When the White Light Splits

Save Our Selves (The Warning)

I went into the small door beside the main one that was allocated for us. We weren’t allowed to use the main door into the university building in case we accidentally contaminated the door handle or something. I don’t know. I don’t think it was to do with that; it was just so that they could begin to separate us before we had even stepped inside.

Inside of the beautiful old building, the first thing I was greeted with was another huge poster of Korse glaring down at me. That, and a couple of his minions dressed in white, waiting to search bags and give people the once over, to check that they weren’t terrorists or something like that. Of course I got my bag searched; they’re wasn’t anything in there other than my lunch, a couple of pens and a notepad. The drac felt it was necessary, of course, to flick through the notebook to check that there was nothing traitorous written there, no hidden messages of any sort. When he had finished I meekly took it back off him, in my head, however, I was repeatedly whacking him around the face with it whilst asking whether he’d got a good enough look. I hated dracs; they were Korse’s thugs, hired for their dim wit and willingness to do anything, like a puppet on a string.

I went through to find my lecture hall. This was one of the only places where I was able to sit with people who weren’t marked. They weren’t going to put on lectures specially for people like us, so we had to sit with the others. We did have a special segment of the hall that was allocated to us, and I found myself in this section once I stepped into the large room. There weren’t many people here at the moment, a few dotted here and there. Some listening to the latest broadcast from BL/ind on the transmission devices that those who were not marked were permitted to carry, some were doodling on spare bits of a paper and a few were dipping into the textbooks that we had to bring to class.

I sat there passively as the room filled up around me, ignoring most people, waving to a few and receiving dirty glances from a few others. I looked up when a girl with blonde hair sat down next to me, her usual place.

“Hi” I said to her

“Hello” she replied, before pulling her books out of her bag.

We knew each other because she had sat next to me for the past six weeks, but other than being brief acquaintances - like with most people in this segment of the room, we had no other connection. The marked didn’t have friends. It was seen as suspicious if we had friends; they thought we might be grouping together for some master plan to overthrow the regime. As if we would ever have the resources to do such things. The dracs may look dim and behave like overgrown monkeys; but those ray guns they carried weren’t toys. They were totally really and totally deadly.

“Did you finish the essay?” she asked me, calling me back from glancing at a boy over the aisle who was playing with a transmitter.

“Yeah I did, I found it hard to get my hands on one of the books we needed though” I said

“Yeah so did I,” she said, “When I went it was in the other section of the library and I couldn’t get access”

“Same” I sympathised with her, “How did you eventually get it?”

I shrugged and raised my eyebrows. A signal that she probably took, rightly, to mean that I had got the needed textbook off the black market. Trading in some much needed coupons in order to not get thrown off my university course for missing a vital essay. It wasn’t fair, but as we had it continually drummed into us; life wasn’t fair.

The lecturer walked in, my favourite; Mr Hill, and the room slowly came to silence as the usual message of “TAKE YOUR MEDICINE” popped up on the overhead projector before the lecturer could commence his lesson. The title of the lecture popped up after a moment; THE HISTORY OF LITERATURE; AND WHY IT’S FALSE. I wrote the words at the top of my page and carefully underlined it, so I knew where everything could be filed at a later date.

The first subheading popped up: WHY SHAKESPEARE WAS A FRAUD, and the lecturer began to talk so the scratching of pens began in earnest.

**

“Vayna , would you please stay behind for a moment?” the lecturer asked at the end of his hour long session. I looked up from packing away my books and nodded, a little confused because I was never usually held back. I made my way down to the bottom of the hall as the rest of the class slowly filed away through the doors at the top.

“It’s about your last essay” said the lecturer, handing me back a wad of paper with marks scribbled all over it, “It was good”

“Huh?” I asked surprised, “I thought you were getting me down here to tell me off”

“I do tell you if you’ve done right sometimes, too” he said with a kind smile. There was a look behind his eyes that suggested something was troubling him but he wasn’t about to let it out to the world.

“Is that all?” I asked, putting my essay back in my bag.

“Well no, actually,” he said, “There was a part of your essay that caught my attention”

“Oh?” I asked, a thought of caution shooting across my brain.

“The part where you were questioning whether the works of Dickens really showed an under class that was out of control and needed a firm hand, or whether they were just a society in evolution?” he said.

“Oh” I said and then bit my lip; I didn’t really know what to say.

“It’s alright to write it in one of my essay’s,” he said, “but you want to be careful who you repeat these ideas to Vanya, not everyone would let them pass so easily. Especially from you” he said

“I understand sir,” I said and then my voice dropped to a whisper, “It’s just, sometimes, it feels like there’s more to be discovered about the context of the texts we’re studying and -”

“Vanya!” he said, “What’ve I just told you? You must be careful. You’re a good student and I would hate to see anything happen to you”

“Yes sir” I said, “All hail Korse”

“All hail Korse” he responded smartly. I was just about to turn away when the transmitter that was on his desk gave a crackle and hissed for a moment.

“What was that?” I asked looking at it. They didn’t usually make any noise unless someone was manipulating them.

“I don’t know, it’s not -”

But before he could finish his sentence a loud voice erupted into the room and I could hear it coming through the open doors of the lecture theatre as well, through the transmitter’s of the people who had just left the room. The voice filled the room with it’s booming message;

“Look alive, sunshine...”

The three words echoed over an over again through the walls and the cracks in the paint.

“Vanya, go home” said the lecturer, “Go home now”

“What, why?” I said confused, still staring at the transmitter from with the voice had come.

“Just go!” he said, “The city will be on lock down today after this - get out while you can”

I nodded and took him at his word; this kindly man who had always been my favourite. The man with the sadness behind his eyes, masked by the face he had to present to the world. I turned, and at a brisk walk - not a run, so as not to attract attention - I left the university buildings.