The Art of Venality: The Art of Venality, #1

By Kathryn Finlay

Venality- the condition of being venal; openness to corruption or bribery.

In the year 2022, the fight to be the world leader has come to a bloody end, the Dominion reigning supreme.

195 countries have been sectioned into ten zones, each under the strict and watchful eyes of the One World Government. In zone five, formerly known as Australia, the plan for total take over is almost complete, everyone quietly accepting their new society.

Almost.

When 20-year-old Ari learns she is going to flee the Grid, it's music to her rebellious ears, though she doesn't know the whole truth.

In the next twelve months, the long-fated amalgamation of man and machine will be fulfilled, enslaving humanity into a new destiny as human hybrids.

Accede. Comply. Survive.

You were bought and paid for long before you existed.

This is what they sold you for.

This. Is. The Art of Venality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pseudonym Publishing
• Release date: Aug 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9780648657002

Book preview

Chapter 1

Present Day, January 2022.

There are people who only listen to the news in the ad breaks of Home and Away and there are people who watch it at five p.m., again at six p.m. and then round the evening out with the hour report at seven-thirty pm. My dad was one of the latter.

Every Sunday he woke up early to run down to the newsagent and buy the paper, which was stupid because the articles had him frustrated and often in fits of rage. But, despite his impending weekly stroke, it was a tradition that was missed when ‘they’ banned the sale of all independent news outlets.

Dad always thought the news kept him informed and felt rather left out of the loop during the transition between independent news and Dominion owned sources, so it came as no surprise when he devoured the Dominion online news every week as it was released, trying to piece things together in his desperation to make some sense of his beloved country gone mad. He could see through the vapid articles and the blatant skimming of important events, but having the news was like a crutch to him, something that kept things normal, regardless of how poor the quality or taste was.

Occasionally, he would call me in to watch the Dominion news broadcast to get my humble opinion on all things bullshit.

Stuff that, I scoffed at the television. Poppy Watkins, lead anchor, smiled down the barrel of the camera, hoping to convince me and thousands of other viewers to pop down to the local health clinic for an injection. The news cut to a break and an advert for public housing opportunities blasted across the screen. The news constantly released a slow, bubbling rage in the pit of my stomach, so I never stayed to watch it for long.

That’s a ‘NO’ to the flu shot for you, I gather? he smirked at me- my not-so-charming distaste for everything Dominion never failed to entertain him and sometimes, I liked to put it on a little bit, just to give him a cheap laugh.

It’s not even the flu shot, it’s probably bloody worse. People are sick in Europe, not here. I’m not getting a shot, they can piss off, I fumed, genuinely tired of new rules, laws and punishments being enforced on us daily. Dad chuckled at my frustration- Angry Ari, he often called me.

Reports said it started with a cold and feeling generally unwell. I can’t remember, nor is it important now but that’s how it supposedly began. A flu said to be worse than any other virus or airborne bacteria in history- allegedly worse than SARS and Swine Flu combined. It was winter when it broke, so a few people were sniffling and taking days off work, but I never encountered anyone too sick to function. It just seemed like normal winter sickness to me, not that I was a practicing doctor or anything.

The media ran story after story on reported fatalities and the severity of the illness. They warned against people congregating in public and socialising with one another while unprotected. The only way to avoid this catastrophic illness, they said, was by having a free vaccine available from specially selected health clinics.

Under the previous government, it seemed like people had a choice, but under the Vax Tax laws they left behind, people had to choose between keeping their jobs and feeding their families or starving. If you wanted to work, you had to be up to date with everything on their medical schedule for refusal in the land of medical tyranny meant being ostracised.

They called it herd immunity and we had literally become their sheep.

There were no official reports of the illness making it to this country, or anywhere in the Oceania region. The media blew it all out of proportion to the point where they lied outright about it, but people lined up in droves for this medicine, terrified at the possibility of contracting the illness.

I don’t think you’ll have much of a choice, my dad sighed. He was right. If he knew about the pile of letters I had hidden in my room, requesting me to come down to the nearest clinic, he would have had a panic attack. As if I didn’t have a big enough target on my back.

My family was considered an unusual family for the fact that my parents were still happily married after more than twenty years with two biological children.

We were called bigots, which I never really understood. We weren’t religious, that was frowned upon anyway. My grandparents were also happily married, going on forty years- we were considered a family of weirdos. Dad worked for the government, mum was once a teacher at a school for autistic children. They were home by six every night, and most nights we ate dinner as a family. Because of this, we were labelled stuck up and called traditional, spoken like it was a dirty word.

My dad had to have the vaccine as a requirement of all government employees. Refusing it would have meant losing his job. My mother was a very sick woman and we relied on dad’s income to help pay her medical bills. I’ll never forget the day dad brought mum back from the clinic after getting their injections with his tail between his legs, like he had failed us.

From years of ignorance and lack of self-reliance, no one ever imagined it could get this bad, and it was quickly getting worse.

I heard dad calling for me as I stared back into the house which had been my only home, where Kyah and I had grown up together. The home where we welcomed and said sad goodbyes to our pets, where we hosted numerous pool soirees and I hid many a drunk friend in the yard after sneaking home from parties late at night. Wonderful memories of mum healthy and happy, playing silly games with us and watching family movies together on the couch, Kyah and I fighting over who had eaten more popcorn as we tried to go piece for piece.

Memories of mum getting sicker and sicker, losing her hair, her weight and her height as she faded to a shadow of her former beautiful self into a much older version, looking tiny in her wheelchair. I always loved our house. I had never lived anywhere else, but for every happy moment in my memory, the house would forever be shadowed by the last miserable year we had spent there, which was a shame. 

It was a lovely old house that had been our home for our entire lives and now we had to leave it and leave our parents too. We weren’t children anymore. The wheel had turned so now they needed us and I was less than thrilled knowing we were about to leave them on their own.

I walked out the front door, not looking back. Doing so may have aroused suspicion. 

Chapter 2

Six Months Ago, June 2021

"W e need to talk," Jase came home early one afternoon- a rarity since he started working for the Dominion. He dropped his keys on the kitchen bench and grabbed me by the wrist, practically dragging me across the living room.

I trotted after him to our bedroom, bypassing Kyah sitting at the computer in the study next door. I clicked the door closed behind me.

What is it? I asked, worried by the crazed look in his eyes.

They’re cracking down on the microchips and the vaccines. They need us to come in this month.

Shit.

Why the sudden rush? I knew they were going to come down on us sooner or later, I had hoped it wouldn’t be the former.

They’re going with the terrorism angle- with all the talks of closing the borders, all kinds of people are trying to sneak their way in. The government is telling people this is for their security.

What are we going to do? I asked in a hushed voice. We were in no position to piss off the government, again.

I don’t know. I’ll figure something out, I promise, his blue eyes pleaded with me to trust him, not for the first time.

He was the only person I would trust blindfolded. I nodded numbly, filled with anxiety.

They’d already come for him, and despite their promise to leave us alone, now they were coming for me too.

Present day - January 2022

I stared out the passenger side window at our neighbourhood as we drove away from our home for what I figured would be the last time. Dad said it would only be temporary. He should have known I wouldn’t buy it as I inherited my suspicious mind from him. Our mother was the only one with the sunshine and happiness gene, the rest of us were cynical, sarcastic pricks who pulled everything apart and dissected it for faults and misinformation.

We drove past our neighbours, who lived two doors down. They were one of four families on our long street who had remained in their homes. Everyone else had moved to the Grid- the nickname for the city after the extensive renovations to house so many people were completed. Two little boys played outside, their mum waved as she spotted our car. I waved back at her, feeling uneasy seeing them all dressed in grey uniforms. The last time I saw them, only the dad was wearing his grey government attire. Nearly everyone wore the Dominion uniform now, consisting solely of clothes that were slate grey. I was one of the few people who didn’t wear the uniform as I rarely left the house but if I did, I avoided wearing anything other than black or a similar grey. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. I thought back to the first day Jase had come home from his new job and pretended to show off his uniform- all I could manage to spit out was he looked like Dr Evil.

Dad’s mate had us leave our house two hours before curfew, giving us a bit of time to make it to the drop off point without looking suspicious. That way, dad could return home before curfew started and it would be dark enough so no one would notice Kyah and I weren’t in the car with him. All I had with me was a backpack that contained my most personal belongings and few clothes. Kyah had a bag too. We couldn’t draw any attention to ourselves by dressing for travel or carrying large bags out to the car for a neighbour to possibly report, not that there were too many of them left. We were meeting a man named Anthony, a Cyber Security Specialist from the National Security department who, I assumed, knew my dad from working in the government too. He never actually told us how he knew this mysterious person or how he got involved with him. My dad was a very quiet man who could keep a secret better than anyone, a trait I did not inherit from him.

Anthony will drive you to Montague. You can sleep on the way there. You’ll arrive in the middle of the night. There will be other people there and although I don’t know anything about them, I know you will be safe until we figure out what we are going to do next, dad added, quietly.

Mum’s going to die soon, isn’t she? Kyah asked, her face expressionless, her voice emotionless. Mum and dad had been to see her doctor a week ago and although they hadn’t told us what he had said, they changed plans so only Kyah and I would be leaving town. We were so upset. We threatened to stay behind unless they explained why, but we lost. Dad- one. Sisters- zero.

Everything will be fine, Bear, dad answered, looking straight ahead and not meeting her eyes.

I could see she wasn’t too happy with his response and much like me, she knew he was full of shit. Kyah wasn’t as naïve as I had been at her age and she certainly wasn’t as stupid. She could be just as cynical as me one minute and then she would encourage me to have a more positive outlook on life. She said it was being realistic, I just thought she was bloody confusing. I was envious of her naturally kind and selfless nature, when often I had to dig deep for an inch of patience.

Kyah and I remained close throughout high school despite us being into different things. She loved to read, she loved to sew and go for hikes alone, something my parents would have freaked out about if they’d known. I spent most of my weekends at some remote surf beach, camping with Jase and our dickhead friends after music concerts were banned from the metropolitan area. Bye bye distorted guitars, man-sweat and ringing ears- it was fun while it lasted.

We shared the same oval face as our father, with his sharp cheekbones and straight nose, but we had our mother’s softness around the mouth and jaw. Our smooth feminine lips made our faces look far less harsh and masculine as they would have with dad’s straight mouth. When people looked past the fact Kyah had wavy copper hair and I had dead straight brown hair, they always said we looked alike, even with our different eye colours. We both had our mother’s almond shaped eyes, with Kyah inheriting dad’s icy grey-blue colour. I was the only one in our family who had almost golden yellow eyes. I was told it had something to do with being born too early. If I was extremely tired, they reflected flecks of deep green. Otherwise I looked like one of the weird vampires from that movie- OK, I didn’t, but I felt like I did.

Night and day, chalk and cheese, whatever- she was always my best friend and when Jase left, she never once rubbed it in my face by gloating, which she very well could have done.

I would have.

I didn’t comment on dad’s blatant lies of a fantastic future. I was unable to speak, bordering the emotional line of being scared and feeling numb at what may lie ahead.

Refusing the vaccine and the compulsory microchips meant we had to disappear. On the surface, it may have looked like youthful, childish rebellion against a strict government, however it was something much bigger than that. I could feel it in my bones. 

Dad pulled up to a concealed driveway which ended up being a long windy track surrounded by bush that led to a small, dark, wooden house that sat at the very end of the driveway. It looked more like a little country cabin than a house. Dad slipped up by telling me it had been abandoned for a long time, although I had no idea how he even knew that. I threw him a puzzled look that he pretended not to notice.

Anthony, I assumed, stood with his arms folded outside of his black van as he leaned against the bonnet. He was a tall, solid man and he still had his sunglasses and cap on, even though the sun was setting quickly. The van was very official looking and it concerned me. Had dad been tricked by someone he used to work with? It wouldn’t be the first I’d heard of people being lured into buying fake passports or similar and being murdered, kidnapped or arrested because of their desperation to escape.

Dad got out of the car. My sister and I sat and waited for direction.

My imagination ran wild and tricked me into thinking we were about to be whisked away to a rehabilitation camp in the desert by some undercover Dominion official.

Dad gave the man a warm hug. I thought that was odd as he was not normally a hugger. This whole scenario seemed very, very strange to my sister and me as we exchanged confused looks. Dad waved for us to get out of the car and meet our Knight in dusty flannelette.

Here we go, I muttered.

Ari, be nice, Kyah warned sternly. It’s not that I wasn’t nice, I just I didn’t display my niceness openly like she did.

Anthony, these are my daughters- Ari and Kyah. There was so much pain and sadness behind dad’s eyes, his lips quivered at the corners when he tried to smile at us. I could tell this was incredibly difficult for him, shipping his kids off into what was essentially the unknown, even if we were legally adults.

Lovely to meet you Ari, I have heard so much about you, Anthony smiled warmly. It was hard to read his face at dusk amongst the trees, but there was a sense of familiarity about him. Why would my dad tell this guy anything about me at all?

Hello, I mumbled as I awkwardly, took his hand and shook it. He made me feel somewhat comfortable in his presence, which was something rather new for me.

You too, Kyah, he smiled and shook Kyah’s hand. Dad stood smiling at us, only with his mouth and not with his eyes. It dawned on me then that this might be the last time we saw him.

As we transferred our bags from the car to the van, dad and Anthony whispered to each other out of my hearing range, making me feel uncomfortable and on edge. I hated secrets, especially when it involved my parents. The last time mum and dad were keeping secrets from my sister and I was when they found out mum had cancer.

Dad came to us and Kyah clung to him tightly. I stood back, hands tapping my thighs, not knowing what to do. Anthony tried to look away to give us some privacy.

You be good girls, you hear me? he said, looking at me with tears in his eyes while holding Kyah tightly. You girls have been so good to us, so supportive and caring and we know we haven’t been the best parents, but we are so proud of you both. We are comforted knowing you are leaving together, always looking out for each other. He looked right at me for the last part- Kyah was my little sister.

Good one dad, way to get tears out of a stone. I tried to wipe my cheek inconspicuously.

Kyah’s tears ran freely down her face as she kissed his cheek covered in grey and black stubble.

We have to move, Ed. Curfew, Anthony tried to approach our precious moment gently. I could tell he was one of those people who stressed out if they were going to be less than five minutes early. Now I was really confused as to why he was friends with my dad, who was always bloody late.

I hugged dad for possibly the last time and the three of us held onto each other, not wanting to say goodbye. I could probably count the times I had seen my dad cry on one hand. He stood there unashamed with tears rolling down his face. I took Kyah’s arm, gently pulling her away from dad and opened the front passenger door for her.

The two of us sat in the car with our faces pressed against the windows like young children as we drove away, trying to look at our dad for as long as possible. Anthony was respectful of our need to sit in silence as he drove the van towards the mountains to our new home; if we could ever call anywhere else home again.

Chapter 3

Four and a half years earlier, June 2017

Imet Jase a month before his eighteenth birthday, just after I had turned sixteen. Even in winter , I skipped maths in the afternoon to go with my other wayward friends down the beach, where Jase happened to teach surf classes as part of the public beach safety program.

He was quite tall, deeply tanned from too many cases of sunburn, with shoulder length blonde hair that he kept surprisingly clean. His eyes were captivating and changed from blue to grey depending on his mood. The happier he was, the brighter blue his eyes were. I often failed to see the same expression in light eyes as I did in dark eyes, but his eyes told every story in his soul from this life and others past.

He would be described as more lean than muscular, although he was naturally toned from eating a stupid amount of bananas every day and being on the water so often. He was perpetually relaxed and smiled this lazy, half smile that would have had girls falling at his feet if they could understand his sarcasm was him joking, not being a malicious arsehole. I think that’s what really caught my attention, if I’m honest- his dark wit. I mean, he was physically attractive and that’s the excuse I gave my friends, but there was something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I knew in my heart he was special. Isn’t that just gross?

Being extremely mature and not at all embarrassing, my friends went over and asked for his number for my benefit. Although he gave it to them, when we first started texting, he quickly told me that although he was happy to be friends, I was much too young for him to date.

That being said, we sent text messages to each other every day for a month and he invited my friends and me to his eighteenth birthday at the local surf club where he worked. I had heard from mutual friends he did like me but he didn’t want to take advantage of the fact I was younger than him.

By like a damned second!

I knew he had started dating a girl the same age as him and I wouldn’t have a bar of that; so, I was determined to show him how mature I was. I got all dressed up for this party, which was ridiculous. I was so uncomfortable wearing a face full of makeup and any shoes that weren’t thongs or boots.

My friends told me a band t-shirt with The Simpsons across the front and a pair of ripped jeans wasn’t the way to get a guy’s attention. That was supposed to be my ultimate goal in life at sixteen, I guess. So, I was peer pressured into dressing head to toe in someone else’s clothes including an ugly denim skirt as part of the ensemble.

It was for a good cause, I convinced myself, and I believed my ticket to maturity was the half bottle of vodka in my backpack that I stole from the dusty liquor box hidden in the garage at home where it had been for at least twenty years. Fancy people had liquor cupboards and cabinets. We had an old Storage King box in the carport, filled with half consumed bottles so vile it was no wonder they had been left since the Stone Age, otherwise known as 1996.

I was positive that once Jase saw how sophisticated and cool I was with my makeup and vodka, he would ask me to be his girlfriend. We would live happily ever after on the beach, in his old van where we’d one day raise little beach babies and soak up the sun all day, surfing, eating hot chips and drinking pineapple smoothies.

Some might say I wasn’t very ambitious back then.

Safe to say that did not happen, as I spent merely an hour at the party before I threw up behind the food table, as well as my on friends’ shoes. I think I had lost my own shoes by that point. Definitely not cool and certainly not mature. Jase ended up leaving his own party early and sober, driving me home and carrying me to my front door, as I was in no proper state to walk. I was too drunk to even care what my dad would say, and he was furious.

When I woke the next day, I felt instant regret, knowing I had made a complete arse of myself in front of Jase and ruined his birthday. I figured he’d never want to speak to me again. Surprisingly, he rocked up at my house that afternoon and asked to take me out.

I may not have been able to be cool and impress him by being someone I wasn’t but apparently, he already liked me for who I was and although we took it very slowly, we were unquestionably infatuated with each other. Cue the Disney music, please!

It sounds a little cute, incredibly high school and sickeningly sweet and it was. Most teenagers were oversexed, selfish and unaware of how to treat another human being with respect. Jase was different, I felt like he was from another time.

Jase and I were only ever apart when we had work, school or the odd special event. We were very dependent on each other and it wasn’t until we started fighting more regularly that I realised how unhealthy being together constantly was. We loved each other in every single