Crimson Dawn

Only when the coastline of Vega Prime came into view could the people on the cargo ship finally feel certain that the world government wouldn’t sink them at sea. They had reached their destination, but the reality that awaited was the opposite of all their hopes, the boy thought as he looked toward the harbor. He glanced sideways at Mirela, wondering if she felt the same. She gripped the railing tightly with both hands, gazing in silence at the foreign land they were approaching, steadily, at a few knots. Unstoppably. As if the sight filled her with an indescribable dread. There was no going back now. No returning to her home. She watched what lay ahead on the vast peninsula off the coast of Vega Prime. Taking it all in. Trying to accept it. A carpet of poverty covered the entire peninsula. The young sun rose in the east, casting the shadows of enormous industrial plants and smoking steelworks over thousands of slum shacks and makeshift tent camps. Entire neighborhoods were shrouded in the shadow of the factories, as if still trapped in night. For the inhabitants, time moved differently. Day and night were dictated by the towering industrial complexes above them, a symbol of how production ruled over their lives. Yet even the massive factories shrank into insignificance next to the monstrous steel wall, looming like a distant mountain range in the hazy morning light: a colossal barrier separating the refugee district from the rest of Vega Prime. Airways passed through the wall, and higher up, it disappeared into the low-hanging clouds, allowing the smog to rain down over the world of misery below.

The sea breeze blew across the deck, whipping the boy’s long hair into his face. The wind reeked of garbage, rot, and the acrid stench of burning plastic. Squinting, he searched Mirela’s face for traces of feelings he couldn’t find in himself when he thought about the future.

"What do you think awaits us there?" he asked.

Mirela’s gaze was fixed on the horizon. She gave a joyless laugh. "We gave the people on this ship a glimpse of hope," she said. "We poured all our energy into making them feel better. But it was all for nothing."

He leaned over the railing, staring at the churning water for a while. The sea surrounding the megalopolis was dark, and a shimmering film of oil spread across its wave-creased surface. The settlers had once filled the oceans and rivers of the New World with fish. Here, they floated belly-up in lifeless clusters on the water.

*****

All those seeking refuge who had once lived outside the world government’s jurisdiction were placed in crude shelters; many lived under tarps. Over six million people crammed onto the peninsula known as Adenaaru, a place that both accepted and excluded all refugees. Only after years of rigorous identity checks could people hope to be recognized as citizens of Vega Prime. Until then, they were left with the lowest of tasks.

Adenaaru was a vast, isolated prison, cut off from the outside world with no access to the infonet. Lex met people who had lived here for over twenty years because no one could verify who they were or whether they posed a threat. Adenaaru was a smog-filled center of anger and despair, rage at having escaped lives filled with death, poverty, suffering, and violence, only to end up in a new one filled with insignificance and filth, again with violence and suffering, with poverty made even worse by the lack of family and home. Some were willing to ruin another life for a scrap more of their own comfort. Some did it for their families; others lashed out, eager to destroy because their world had been broken for as long as they could remember. Those who had fled war and violence lived here in even greater fear than back home, as if this were their destiny, as if mercy was never meant for them.

On his way home from work in a canning factory, Lex took a detour through an alley flanked by towering stacks of container homes. Thick bundles of electric cables hung across the narrow spaces, and some residents had hung their rags over the wires to dry. The stench of the sewers rose from beneath manhole covers. Between two dumpsters, he noticed the urine-stinking corpse of a homeless man. Every night on his way home, he had seen the man crouched in that corner, slowly decaying among the trash. No one paid him any attention, as though he were just another fixture of the neighborhood, a familiar landmark in this dark part of town.

The corpse lay there for several more weeks until, one day, the overflowing dumpsters were finally emptied, and the body was gone, too. Lex had no doubt they had loaded him with the trash into the garbage truck.

*****

One evening, as he tried to call Mirela out for their weekly drinking bash at a nearby dive, a man held a knife to his throat, stole his week’s meager earnings, and demanded his boots. Refugees were paid partly in coins like back on Limbo and partly in whatever goods they needed most. For three weeks, Lex worked with scraps of cloth wrapped around his feet until he finally received a pair of worn-out sneakers. After work, he got into a fight over Mirela with a worker from a distillery. When the man hit the ground, three of his friends jumped Lex, knocking out two of his teeth, breaking his nose and four ribs. Half-dead, they threw him out into the street, where a passing group of stranded souls, by chance kindhearted, carried him to a makeshift military infirmary.

One early morning, Mirela came to visit him. She brought a bar of chocolate, which he couldn’t chew, so he slid a piece between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, letting it melt.

"You risked your life just because that guy called me a…" She paused, still too proud to say anything harsh, even in this dump.

"You didn’t deserve that," he replied.

"I wasn’t even there."

"Still," he said, "you didn’t deserve it."

*****

He was discharged from the infirmary long before he was fully healed. His nose set crooked, his jaw swollen from the missing teeth, his bandaged chest aching with every breath; yet he worked fifteen hours or more daily at the canning factory. In a white paper coverall and hairnet, he stood in line with other refugees at the conveyor belt, trimming lab-grown muscle tissue from sheep. Sometimes clusters of bristly hair or odd animal teeth would grow unexpectedly from the in-vitro meat, and he had to slice them off. He placed three pieces of lab meat into each can, which high-precision machines drenched in oil and sealed shut. On the lid of the final product was a drawing of a smiling, blissful sheep with the label:

Brave New Lamb

Licensed by SnackBite Inc.

*****

Mirela and Lex arranged their single day off each month to fall on a Wednesday. It was late afternoon, the last sunny day before a major storm front, a harbinger of the long autumn rainy season, moved in. They’d been walking along the ochre-colored part of the Cordwell River for a while now, tainted with mercury from the nearby chemical industry in Adenaaru.

Adenaaru was the only district bordering the massive landfill to the east of the city. The dump kept growing, already twice the size of Ataris, the largest district in Vega Prime. The only aircraft crossing over Adenaaru were enormous waste freighters, which opened their bellies to dump thousands of tons of household and electronic waste onto the towering mountains of trash; day by day, they grew.

One such garbage freighter flew overhead as they sat down on a step near a withering riverbank and shared a thermos of water.

"In a week, I’ll get the decision about my residency permit," Miri said.

"You got a good feeling about it?"

She nodded. "I think so," she said. "Since I can speak your language, I’ve got an advantage."

"So can I. But they still haven’t told me when I can get out of here."

From here, he had a clear view of the waste incineration plants. The mile-high plumes of smoke looked like small, smoldering fires against the blue sky from a distance. Despite the distance, the sickly, rancid stench of rotting food and garbage reached them, thickening the air across the entire peninsula.

They were silent for a while, until Mirela said, "I’ve been thinking for weeks about what I want to say to you. I’ve had the words ready for days. But now that the moment’s here, I don’t know where to start."

"If it’s about us again, then..."

"It isn’t. Not directly, anyway. It’s more about us as an organization."

"The Crimson Dawn?"

"Yes," she said. "When we were sitting on the cliffs back in Rykuunh... you told me that you believed everything that happens has a purpose. I still think you were right."

"And... what am I supposed to take from that?"

She looked at him. "My whole life, I thought I belonged with the rebels. As a kid, I swore loyalty to the Crimson Dawn. But I don’t belong with them. I realized that on the ship."

He studied her face, wondering what might have changed her mind. He’d always thought she was the most loyal member of the DFLL.

"Just two days ago, there was an attack on the…" she searched for the right word.

"On the administration office," he finished.

"Yes. Nine people were killed."

"But the Crimson Dawn attacked the TC, not people who had nothing to do with it. Not like the World Union did in Ronkondaar or Rykuunh, all across the Ognons District. Just dropping bombs on innocent people, on people who weren’t rebels, just locals living their lives."

"On civilians," Mirela said. "But still. You worked most of your life for the TC. Imagine if people like you were in that office... people who wanted no part of it."

"There probably weren’t," he said.

"How can you be so sure? You told me about your friend, the one your commander executed right in front of you. What was his name?"

The boy hesitated. "Ron," he said, "and he wasn’t my friend."

"You told me he was just like you. That he wanted no part of this."

The river washed trash up onto the banks. He saw refugees rinsing their clothes in the muddy, toxic water, saw all the world’s misery concentrated in this tiny spot. It wasn’t only people from Luvanda in the refugee district; there were also those from the districts bordering Vega Prime, where the TC had declared war on the locals—or, as the corporation put it, had 'liberated' them from the oppression of the resistance.

"And what are you going to do now?" he asked.

"When I get out of Adenaaru, I’m going to pick up exactly where I left off on the ship. I’ll do what you’ve always told me... I’ll follow my purpose and help people."

Lex watched the dirty river water churning for a while. Then he looked up at Mirela. "You want to leave the rebels? Then leave them. You won’t get an opportunity like this again."

Thoughtfully, he traced the scar on his right hand. In Luvanda, the DFLL had cut the tracking chip out from under his skin. It made him stateless, just as free as Mirela. The thought occurred to him: they could both build a life outside of all this violence, away from the war between corporations and the resistance, a life in freedom.

Wasn’t that what he’d always wanted?

She looked into the distance, shaking her head slightly. "Lex," she began, "in Luvanda, they tried to turn you into a killer. They wanted you to shoot your friend, Ron."

The boy said nothing, lowering his gaze.

"I want you to know it wasn’t your fault. What happened to him there… Bealauc and Arif left you no choice. Tell me, Lex, are those the good guys? Do they sound like it to you?"

For a long time, he stared down at the dirty ground at his feet, scuffing at a tear on the stone with his boot, leaving a dark mark.

"I’d rather talk about something else," he muttered.

"I understand that all too well," Mirela said. "The ghosts of the past are the nightmares of our present. I know that feeling. I know it all too well. You’ve always done the right thing, Lex. Even when you had no choice, you always made the right decisions. Neither the TC nor the Crimson Dawn could change who you are. But for how much longer? How long can you stay strong? I’m begging you, Lex, let’s escape this conflict between the corporations and the rebels. This is our last chance."

"It’s too late, Miri."

The low afternoon sun cast a golden light across their faces. Lex squinted into the sunlight, studying his friend, sitting close enough beside him that their shoulders touched.

"You couldn’t have known what devastation the Black Orb would bring to the people," she said. "The war in Luvanda... it’s not your fault. You were used, Lex. Your whole life, people have used you."

He looked at her, then down at the ground, saying nothing.

"Your past is one more reason to come with me. Whoever that girl is, the one you’re holding onto, the one you want to see again at any cost... you shouldn’t. It’s the wrong decision. You should choose this path with me. Your heart beats in time with mine."

The boy looked out over the sea, where, in the distance, the pale-blue waste mountains of the megacity loomed.

"Don’t you think so?" she asked.

But he couldn’t give her an answer. He couldn’t go with her.

"You were my purpose," she said. "You were part of it, a chapter on the path I had to take to find the truth. When we were on the ship, helping people... I knew that’s what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Helping others is my calling. I want to save people, not add more pain and violence to the world through war."

For a long time, they did nothing but stare toward the distant plumes of smoke. The enormous waste mountains lined the horizon. In the distance, a fleet of new refugee ships appeared as silhouettes.

"I want to leave the rebels and live a free life, and I’m asking you one last time, Lex, isn’t that what you want too? Freedom, I mean."

"Yes," he finally said. "But where you stand now... I was standing there myself a few years ago. And now I know that freedom, justice, and peace are things you have to fight for."

She nodded, but it was the kind of nod that showed she’d expected this answer, not that she agreed with him. She didn’t, and he knew it.

"You’re making a huge mistake."

"I have to do this, Miri."

She studied him closely. "You don’t have to. You want to."

"Yeah."

"Will you betray me?"

"I won’t betray anyone." Lex rubbed his nose. "Least of all you."

Mirela was silent for a while. At first, he thought he saw something like relief on her face, but what would have brought her that? Because he wouldn’t betray her? If it was relief, it was soon overshadowed by something dark that came over her expression as she turned away from the afternoon sun, gazing out over the murky ocean. A damp sheen covered her brown eyes. Then, suddenly, he realized he’d been mistaken; it wasn’t relief at all. It was certainty.

*****

The night before her release, they went together to a bar that, by closing time, was empty except for the two of them. Lex emptied his third glass while she was still nursing her first. Outside, the rain fell almost sideways, lashing against the buildings in violent gusts, streaming down the windows. From one of them, the boy watched the empty street. The storm blew trash from an overflowing dumpster, scattering it across his line of sight. He took one last, long gulp when she suddenly asked, "Have you ever thought that maybe everything you believe is right might actually be wrong?"

He looked at her and lowered his glass. He had no idea how to answer.

The next morning, he walked with her to the high-security gates of Adenaaru. Armed guards surrounded the large gates, and mercenaries manned guns on the elevated watchpoints, with armored vehicles stationed on the ground to ensure the refugees wouldn’t dare to riot or attempt an escape from the district without permission.

Some distance from the checkpoint, they stopped. She hugged him tightly, and he felt her tear-streaked face against his cheek. He only told her to take care of herself, though he wished he could say so much more. She promised and added a quick goodbye that had probably taken more out of her than anything else in the world.

It was just a feeling, but as he watched her walk toward the exit, he couldn’t shake the belief that she’d turn back and look at him one last time. But she didn’t. They never saw each other again.