Beyond an Unreasonable Doubt

By Maadist

In the near future capitalism has split society into three parts: The Sky, where the rich live, rule, and govern; The Hills, where the middle class has no crime and are protected by a wall; and The Underground where the poorest residents live and struggle for basic needs. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maadist Publishing LLC
• Release date: Sep 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888961384

Book preview

Beyond An Unreasonable Doubt

By: Maadist

Shape Description automatically generated with medium confidence

This is a work of fiction that was inspired by some actual events. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All information that may resemble a person living or dead, place, or locale has been altered, omitted, or combined to produce a fictious tale. 

Cover Illustration by Shavier Art

Editing by Arialina Writes

Text Copyright Ó2023 by Maadist

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Maadist Publishing LLC.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Acknowledgements

This book has been one of the most difficult undertakings in my career. A portion of it is based upon my life, making it personal for me. I would like to acknowledge and thank my wife and children as they have supported me through this and given me reason to continue as an author. I next want to thank my mother and siblings. Without them there would be no me, thus this novel would not exist. Thank you for all the guidance and wisdom you all have bestowed upon me. Additionally, I must acknowledge the beta readers for providing me with feedback that enhanced my novel and the overall experience for the reader. Finally, I would like to thank my editor, Arialina and cover designer, Javi. Many people assume that a book is created by a single person, but it takes a team to get the job done and the two of you have been monumental to this creation.

Table of Contents

1…………………………………… Marcus

2.…………………………………. Malachi

3.…………………………………… Marcus

4.…………………………………… Rahmeek

5.…………………………………… Marcus

6.…………………………………… Malachi

7.…………………………………… Marcus

8.…………………………………… Malachi

9.…………………………………… Marcus

10…………………………………… Malachi/ Marcellus/Marcus

11.…………………………………… Malachi

12.…………………………………… Rahmeek

13.…………………………………… Marcus

14.…………………………………… Rahmeek

15.…………………………………… Malachi

16.…………………………………… Marcus

17.…………………………………… Marcellus

18.…………………………………… Rahmeek

19.…………………………………… Marcus

20.…………………………………… Malachi

21.…………………………………… Marcus

22.…………………………………… Marcellus

Preface

When somebody is put on trial the jury is told that they must be found guilty beyond the shadow of a reasonable doubt. Without this guiding principle juries would be confounded, and verdicts would be a rarity. However, that is exactly how life works. There is no jury to deliberate. There is no judge to hand down sentencing. There are little to no guiding principles. In life the doubts are unreasonable whether they be internal or external.

Internally, we often tell ourselves we cannot accomplish what we want. We say that our goals or dreams are too big and impossible to accomplish. Meanwhile, there are external doubts that enforce or create internal ones. People tell you repeatedly that you cannot do something simply because they can’t, or they haven’t seen it done before.

This novel explores these unreasonable doubts and how to move past them while simultaneously looking at the various types of men that often grow in urban areas. Although their paths to success are unclear, each brother must explore life and find his own way.

Chapter 1: Marcus

There is no good starting point nor a good ending point. There are only points in time where different situations have occurred. Situations that have shaped my life and made me who I am. Some of them have been good, but so many of them have been horrendous, for lack of a better word. All those situations and moments have led me here. Lying in a pool of blood. Contemplating if there was something I could have done differently. Why me? Why have I been forsaken? Why have I been forgotten? If all I do is good, then why is everything I experience so bad?

All these thoughts were navigating the maze that is my brain. An open sea filled with walls of waves, preventing a singular thought from escaping, yet shooting them all out at once. As the stampede of questions continues to trample my mind, my body continues to lie in blood.

Stiff and motionless. I fear moving or looking to see the damage. The frostbitten numbness of my body would prevent me from any movement I would want to do. If my fear didn’t have such a grasp on me, that is, holding me with the vigor and strength of a toddler grabbing a toy.

I try to focus my mind on something other than the fear. Something other than my dismay and the questions that are continually confounding me. The only other thing I can think of is the weather. It’s cold, uncharacteristically, so for May, but the blood is warm. The contradictory temperatures only cause my mind to slide into further disarray.

My eyes fill with tears before they gush out and roll over my face like a flood. The tears roll down and mix in with the blood, cooling it and my mind for a moment. The shock briefly subsides, and for solely a second, I realize how this all began. With nothing else to do and my fear and the cold back in control, I focus on that one moment - The beginning. When all of this started, I replayed every one of those moments that I experienced that led me here.

I guess the beginning for me would be the day I was born, the Ides of March 2191. Of course, this isn’t something I personally remember, but my mom and my sisters say that the way I was born told them I was different. They told me that I was born in a monsoon. Rain poured from the sky as if God Himself was crying tears of joy. My birth was simple and painless, and just as I took my first breath, lightning struck the hospital. My mom said, It was as if the power you needed to live was taken from everything around you, including the skies. That’s one way to describe it. I’d describe it as the type of luck I came into this world having. Only I could have luck bad enough to have lighting strike the building I was born in as I’m being born.

With that type of entry into the world, everyone but me thought that I was destined to be great. More or less, I was right, and my life and family turned out to be anything but. I was my mom’s ninth child. That was a lot of children for anyone, but for someone who lived in the underworld of Droga, it was a death sentence. Food was scarce, jobs were few, and credits were something you didn’t even bother to think about.

Despite that, my mother, Chava, didn’t seem to mind bringing children into the mess she called life, and I didn’t mind being in it. Droga was the largest city in the world with a population of over one billion people; but it wasn’t a city for the faint of heart. It was divided into classes based on wealth. The Skies ruled from homes in the clouds, literally looking down on those that didn’t have access to the same resources. They had the best schools, the best doctors, more food than they could imagine, and clean air. However, only about two percent of people lived there. Then there were The Hills. They lived behind a massive wall that protected them from crime and disease. Most of them worked for the Skies. They made the city move, and every now and then, one of them became a Sky. They did well in life and wanted to keep what they had. There weren’t many of them either. Only about ten percent of people resided in the safety of the walls. Then there were us living outside of the wall, and they called us Underlings because the area of the city we lived in was called The Underworld. Hosting an astounding eighty-eight percent of the city, it was no surprise that we were poor, crime-ridden, drug infested, and overpopulated.

Although we didn’t have much, we had each other and would share anything with others in the community.  The Underworld was truly the slums of the city. All the buildings were run down, and the homes, if you dared call them that, left much to be desired. No heat, no air, and oftentimes, no water. Nothing that was deemed essential to life was given; it had to be earned. Of course, there were hungry nights and no privacy, but with all my siblings, it was never a dull moment.

Everything my siblings and I did turned into a game or competition. We often even played who could eat the most or the fastest. Times were simple, and we were simple for the most part.

Although I was my mother’s ninth child, I was not her last one. By the time I was six, there were thirteen of us. There were four boys and a whopping nine girls. In the slums of Droga, this number was one that would assure death. There was no way to get the credits to support all those children. At least not by legal means. I didn’t know it at that time, but there was a lot more going on around me than I realized.

That changed for me late one night when I had to use the bathroom. In my house, that meant going through my Uncle Charles’s room. He and I didn’t talk much, but I noticed he was always angry. He was good with his hands, so he received steady work from The Hills, but those credits never made it home, or at least that’s what I thought.

I made my way to the bathroom easy enough. Uncle Charles’s room was a mess, and he snored like a hibernating bear. When I was trying to wash my hands, I stopped hearing the snores. I turned around, and he was standing right there with a blue vial in his mouth. It was small, no larger than a breath mint. I thought it was glass, but it couldn’t be because he bit into it, shooting a blue liquid into his mouth before he yelled, What the hell are you doing in here!?

I was terrified. His eyes turned bloodshot red, with veins popping out around them and his mouth. I. I. was all I could stammer to say as I stumbled back, shaking.

Get out! He said feverishly while looming over me before stepping to the side and pointing me out the door.

I took off running back to the living room, where I slept with the rest of my siblings. My heart was racing, and my breathing was heavy. I threw the blanket over my head and tried to force myself back to sleep.

What is your problem? My brother Malachi asked.

Nothing, I said after I calmed down a bit.

Then go back to sleep.

I listened as best I could, at least.

I didn’t often disobey Malachi; he was my eldest brother. Although he had a thin frame, he loomed over me and often horrified me. It was common for me to run from him even when he was attempting to be a good older brother to me. I had the courage of a mouse in front of a cat when it came to him, but he was still my brother.

The next morning, I rose with the sun. My daily routine was to wake up before everyone else and beat them to the bathroom. The only person that was up before me was my uncle. He had to leave before the sun so he could be one of the first in line to get a respectable job from The Hills.

School for me was a breeze. I aced every test and could do advanced work far beyond my years. On normal days after school, I would finish my homework and then do one of my older siblings. It was still rudimentary to me, but it posed a greater challenge than my own.

This day was quite a bit different. As I got home, my mother asked me to come and talk to her. She was always too busy for me. She had twelve other children to raise, and I asked far too many questions for her. Questions that she typically didn’t know the answer to. So, it was best for her to just ignore me, but not today. Today she looked me straight in the eyes to talk with me.

Yes, Mom? I asked as I sat on the floor in front of her.

I got this vid from one of the top Hills today, she replied.

My face lit up with confusion. What did any of this have to do with me? I was only six. I could barely grasp the idea of the social classes, let alone understand why my mother would sit me down to talk about a powerful Hill.

My mother could see my confusion and continued with her point. It says they have noticed your scores and are impressed by them. So impressed, that they want you to go to a special school for gifted children.

I was stuck. I could tell that I was smarter than many of my peers, but I had no idea I was that smart or that our scores even mattered to anyone other than our teachers.

What does that mean? I asked nervously.

It means you have a better chance to make something out of yourself. This school can give you opportunities that nobody here has ever had.

Will any of my friends be there?

No, you’d be the only one. The vid said that you’d be the first Underling to get this chance.

That sounds like a lot of credits. Can we afford it?

Well, that’s the best part. You’ll have a sponsor that’s not only going to pay for you to go to the school but will pay for your uniforms and provide you with transportation too.

All of that? I asked.

That’s what I said, ain’t it? Here, watch this vid.

My mother hit her wristwatch, and a three-D image of a man showed up. He looked middle-aged and fit. He was wearing a black suit and tie and had a black beard with hints of grey. He looked like my grandfather with a smaller stomach and credits. I had only seen clothes like his in vids in school. Underlings could only dream of speaking with someone dressed like that, let alone becoming somebody dressed like that, but from what my mom was telling me, I may be able to do just that. The image alone made me listen with the intent of a college student.

"Greetings Ms. Coleman. I would first like to tell you that you have done a magnificent job at raising such a high-achieving scholar as your son, Marcus. We here in The Hills monitor all standardized scores throughout Droga, and Marcus is by far the most gifted scholar that we have seen. That is why I want him to attend The Castle on the Hill, Droga Academy for the Gifted.

This is the first time we have ever