New Reality 2: Justice: New Reality, #2

By Michael Robertson

Nirvana. A city of opportunity and excess; where a person's rights and freedoms are staunchly protected... unless you're from the Estate. 

Those from the estate live in abject poverty and are victimised by all of those around them for entertainment. 

In Nirvana, having a child out of wedlock is a one-way ticket to the Estate. 

Marie has hidden her pregnancy from those around her where she works for the corporation contracted by justice department to watch criminals logged into New Reality. But something isn't right about the way the Rixon Corporation is being run. 

If Marie can uncover the corruption before the justice department does, keeping her mouth shut could be worth the cost of a marriage certificate. 

But if she gets it wrong, not only will she end up having to raise a child on the Estate, but she'll face the wrath of one of the most powerful corporations in all of Nirvana… 

New Reality is a science fiction dystopian novel where the female protagonist does all she can to survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Robertson
• Release date: Nov 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519913296

Book preview

Chapter 1

Marie walked over to the kitchen window and pressed the frosting button. As the glass turned cloudy in front of her, she undid her corset. It was front lacing, so no problem there, but when she pulled it off, it was sticky against her clammy skin. If she'd wanted to preserve the garment, she would have worn something beneath it. At some point, she'd be too pregnant to wear it any longer. Once she'd passed that point, she never wanted to see the damn thing again.

She stared down at her potbelly and wondered how much longer she could she do this for. At present, the corset was doing a good job at hiding her ever-increasing bump from her boss. Whenever they spoke, his eyes dropped to her tits. She could probably be on fire from the waist down and he wouldn't notice. At seventeen weeks pregnant, it was relatively easy to cover up, but she had no idea what she would do when her stomach got too big.

The cold hand on her bare back made her jump.

Evening, darling.

Melting into his touch, she moved backwards, craving his embrace and the feel of his skin against hers. But hugs weren't Frankie's thing. Sex had been off the menu for quite some time too. In the last six months, they'd done it once—seventeen weeks ago. When he pulled his hand away, a cold space was left where it had been.

After he'd walked around in front of her, his eyes lingered on her breasts before moving down to her stomach. How's the baby?

Every time he asked, it made their plight more real and a lump rose in her throat. She took a deep breath, swallowed it back down and nodded. Despite fear eating away at her, she wasn't going to have an abortion, especially not in some backstreet butcher's. They'd find a way to make it work.

Frankie looked up, regarding her with his warm stare as he rubbed her upper arm. And how are you?

A slight burn stung her eyes and the world in front of her blurred. Not good. We had to terminate someone today.

Frankie's eyebrows rose in the middle and he scratched his unshaven chin. Jake? Was that the guy's name?

Marie nodded again.

How often do they terminate people?

Whenever they need to; if someone gets lost in a negative projection for too long, we have to end it for them. Once they go down that rabbit hole, there's no chance of them coming back. But you know what? Doug was laughing as he did it. He said it had been a while since it had happened and that I'd popped my cherry. She cleared her throat as she stared into space. He said it'd get easier, and that the first is always the hardest.

Maybe he's right?

You're agreeing with him?

The guy's a prick, we both know that, but he's been working in that company for years. Maybe he's right, I mean, terminating—

"Killing, Frankie; it's killing. Heat flushed Marie's face as she looked at her lover. Let's not dress it up so it makes it easier to end someone's life when New Reality doesn't work out for them. We have more humanity than that."

The only reply Frankie offered her was a frown.

Marie dropped her eyes to the floor and rubbed her face. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose it. It's just… I don't know how long I can stay there. I can't pretend I'm okay with killing people. She looked down at her belly. I don't know how long I can hide my pregnancy for. What if the stress I'm going through now permanently damages her?

Her?

"I don't know. I'm just not comfortable saying it. It sounds so cold. I have a person in my womb; a person I'm trying to grow. I want this baby to be healthy."

He grabbed both of her hands and his eyes stared deeply into hers. So do I, darling, more than anything.

Was he telling her the truth? Terminating this pregnancy wasn't an option for her, but she'd never given Frankie a choice. But you keep telling me I have to go to work.

A flicker of hurt shimmered across his face. "What else can we do? We can't afford to get married and we need all the money we can get. There's no point in you trying to get another job while you're pregnant. What's a couple more months? We need to stretch this out as long as we can."

While grinding her jaw, Marie balled her hands into fists and stared at him. That's easy for you to say. She let the tension go with a sigh. Arguing wasn't going to help the situation. In a few months' time, I'll have to strap myself up as tight as a drum to make sure I don't show. That could… The lump that rose in her throat choked her words off.

When Frankie pulled out a kitchen chair, the legs of it screeched over the laminate flooring. He nodded at it. Sit down.

Marie dropped into the seat and shivered, despite the July heat.

Frankie darted into the living room and returned with a blanket for her. He then pulled out another chair and sat opposite her. We've been through this so many times, Marie. With everyone on zero hours contracts, employers can cut our work any time they like.

Hot tears ran down her face. Maybe if I explained the situation to Doug, he'd let me stay on but give me a job somewhere else in the building.

"They won't give you a job anywhere else, Marie. Not now that you've seen someone terminated. When you took this job a few months back, they told you it was the last one you'd have for Rixon. They told you about the Secrecy Act and how you'd end up in court if you said anything. Hell, they'd probably hit us with thousands of credits' worth of legal bills just for having this conversation. The only way out of the control room is out of the front door with a letter from their solicitors, reminding you of your legally binding contract to keep your fucking mouth shut. Besides, Doug doesn't give a fuck about you. He's only showing you an interest because he wants to fuck you."

Everything Frankie was telling her was true, but Marie hated him for saying it. The reality of their situation hung over her like a dark cloud. She got it; she didn't need to hear it told so plainly. I could leave? I could keep the control room a secret?

Frankie turned away from her and stared at the frosted window in the kitchen. Crow's feet spread away from the corners of his eyes as if his thoughts were causing him pain. We have a good life here. His words were slow as if he were deliberately trying to hold his anger back. "I can't go back to living on the estate. You don't know what it's like there. If you leave work now, there's no way we'll have enough money to stay in this apartment. It'll be hard enough to keep this property if we have a child out of wedlock, let alone not having the money to afford the rent. We'll be living on the estate in a flash."

The dam holding her heart back collapsed and she started sobbing. With her shoulders bouncing, she stared past her modest bump at her lap as tears landed on her dark trousers. "I hate this traditional family law. What's the point of it anyway?"

Statistics! They looked at statistics and saw that kids from broken homes commit more crime. Rather than looking at the bigger social issues, they decided to do everything they could to discourage having bastard children.

But all they've done now is ensure that every bast— She paused and looked up. That wasn't a word she was prepared to use. —that every child born out of wedlock will become a criminal by placing them in a breeding ground for criminals.

Frankie raised his eyebrows and shrugged. And that was the policy of a moderate right wing government. Imagine what it'll be like in ten years' time with the fascists we have now. They'll probably start sterilising the poor.

They won't do that, Marie said.

Why not?

The poor take all the shitty jobs for little pay. They need workers to keep the city running.

They could encourage immigration.

And I think they will, Frankie, but only when they have to. To make Nirvana an appealing city to work in, they'll have to offer a reasonable wage to get people over here. Why would they do that before it was necessary? They currently have their pick of all the desperate souls on the estate.

When Frankie didn't reply, Marie shook her head and returned her gaze to her lap. There must be a way for us to avoid the estate.

Frankie gritted his teeth and spoke slowly. Marriage is the only other way. He looked up at the ceiling and drew a long sigh. I can't keep having this conversation, Marie.

Don't get cross with me.

He softened his tone and grabbed her hands. "I'm not cross with you, darling; I'm frustrated with the life we're forced to live by the ruling elite. They haven't got a fucking clue how things are. If we were married, we'd get all the help we needed. We could continue to live this cushy life. It wouldn't matter if your contract were terminated because the state would pay you a wage. But where will we get the twenty-five thousand credits we need to get married? We have three thousand. That's our rent for three months. For people like us, getting pregnant results in either a termination or a one-way ticket to the estate, and if we end up there, our child will have either killed someone or have been gang raped by the time they're fourteen."

You managed to avoid all of that.

I'm the exception. You can't base a plan on an outlier. Besides, my childhood was hardly good. I can't go back to that. I can't go back to drowning in poverty like I did before. I can't put our unborn child through it.

All of the strength had left Marie's body. If she tried now, she doubted she'd be able to stand. What if our landlord kicks us out when he finds out anyway?

At least we'll have some more money. The longer you work, the more likely it is that we can afford our medical bills. I don't want to try and deliver the baby on the sofa.

Although she took deep breaths, it did nothing for Marie's tightening chest and galloping heart. So I have no choice?

"We've had this conversation so many times in the last eight weeks. I can't force you to go to work, Marie. It kills me to see you struggling like this. But what can I do? The last time I worked in the corporate world, my anxiety got so bad I was scared to leave the house. I'm sorry, Marie, but I just can't do it. I need to stay employable on some level, and going back into corporate Nirvana will ruin me."

It wasn't fair; he got to do a job he loved while she went to hell every day. It was hard to force the words out. I'm not asking you to do that. I just want to find another way.

The laugh wasn't condescending; it was devoid of hope. There aren't any other ways with this government. If we're not married, we're scum. A traditional family and board meetings are the two things they value most. They set the rules, and if you don't fit into them, you end up on the estate. A distant stare washed over his face. Those places are like quicksand. As soon as we step into them, we'll be up to our necks before we know it.

If only she had more answers. There must be some solution they haven't come across yet.

Frankie put his arms around her and they touched foreheads. They were so close, she could smell garlic on his breath—she could smell everything with her pregnant nose.

I love you and our unborn child, Frankie said. I don't know what the answer is at the moment, but if you leave it with me, I'll find a way. I'll be more positive about it. There's always a way, right?

Marie let her weight rest against him. There was always a way. Whatever happened, they'd damn well find it.

Chapter 2

With shaking hands, Marie opened her locker. It was a large one and had far more storage space than she needed. Laying her bag down, she started shifting it around the empty space, purposely slow to avoid going to the control room.

Marie focused on her slow breaths. Anxiety was a familiar feeling before work, but having killed Jake yesterday, the panic that usually only sat in her abdomen had lifted up into her throat and felt like it was choking the life out of her. How long would it be before she had to terminate someone again? How did the others cope with it?

When Marie closed her locker door, she jumped when she saw one of her colleagues standing next to her. A tall man at over six feet, he had a shaved head and dark features. The dry smell of his aftershave complimented his broad shoulders and thick arms. It was like he sweated testosterone. Conforming to Rixon's strict policy, he stared straight ahead as if Marie wasn't there.

Other than Doug, she didn't know the names of any of her co-workers in the control room. All she was allowed to call this man was 'brother'—and that was only in an emergency.

The silence was one of the hardest things for Marie. Every day, she would sit in the control room with five other people and she wasn't allowed to say a word. By the time she got home to Frankie, she had so much backed up that she talked until they went to bed each night.

Cameras were mounted in each corner of the small locker room. After a quick glance at them, Marie looked at the floor and her colleague's shiny shoes. Did he enjoy his job? He was certainly turned out like he took it seriously. Had he had to terminate anyone yet? Of course, he had; that was life in the control room. How did he deal with it?

Then she saw him tap the foot closest to her—his left one—three times before pausing and then tapping it again. A flutter ran through her chest. It was a sign. Marie copied the pattern with her right foot in response.

After a few seconds, he did it again. Surely, he wanted to talk to her. It was his way of saying she wasn't alone. That he knew how she felt.

She entered the pass code that would secure her belongings, drew a deep breath, and looked across at his locker. As she stood there, she could almost feel the penetrative glare of the cameras’ lenses. It was like they knew she was about to commit a sin against the company, but she had to talk to someone.

One, two, three, she glanced across at him.

When he stared back, a frown crushing his brow, Marie's face dropped and she looked away. Shit! How could she be so stupid? He wasn't sending her a message; he was just tapping his foot.

Tension snapped through Marie's body when he slammed his locker door. This guy really wasn't interested in a conversation.

After he'd left the room, Marie looked at the cameras. The cold lenses stared back at her.

She faced her locker again as her vision blurred. The coldness of this place was too much. She needed to talk to someone about Jake. There must be someone in the control room prepared to break Rixon's rules.

Marie stared at her locker for a few minutes; surely, her colleague would be at his desk and set up already.

After wiping her eyes, she walked over to the locker room door. She pressed her face into the retina scanner; the smell of the man’s aftershave was still hanging around it. What had previously smelled like hope now bore the heavy kick of rejection.

Click. The light turned green and the door slid open, revealing the long sterile walkway leading to the control room.

No matter how many times she walked these corridors, the whiteness of the space dazzled her. The sharp bite of the air conditioning ran gooseflesh up her naked arms. The smell of bleach assaulted her sinuses and she screwed her face up. At least it banished the reek of him. With her body held tight by the corset, she continued walking.

The image of Jake lying on the floor of the bus ran through Marie's mind. It was clearly his lowest point during the time she'd been watching him. How long would it be before she had to do it all over again? Could she hide the next person for longer? Could she have given Jake more of a chance?

The booming laugh of her boss—Doug Rixon—cannoned down the corridor, disrupting her thoughts. Marie's hand shot to her beating heart and she paused for a moment to try and settle it. That man! If she never saw him again… she shook her head. What did it matter? He was just another part of this shitty existence.

With her shoulders clamped to her neck, she winced as she stepped around the next corner.

The smile on Doug's face was as wide as his fat head. He rubbed his hands together and then nudged the man he was with. Ah, there she is, the woman of the moment.

The vulgar man stood with one of the company's directors. There were so many, and they showed their faces so infrequently, Marie couldn't remember who he was. All she could do was force a smile and remain mute.

I was just telling Monty here about your eventful day yesterday. Doug grinned like a maniac as he threw her a heavy wink. It made Marie's skin crawl.

Monty nodded. Well done…

Marie.

Thank you. Well done, Marie. He looked at her cleavage and continued in a whisper, I'm told the first is always the hardest, but it gets much easier after that.

Like he's ever had to kill anyone that didn't deserve it; what the fuck would he know?

Don't worry about being overheard down here, Monty. Doug slapped him on the back and laughed again. As you know, we don't allow any unauthorised personnel in this area. Any ears that hear our conversation are tied tightly into our secrecy contract and they can be trusted. Hell, even if they can't be trusted, they still won't talk because our lawyers will destroy their lives in an instant.

That little routine was for Marie, not Monty. A sharp reminder that they needed to shut the fuck up, or else.

Of course, Dougie.

With a gentle shake running through her, Marie's throat tightened as she looked from one of the men to the other until Doug waved his hand at her in a shooing motion. You can go now.

Marie dropped her eyes to the floor and pulled her shirt away from her stomach as if her bump was visible. When the men didn't move out of her way, she slipped sideways through the tight gap created by the pair and headed for the control room.

Every step away from Doug and Monty helped her breathe more easily. By the time she reached the control room door, her heart rate had settled and she was breathing freely again.

Chapter 3

It was hard not to blink when the green bar of light ran across her eyes. No matter how many times she entered the control room, she'd still not mastered the retina scanner, and it often took her several attempts to get in. The light above the door remained red. Fuck it!

When she felt a hand on her back, Marie jumped and spun around. It was one of her colleagues. She was just coming off her lunch break too.

After beaming a warm smile at her, the petite, blonde woman pushed her face into the scanner, pressed the fingerprint pad, and let them both in.

It would have been so much easier to thank her, but Marie smiled instead. There were three cameras in the hallway watching them; even a smile was risky.

The air-conditioned room threw a frigid shawl around Marie. It was even colder in here than in the corridor. She shivered as she watched the door slide shut.

Of the six seats in the room, her sister's and her own were the only ones unoccupied.

Marie glanced at the man she'd reached out to that morning, and although he didn't look back, her cheeks flushed. Why had she even tried to talk to him? She had to be more careful in the future.

The chair creaked as she sat down on it, and she stared into space momentarily. After that, the only sound in the room was an occasional sneeze and fingers dancing over keyboards.

When she looked down at her desk, Marie lingered on her corset-enhanced cleavage. Before the pregnancy, she was a B cup; now she was already at a C. Whenever she put the corset on, it felt like it was lifting her tits to her neck, but Frankie assured her that wasn't the case. Whatever; all that mattered was that it hid her bump and prevented Doug from noticing her weight gain in other places.

There was a small fridge by Marie's workstation, which she removed a can of soda from. It had been weeks since she'd had any. The baby didn't seem to like it, but the cravings for the sweet and cold liquid were too great to resist. She placed the can on her desk, her mouth watering as she watched the condensation run down its sides.

With one hand, Marie opened the can, the sharp hiss piercing the silence. When she raised it to her lips and took a sip, the saccharine liquid seeped into her mouth, the sugar hit stretching all the way to her toes.

After several gulps, she'd drained the can. The bloating in her stomach was almost instant, pushing it against her corset. The drink was a bad idea.

She stared at the screens in front of her. One hundred and fifty tiny monitors. It was the same for her brothers and sisters. Six pairs of stinging eyes watched nine hundred tiny screens—nine hundred felons.

Despite the shifting chaos on the wall in front of her, she watched the black screen. Her heart sank. Jake… the poor man had been so lost by the end. What other choice did she have? She'd had to tell Doug.

Marie covered her mouth when she burped, but the release of air did nothing to ease her gassy stomach. She straightened her back and breathed deeply, the soda churning in her guts.

Once the nausea had passed, Marie rubbed her face and stared at her monitors. For her, it was a systematic process where she started in the top left and worked her way down to the bottom right. Ten screens on each of the fifteen rows. She checked them over and over, looking for something that might need her attention.

Once she'd checked the first row, Marie glanced across at the blonde woman on her left. What process did she use? How did she decide if something was a negative projection? Did she ever ignore any? Should Marie have ignored Jake?

She looked back at her screens. If she stared at her for too long, the cameras would see it.

The first screen on the second row made her pause. What the hell? She put her headphones on and tapped the larger monitor in front of her. Marie jumped when the projection brought a heavy metal soundtrack with it. The screaming guitar shredded her eardrums. Marie fumbled for the volume control with shaking hands.

Once she'd lowered it, she checked to either side. No one else had heard it. Then the blonde woman turned slightly. Maybe she had.

Marie faced her monitor again, but she could feel the woman looking at her as though she was reaching out to Marie. Why else would she be looking over? Maybe she needed to talk about her experiences too.

The urge to look back at the woman pulled on Marie's neck, but she stayed strong and watched the chaotic images flashing in front of her.

Blood—lots of blood and a wink of shining metal followed by screams as the blade came down. Slash! Slash! Slash!

The caffeine from her drink kicked in, her hands shaking to the point where it was hard to type. After several attempts and plenty of use of the backspace button, Marie brought up the profile photo of the prisoner whose projection it was. The blood covering his face made it hard, but after a few seconds of staring at him, Marie was sure it was a match. It wasn't a negative projection; this was his fantasy. He must be a lifer.

A two-finger swipe across the monitor banished the image, replacing it with a couple having sex. There was no reason to think this was a negative projection, but Marie needed to let her stomach settle.

To keep herself busy, she pulled up the profile picture of the ladies' man and compared it to the love maker on the screen. As was often the case, the man taking his partner to orgasmic heaven was a better-looking, taller, and slightly more buff version of the real person. Marie smiled and shook her head before looking to the left. Did Blondie find these losers funny too?

Her colleague was staring at her screen again.

Marie watched the two bodies writhe together, bashing into one another, the woman screaming his name, him pounding hard into her. Male fantasies were so unimaginative. One hundred and fifty monitors—all of them men and they all wanted to have sex with the same woman. Bigger than Marie expected, bigger than the media would have every woman believe, but huge boobs and big arses all the same.

When Marie looked to her left this time, her heart jumped. The blonde woman was staring straight back at her. Marie spun around and pressed two fingers against the screen. Swipe.

The headphones stopped her from hearing the door, but the change of light in the room and the smell of fried food announced the arrival of Doug. Marie kept her eyes in front of her and swiped the next projection across.

The headphones weren't enough to mute Doug's voice though.

Morning, my minions.

His vulgar laugh tore through her.

When would the stupid prick stop calling them ‘minions’? Marie pulled the headphones half off her head and listened to the vile man, but she didn't look at him.

Another day, another credit, eh? Well, I'm here if you need me for anything; maybe another termination? The very mention of it made Marie's blood run cold.

The Cuban heels on Doug's boots clicked against the linoleum floor as he paced around the small room. At five feet seven, he needed every extra inch he could get.

There was a rustling sound and the fried smell increased tenfold. The greasy bacon's scent was so rich that Marie