ONE MONTH LATER...
The riots actually begin in Paris, which is fitting. It’s almost a hundred years after the seminal student riots of the 1960s.
The rest of the world is quiet, still stunned by the information published anonymously on the internet about the discovery made by WOCO scientists.
The discovery they tried to keep a secret.
At first, nobody believes the rumours. But detail is added to detail and soon there’s so much material that a house of facts can be built without any flaws in the foundations.
But in most parts of the world people remain reluctant to demonstrate their anger. It’s as if they are paralysed by the enormity of the revelation. They can’t get their heads around it. A way to stop the human body from ageing? Could it really be true?
The Parisians, bolstered by a history of airing their grievances on the streets, show no such inertia and march down the Champs Elysées without a second thought.
But even in the French capital, not everybody has the courage to exhibit their disgust at WOCO secrecy. It’s mainly the young, lending their energy to the older generation, who take to the streets.
But the first high profile death related to the riots occurs in Tokyo, whose own people demonstrate the day after the Parisians. The death has nothing to do with the response from the WOCO Protection Force.
A local man, 74-year-old Yushimuro Murakami, goes for his usual morning walk in Rikugien, a place to rival the Gardens of Plenty in its manufactured splendour.
But instead of taking his dog with him for its daily walk, he leaves the Shih Tzu with a neighbour, along with a large supply of dog biscuits.
Eye witnesses who see Mr Murakami in the park say he sat cross-legged on the plastic grass for hours, wishing passers-by a good morning.
At about three p.m. he takes a bottle out of his rucksack, unscrews the top, and pours the liquid over his head and clothes.
A woman sitting on a nearby bench wonders whether the gentleman is trying to cool himself down. It doesn’t occur to her that the liquid is flammable.
She watches him take another item out of his bag. But it’s too small to see exactly what it is. She thinks it might be a can of antiperspirant because he wafts it around his body as if spraying himself.
What follows happens very quickly.
A haze rises up around the man, surrounding him.
It’s daylight so it’s difficult to see that this haze is caused by flames — until the flames take hold, covering his entire body.
But even though he’s on fire, he doesn’t panic, just sits there calmly, hands resting on his knees, head staring straight ahead.
The woman thinks it’s both the most violent and most serene act she’s ever witnessed.
Eventually a group of people nearby understand what’s happening and rush up to the man, taking off their own coats and sweaters to try and smother the flames. But they can’t get close enough to wrap him up and starve the fire of oxygen. The heat is too intense.
All they can do is flap at the flames furiously.
A few people run up and throw water at him out of their half-litre drinking bottles.
But it’s to no avail.
Eventually, the small crowd can only bury their faces in their hands and wait for the fire to burn itself out.
The man’s body soon chars and falls on its side.
Mr Murakami left more than dog biscuits with his neighbour. He left a note.
*“Like many citizens of the world, loyal WOCO citizens, I was delighted to hear that WOCO have developed a medical procedure to stop the ageing process. But I was shocked and appalled that they tried to keep this a secret. What should have been a wonderful discovery, a celebration, has turned into a devious act. I have no chance of receiving the immortality drug, procedure, or whatever it is. I wouldn’t want it. Truly. There are many people more worthy of the honour than myself. My existence on earth won’t be missed. I hope this final gesture in my life makes a point or two. That there should be no more secrecy. That there must be a fair system of awarding immortality. That it shouldn’t be reserved for WOCO officers. Goodbye, and good luck to each and every one of you.”*
Like many people, Mr Murakami is partially guessing. There isn’t any proof in the leaked information that WOCO plans to reserve the procedure for its own people. It’s assumed that this is the case because of all the secrecy.
But Mr Murakami isn’t the only person making this assumption. WOCO officers themselves make it, too. Every WOCO officer in every city of the world rejoices at the rumours. WOCO officers who are plumbers, electricians, doctors, as well as those in the Protection Force, secretly hope it’s true.
So when the call comes to put down the riots, WOCO Protection Force officers pick up their weapons with gusto. If the protesters think they have a cause worth fighting for, they have nothing on the motivation of those facing them with riot shields and water cannon.
Word spreads through the ranks of the Protection Force officers that if they put on a good show, receive a commendation from their senior officers, they’ll be in line for the new immortality treatment.
It isn’t true. There are no such plans. But nonetheless it has a galvanising effect on them.
Rioters armed with stones, Molotov cocktails, and a sense of injustice face WOCO officers fighting for everlasting life.
The skirmishes ebb and flow, one side unable to overcome the other.
WOCO hasn’t faced a challenge like this before.
It’s such a long way from its beginnings.
WOCO started life as an internet company under a different name. In the very early days of the world wide web, it sold electronic and household goods.
It grew and grew.
Property was next on the agenda. Any patch of land, no matter how unpromising, was swallowed up. It eventually got to the point where if you went for a twenty-minute walk in any major city in the world, you stepped on their land somewhere along your route.
By then, all the regulations in the world couldn’t halt this behemoth’s momentum.
But it was only when the company started buying banks that governments became truly worried.
The company became so enormous it began holding governments to ransom. If a government didn’t give it the breaks its investment warranted, it threatened to take its business to another country. What government could let that happen to its country?
In the end, the company became tired of dealing with governments altogether and decided to enter the world of politics itself. It changed its name to the World Organising Committee (WOCO) and became the first entity to sell DVDs, refrigerators, houses, medicines, and to run countries.
But this, this is different.
Nothing in its remarkable and short history has prepared WOCO for global unrest.
The genie is out of the bottle.
But Jake doesn’t know this. He hasn’t heard news of the immortality leaks, confined as he is to a log cabin and a concrete laboratory, in leafless woods in the middle of nowhere…
