DAMAGED.
That's what the society calls us, the prisoners, the ones who are feared and hated. We are parasites of our Intelligence Bodies, the carriers of the plague. At least, that's what the Majarlikan military forces said. Of course, it's a fabric...
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Y U R A
Mom was somewhat not entirely happy of the results of my Intelligence Examination. I can tell it from the look of her eyes though she masked a smile all too well. I'm a Carsiphil. Leastways, it's not in the very bottom of the Intelligence Bodies Hierarchy. I haven't told my boyfriend about it yet. I wonder what would be his reaction, knowing that his parents are Carsiphils too.
I flip my thoughts down. I should be enjoying my birthday celebration, but my soul has turned prosaic. It seems like the WristLock is sipping the life out of me.
"Silly. Blame it all to the thing," Niloria reacts.
I sigh.
I pleaded to mom to stay with my girlfriends tonight, and she hesitantly allowed me... for my birthday. Now, Carra has brought me here in this bar with a pool of strangers dancing to the frenzied lights, hopping along the torrent of disco beats. Most of them are non-Youngsters living their lives to the fullest as if someone had snatched away their youth. Not all non-Youngsters had enjoyed their life when they were Youngsters, so they choose to play with life when they get old. And it's perfectly normal.
I massage the ache in my forehead, notwithstanding the noise. "Can we stay somewhere else?" I say to Carra, whose brows are grimly furrowed, glaring at her phone.
Apparently, she hardly seem to hear me through the noise, or she's just too preoccupied. I decide to put the earplugs on, blocking away the noise with the current report of another foreign attack in the west Majarlikan sea broadcasted from the high resolution television glued at the wall nearest to us.
"-were fifteen dead Merfins retrieved from the disputed area," a female Ysgord reports. "Here's a report from David Noris, David?"
The video skips to an unfamiliar Ysgord wearing a sweater. Maybe he's new to the agency.
"Yes, Anna," David answers. "The general of the Majarlikan Naval Force has announced earlier that there are indeed fifteen dead during the fight for our territory in the shores of Spratly Islands. Bodies were retrieved from the disputed area, and their families are in deep lament.
"Dr. Knoxx Aquilino, a volunteer who provided medical aids to the civilians and soldiers in Spratly Islands, is one of those who have lost their loved ones. The tragic death of his girlfriend, Halina Decamior, the first woman to be transmuted as a Merfin, inspired other Phyrivox women to join the Naval Force to get themselves transmuted. A special report with Dr. Knoxx Aquilino about their tragic love story will be aired in Late Night True Stories.
"Meanwhile, Our Beloved Supreme Leader is in China to discuss about the matter on the attack of their rebels in Spratly Islands. As of now, we are waiting for their findings as to why the foreign rebels are spreading terrorism in our country.
"This is David Noris, reporting for Majarlika Evening News."
"Thank you, David," Anna says after the video jumps back to her. "Now, a recent discovery that most of the foreign meats in some parts of Mindanao are actually bushmeats from Africa. The citizens are warned not to support illegal sales of bushmeats as they contain SIV or Simian immunodeficiency virus, a retrovirus, specifically a lentivirus, mostly non-pathogenic to non-human primates, that targets humans hosts when in contact with blood. The-"
I remove the earplugs. Instantly, the noise returns.
"She's late!" Carra sandwiches the phone back in her pouch after a while and tosses it on the table before looking at me whilst crossing her arms. "You saying?"
"Saying what?"
"You said something a while ago."
I contemplate. This should be a celebration. I don't want to be the party spoiler, especially when I'm the one who should be making this whole night one hell of a trip. But I'm not some funny blatteroon like Trisha. I don't have the gift gab.
The DJ Symphorhyth turns the volume up that the beats penetrate deeply in my already aching head.
"Is she coming?!" I bawl a question at her, trying to fight away the blaring music.
She shrugs. "You know her. It's either she'll come or -"
"Good evening, ladies," a waiter amiably barges in, carrying food, a pair of glasses and a bottle of whiskey. "Sorry to interrupt." He starts to set them on our table.
"Excuse me? We haven't ordered anything yet," Carra points out after we exchange questioning glances.
"Oh," the waiter stops, the second glass in his hand slightly touching the surface of the table. "I thought you're with-" he indicates a finger to the bartender's counter where a man is sitting. It's hard to make up some of his features-save that he's white-haired and grey-bearded-with the dancing rainbow laser lights tricking my eyes "-him. He said to set these here."
Carra smirks. "Well, it's obvious that this table is taken."
"I'm sorry," he says, taking everything back to his tray, when the old man starts to come in our direction, struggling through the crowd.
"Should we leave?" Carra takes the pouch as if preparing to dash away. "I don't like the look of that man. I noticed that he's watching in our direction even before the waiter came."
Undecided, I shrug. A while ago I want to leave, but this little mystery seems to glue me to the cushion of the seat.
"You can leave me anytime you want," I half sing.
"What? No!" Carra argues. "If I'll go, then you would have to come with me. You know I'll be held responsible if something bad happens to you."
"Carra, nothing will happen," I assure her. "Besides, I'm not a Youngster anymore."
"Just because you're not a Youngster, doesn't mean you're already secured," she points out.
I am about to throw a retort when we hear the waiter speaking.
"I'm sorry, sir," the waiter says. "You must have pointed the other table."
"No," the man says to the waiter before turning at us.
An odd familiarity creeps in my mind as I study him, especially now that he's closer to us.
"Please excuse me, ladies," he says, looking at Carra before settling his eyes to me. A flash of recognition crosses me as I see the scar in his face.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he says before I can say something. "I'm Jericho Marquez, a friend of your father."
