walk home or the rest of that night. I was quiet for most of the evening before Freya finally asked me what was wrong with me. She too was shocked when I told her.

"What have I told you about that wretched fence? Time and time again I tell you not to go near it because you never know what could happen! Promise me you won't go there again?"

I knew that she meant well, but maybe this time she was right. I could've died that day. Thankfully I didn't. But next time I might not have been so lucky. So I knew she was right deep down. And, to be honest, it was probably just as well.

Because, next time, the other side of the fence would come to me...

Nightmare Reactions

I think of some weird stuff when I'm walking back from town

It dawned on me when I was coming back from town that I haven't had a memorable nightmare since coming to Winchester. Which I find good. Because nightmares are bad. Hence why they are titled as such. But I was thinking about how people react to nightmares generally and how they all differ.

For example, when I have a nightmare, I wake up aggressively hyper-ventilating. So I can only assume I'm a quiet sufferer and toss about a bit while breathing heavily while what happens happens. While my mother screams like a banshee while she's having you. She's very loud, often waking me up when I'm back in Dorset. Numerous times I've had to go into her room to wake up. At which point she too hyper-ventilates slightly while re-adjusting to the 3am time that she's re-entered the waking world at before asking my why the hell I woke her up. (Except for one time when she hugged me the moment she saw me because I died or something).

But it's weird. I've never understood dreams and nightmares completely.

I know I'm not the only person this happens to, but sometimes I'll have a dream of something so mundane and think nothing of it, then a short time later, that exact event (or at least an uncanny variation) happens in reality. It drives me insane because I'll see it in my head and then it'll happen. I had a conversation last night in my kitchen that happened in a dream almost word for word. (I scared myself by mouthing my flatmate's exact response as she said it).

So I don't understand it. Because sleep is a messed up thing. You can have nightmares, dreams and lots of other stuff can happen to!

I read an article recently about a man who has something called "sleep sex" where he'll make love to his wife in the middle of the night while still fast asleep and have no recollection of the event in the morning. And more and more people appear to be getting this strange affliction.

I think I must have some variation of this strange thing after a strange event that happened on a school trip to Barcelona 4 years ago.

The basic background to the story is that I was sharing a hotel room with my friend Ben who, at the time, was in a relationship with a rather strange young woman. We in separate beds but they were pushed together in order to accord the other two people who we were sharing with. But we were in beds next to each other.

One night, as we were settling down to bed, Ben was texting this young woman back in England (as lovers do). And as I was falling asleep, Ben tapped me on the shoulder and said:

"By the way, thanks again for last night. I wouldn't have understood it without you!"

I said that it was ok and turned back over and shut my eyes. As I did, I realised that I actually had no idea what Ben was referring to. I asked him what he referred to and he said "the text". I still had no idea.

Ben then explained that he'd received a text at 3am the previous night from his girlfriend and that it worried him. So he woke me up to help him understand what was being said and to offer suggestions on how to deal with it.

To this day, I still do not remember this incident ever happening.

I don't disbelieve it happened, but the only explanation that I can think of is that I was still fast asleep when I was assisting Ben but I appeared to be awake and acting normally. Much like the sleep sex thing.

We got into an argument over the issue at the time because he didn't believe me when I said I didn't remember the text. The argument was left after I said "If I remembered it, I'd be able to tell you what was in the text word for word, and I can't!"

Weird.

But I'll never understand dreams. There was also a time where I dreamt that I'd grown up in Cardiff and not Dorset and that my life in Cardiff was the real life and this life was the dream. But that'd take too long to explain.

Maybe in another post.

But aren't dreams weird?

How do you react to dreams or nightmares?

Until next time!

Ducks By The Lake [Part Two: The Rat-Eaters]

It's never too late to change something...

Prison was a breeze. It always was back then. It's amazing crime levels remained constant to be perfectly honest with you. You got half an hour's exercise a day, 3 square meals (sometimes literally in the shape of a square) and you got time to socialize. I don't see what's wrong with it personally. Not that I'd like to have stayed longer or anything because I wouldn't. I did want another job after I came out. Society was judgmental enough as it was without having a major criminal record next to my name. It's not something I needed really but I still got it.

But it gave me time to reflect on what I'd done. Which sounds really cliched I know, and it also gave me time to think about what was up with those freaking droids and what they were planning. You have to remember that I didn't know then what I know now so anything that happened consequently was beyond my control and beyond the realms of my knowledge at this point. But still I thought away as much as I could. Why did the Governments bring in these robots anyway? Why did they put them into every job sector? And why would they phase out their own species at a higher expense than that of keeping humans on?

Well, maybe that was it. Money. That's what it always comes down to isn't it? Maybe the fat cats and decision makers brought in the robots so they could lay off the human staff and live off the exponential profits they'd make. Why pay a robot? It doesn't need to eat or drink and it doesn't need any kind of amenities at all. That definitely seems the most logical but it's also further from the truth than anything else I could've come up with. That would only work if the general public had no money or provisions in order to keep them and their families alive and satisfied. Perhaps, considering you might be reading this far in the future for history coursework or something, I should remind you about the state of the society I occupied at this point in time...

It was a simple yet mundane existence. As I've said before, humanity was gradually becoming obsolete. The robots were taking the jobs little by little and we, as humans, had nothing else to do except watch it happen! No-one worked. Except in jobs that involved water. Because, for all the technology humans had developed by the turn of the century, the robots could not cope with being underwater. You couldn't have a robot lifeguard at a swimming pool or at a beach for instance as the chips and stuff inside it would fry. You also couldn't have robot ski instructors as the snow would melt on them if they fell over and scramble their parts and circuits. The only liquid they could be safe around was oil, like the cartoons they used to show on television centuries ago. Because they needed oil to operate. It's funny because, like those cartoons, the robots were of a crude design. The aesthetics of a standard robot wasn't something to marvel at or coo over. It's was just, for lack of a better word, basic. The only complex things about them were the data cores they had in their positronic brains.

Each robot that was made was given a primary function in order to make it useful. One robot in one part of a factory could be specifically conditioned to be a lumberjack while another robot in a room across the complex could be programmed to become a receptionist. It had that function and that function alone during work hours but, outside of work hours, it could act like a normal human. They'd go to football matches, school concerts, even to the pub. (Though they couldn't drink alcohol you understand, so they'd be given an empty bottle and pretend to drink out of it in order to fit in with the humans around them). Every single robot in the world had a purpose which, by the time they became popular and widespread, was more than any human had.

So, what did WE do during the day? Well, while the robots went off and did their 9-5, we did anything. It was a complete mess. The children went to school, (which is frankly odd to me because why send the kids to get an education if the robots are going to have the jobs anyway?), the women just did little odd jobs around the house and wherever they were needed and the men just did what they could. (Although this usually meant ending up at a pub or a golf course or something just wasting money).

Money came in from the central Government as a never ending severance package/benefit/commodity and food was rationed in order to accommodate the fact that every family in a certain band was getting a set income. There were 3 "bands" set up that you and your household were placed in according to the amount of income you were receiving before your replacement. There was Band 1, which normally consisted of the highest earning families in the country who earned copious amounts of money like CEOs or Politicians, Band 2 consisted of what people in the 20th and 21st centuries would refer to as the "middle class" and Band 3 were the ones who received the lowest amount and/or lived off some kind of Government benefit in order to survive.

Food was rationed according to the bands as well as other stuff like entertainment packages and luxury items like sofas or gadgets. The people in Band 1 got the most food and luxuries while Band 3 got the least. This was mostly due to the fact that the people in Band 1 were now seen as a major target market for various different companies who wanted people to buy their banal shit in order to occupy themselves in the boredom of day to day life. Despite the changing shape of the world, the form of human hierarchy remained more or less the same. With the exception that the Bands were also segregated into different area. People in Band 1 were in one part of a place, Band 2 in another and Band 3 in the slums.

People from Band 1 and Band 2 could interact but Band 3 had to remain right where they were and weren't allowed to associate themselves with anyone above their own standing. Well, why should they? The people in Band 3 were all thieves and money-grabbing benefits bastards who expected everyone else to pay for their luxuries rather than earning it themselves. Why should they mix with the upper echelons of society when they come from a whole different gene pool? No. You couldn't have the cretins and thieves mixing with the elite and right. It was unheard of!

I belong in Band 2. I'm from a "middle class" family. And I want to make it clear now that I never agreed with the popular opinion of the Third Banders. (That was the colloquial term for them. Just like I'm a Second Bander. Although, strangely, those in Band 1 weren't called First Banders as you might imagine. They were called Peaks. Like they'd reached the peak of a mountain because they'd worked all their lives to get to where they were in society. Which, obviously, wasn't always true). You'd have thought that, with the robots taking all the jobs, that the perception of Third Banders would change because, then, everyone was getting some form of benefit. But no. The Peaks still looked down on Third Banders as animals and insects. So did many Second Banders. But I didn't. I never believed it. (I was originally a Third Bander. And I worked my way up to Band 2. As did my wife, Freya). Despite what the popular media would have you believe.

Oh yes. The media. If it wasn't the Central Government or the big businesses who ruled the country, it was the media. The media was as it's always been; the happy medium between the ruling classes and the Banders. Telling us what was happening in the world and, ultimately, shaping the way we perceived it. (Because everything you see on television's correct right?) But it did more than that. It also reminded people in society where their places were within it. The Peaks remained at the very top telling us what to say, what to think and what to believe, the Second Banders remained in the middle ground and enjoyed a mediocre existence and the Third Banders were at the very bottom. The diseased. The rat-eaters. The undesirables. The people who shouldn't really be alive, but are allowed to live by the Peaks.

That was the scariest thing about the society I lived in. The Peaks could change their mind at any moment and cull the Third Banders. It's been talked about numerous times in the popular media and in Government. But, luckily for the Third Banders, the robots that were now in charge did not wish to pursue an openly Nazi-esque eugenics policy. But the issue would come up again from time to time.

"Is it time we eradicated all Third Banders?" - 'Peak Mail' (19th November 2112)

"The only destiny for them is death". - 'The Second Bander' (30th July 2113)

"Is it time to initiate Protocol 198 and end their misery?" - 'British Daily Press' (18th January 2114)

These were only some of the headlines banded about in the media regarding the issue. People would openly discuss it, sometimes even taunt the Third Banders with the prospect, without any remorse or thought as to what they were saying. No-one cared if they upset a Third Bander. They probably didn't understand what you were saying anyway, with the being so uneducated and everything.

But what if this was a ruse? Maybe the media were distracting us with the Third Banders because there was a much bigger issue at hand? A more controversial one? Something hidden? The robots ran the papers now and had complete control over what the nation could see or read. And would they be prepared to hide their own agenda away from human eyes? What if the Third Bander debates were just a cover for something more sinister? Because it's a well known tactic. Control the media, control the people.

What if they had us right where they wanted us?

Maybe they did...

Original criminal record picture adapted from: http://jmjmad1.deviantart.com/art/OC-Police-Profile-Blank-Meme-339342166

The Double-Edged Sword [Story-Time]

The (kind of) tragic true(ish) story of a young(ish) woman who gave into her darker(ish) side...(ish)...

It's sad when you see someone so young give into the darker side of their nature. And no story is more tragic than that of a young woman named Sammy.

She was an ordinary girl from a small Dorset town who had high hopes and aspiration of going to a far off uni to study psychology and try to help those with mental problems to come to grips with their condition. But at a much cheaper hourly rate.

She loved her family, she loved her friends. Most of the time. And she had much fun with both of them. Going on numerous holidays to the North of Wales and, sometimes, even as far as the city of angels, Los Angeles. 

She liked to tell stories of her many adventures in the form of a diary as well as illustrate them through the divisive Facebook application, 'Bitstrips'. Here she could be whoever she wanted to be. Whether that be a young woman having normal adventures with her friends, or a quirky character who managed to somehow download an app that could concuss her friends one by one.

One day, one of her closest friends (we'll call him Joshua), also went onto bitstrips and they made wonderful characters. Some in which included various misadventures that were reminiscent of an episode of Doctor Who. In a number of single frame strips, the pair got captured by a robot knight and was put in a torture chamber until Joshua could figure a way out before being invaded by a red hot poker held by a disgruntled medieval dwarf. (You know, as is usual with medieval torture chambers. It's there in the history books if you look hard enough). 

But one day, it was all too much to bear. The comics got stranger and stranger until, eventually, Joshua made a joke about Sammy being a psychopath. Sammy, being of a somewhat sarcastic nature, laughed off the jibe. As it was the kind of remark that Joshua, and most of her other friends, would often make in some kind of jest when they were together in reality.

The joke lasted most of the night in some way shape or form and fun was had by many. Including Sammy. Who acted offended but really wasn't. She was happy to join in the fun even if it was at some cost to her dignity. Actually, I'm not sure if it went that far but I'm allowed a little artistic license with the story*.

As night turned to day, the joke remained lodged in Sammy's brain for days afterwards. And that was when it happened. Her psyche started to trick her and she fell victim to her own deeply buried passion. Her deeply buried passion...FOR MURDER AND ALL THINGS PSYCHOPATHIC. (Except what Norman Bates did in Psycho. That's just freaking weird. She'd never go that far...yet...)

Sammy wrestled day and night for a week trying to ignore her deep feelings for psychopathy and tried to bury the urges further than they were before. But the spark was there. The fire lit. And it was more out of control than Katie Hopkins' Twitter comments. (That woman is such a *censored*)

But ignoring her feelings only made them worse. They started to manifest themselves in everything she did on social media. But most of all, her bitstrips. First, in subtle ways, but soon the changes she was going through became more visible to the rest of the world. Her bitstrips got more and more violent and evidently disturbing. Some were made by friends continuing the joke. But some, like the picture with Joshua in the fire and Joshua being taken away by armed thugs while Sammy counts her precious moolah, started to show just how dark Sammy's dark side truly was...

By this point, the only thing holding her back from actually killing someone were the essays she was receiving on a constant basis from her, perhaps omniscient, university lecturers. Perhaps they saw a hidden danger and decided to pacify it? (Although I don't know her course that well. So it was likely just admin).

But this temporary pacification would not stop Sammy from posting disturbing Bitstrips. Some people laughed it off, believing it to be a joke. But little did they know that, as she read the comments of their ill-fated misconceptions to her true purpose, she was manically laughing. Plotting who would be first on her to-do list. Acting them out and amending her plans via Bitstrips. People thought it was entertainment. If they only knew it was real...

First on her list was her friend, Tabby. Someone who lived within a 45 minute train ride of Sammy and adored her with every fibre of her being**. The picture went up of Sammy making a witty parody of the popular Stephen King/Stanley Kubrick film 'The Shining' and, for the most part, Tabby found it funny. She falsely believed it was entertainment. Silly Tabby. Little did she know the truth of what was about to befall her. Because, like in the picture, Sammy had an axe to grind...

Next on her list was her friend Julia. A friend who had recently moved to university and did nothing but support Sammy when she could and often make her laugh with various comments involving curry and rabbits. But nothing could stop Sammy's maniacal side now. She was unstoppable. Again, like Katie Hopkins' Twitter. 

The warning of Julia's place on the list, may look sweet, but it's the eyes. The eyes give everything away. She had dangerous plans for poor Julia. It was only a matter of time before Sammy's fantasies would become truth. And poor Julia, sweet little Julia, who attended board game club and went rambling*** with other uni students, would be on the receiving end of Sammy's new found horror show.

Next on her list would be a total stranger. For no reason other than to put the fear of *insert deity here* into the man who made all this bloodshed and stuff possible. Her true target. Joshua. She'd be sure to make sure Joshua would find the body, but not suspect that Sammy had finally given into temptation. Because she didn't want him to suspect a thing when she finally visited him.

Soon, she visited the young man who taunted her about becoming a psychopath and started to put her plan into motion. A body was found in the lift of Joshua's flat block. Sammy did her best to revive the victim but, she was unsuccessful. Joshua, although slightly surprised, brought it. He didn't suspect a thing. Sammy's plan was working...

Finally, months of planning on Sammy's part was about to pay off. She would finally kill the man who first called her a psychopath and let the idea fester in her head for months. The man who awakened what was deep within her all along. The father of the newly created personality that Sammy had now adopted. And he had no idea what was coming.

It's ironic that Joshua's death should happen last. Because, it was always a kind of a double-edged sword. Because, if you tell someone something often enough, they start to believe it. Joshua jokingly called Sammy a psychopath once too often. And she'd snapped. And how fitting it was that Sammy was now about to exercise her beliefs on the man who instigated them in the first place. He was always the intended victim. She just needed the practice first. She'd often fantasized of ways to kill her old friend Joshua. But the moment was much sweeter than any plan she'd concocted in her head.

Finally, in the middle of the night, as they shared a bed (because Joshua's room was way too small and neither could agree on who should sleep on the floor), she looked on him sweetly. Before remembering why she was in Winchester in the first place. And, without hesitation, she committed her final act as a psychopath. Joshua didn't even know what was happening...

THE END

*This is stretching the truth a little. I've used a LOT of artistic license with this story.

**As many as one can spare for an old friend.

***I'm not actually sure what 'rambling' is. I thought it was part of a song by Led Zeppelin but hey, I've been known to be wrong. If someone (preferably Julia) could fill me in I'd be very grateful.

Note from the writer

I should probably point out that this is a satire. None of this has actually happened. Yet. But it's based on a little joke between my friend Sammy and I. I can't even remember how it started but it's one of those close friend jokes that often comes up. I call her a psychopath and she joins in with those who remind me that I'm losing my hair. So it's all good.

But story-time is over. Jokes aside, there is a moral to this post. 

In the story, I said that "if you tell someone something often enough, they start to believe it". This is very true. If you call someone something, or tell them that they are something, for long enough, they will start to believe it. And in some cases, they become it because that's what they've been taught to believe by those around it. 

If you tell someone they're worthless and constantly remind them as such, they'll start to believe it themselves big time. If you tell someone who's got ginger hair that they have no soul or aren't human (as is sadly commonly said) then they'll start to believe it.

Even though I'm not bullying Sammy when I call her a psychopath, I'm still worried that one day she'll snap and actually murder in my sleep like she does in the story. But we're friends. And we both know it's a joke because, as you can see from many of the pictures, she's joined in with it and has, in many instances, re-started the joke. But  many others do not see things as a joke so easily. Sometimes it goes beyond a joke and becomes something serious. Something MUCH more serious.

As someone who has been bullied many times in my life, I know how it feels to be ridiculed for something as, sadly, so many others do. And I can't believe that bullying is still a problem in the 21st Century. I'm sure that the people who read this blog are stand-up people but there are still people out there in the big bad world who continue to think it's funny to try and belittle someone for the stupidest of reasons.

Bullying is not acceptable. It never has been and it never will be. 

And, who knows, maybe one day the people who have been subjected to it might just snap...


Also, in order to make what I've written more balanced, these are two of my favourite pictures of Sammy and I together in order to show you that she's not really a psycho in real life. And, just like all my friends, I'm not sure what I'd do without her...

Come back tomorrow for Part Two of my brand new political/sci-fi story 'Ducks By The Lake'.