Silent Screams

Chapter 1 - Station 18

Thomas Fordley awoke on the cold January morning. The sun was still not up, but the cold wind had crashed the windows open, and flooded the small dingy apartment with bone chilling air. He lazily got out of bed, and stumbled toward the bathroom, when the black television on his living room wall, activated. The TV was never off, in a sense, during the hours that the people slept, it just dims down, and shows the symbol of the party, and of Father, watching over you all the time. During those hours, it plays a soothing, yet gripped music, meant to remind you, even during your sleep, that the party has a hold on your life. On the screen, a man with a smiling, lean, face sat, with a small stack of papers. "Good morning, Station 18. It is now 0600, and time for you to arise, to begin the days work. The news on the global wars...", he takes a moment to arrange the papers, "Atlania has won a decisive victory over Orienara, The brave boys of the 203rd armoured brigade broke through and captured Moscow, and routed the Orienara army within the visicinty. On national news, Station 13, has seen a massive upboost in citizen discipline, and has been noticed by Father. He commends Station 13, and asked them to keep it up, for their reward, a million tons of fresh wheat and flour, meant for the whole population. Station 7 has seen a boost in bullet production, the numbers raising to 200% more, than the numbers last month, the soldiers at station 19 and 20 are very lucky for that. That is all for the news, at the moment. It is now time to leave your homes, and head to work. The party, and the people of Atlania, depend on you, brothers and sisters." The news cut out, and was replaced by the National anthem of Atlania. Thomas stood to rigid attention, his face formed an unwilling smile, he had to fake his happiness, they watched you. Everyone in the state was happy. They had to be. The anthem soon finished, and Thomas relaxed, still holding a small smile. He didn't own his own personage. The state owned him, and the party owned the state. The only thing that were truly his, were his thoughts, but even that the state would wrench from him, soon as he left for work. The television was playing some militaristic song, and Thomas soon exited the kitchen, with his small tin mug full of black, distasteful liquid, and headed to the balcony, which stood at the back of his living room. Opposite the television. He opened the sliding pane, and was slapped on the face with an even colder wind than earlier in the morning
Biting his chattering teeth down, he went and stood out, leaning on from the steel railing of his balcony, looking outside toward the cityscape. He saw what he always saw, the past 10 years, a massive urban landscape, mainly apartment complexes of low quality, and jutting out, from the sea of filth, and endless apartment buildings, was the regional headquarters of NATCOM, the party that ruled the state he lived in, as well as 19 other states, spread out across the western hemisphere. These states were known as stations, 1 through to 20. This massive black building with red outlines reached as far up, as the clouds, and instilled in the hearts of everyone, a sense of fear and dread, and unexplainable loyalty, atleast to most. To Thomas, it was just fear, and hatred. He drank his coffee, making an effort to swallow the bitter drink, but he always kept the smile. As he drank the disgusting black liquid, he tried hard to remember what life was like, before NATCOM, before Father, but nothing seemed to take form, it was just a hazy cloud. His earliest memory, was the one he received 10 years ago. He remembers entering this apartment, and his first day at the Order of Entertainment (OrEnt), after that, every mundane day that followed was more or less the same. Soon after draining the cup, a siren rang out, it was a signal, to report for work. He returns to the kitchen, places the mug in the sink (which was dripping, and slightly clogged) and made his way back to the living room. There, on the table underneath the television, in its charging station, lay his National Communication Device, or NODE for short. This was one of the party's invention, and compulsory for all to wear, the upper authority segment, the lower authority segment, the worker's segment, and the massal's segment, all had to wear it. Using this device, the state (essentially, the party) could monitor one's thoughts, to a variable degree of success. No one apart from the High Command, residing in Station 1, knew how it worked, but not everyone cared. Thomas cared, he wanted to know, so he could find a way to bypass this infernal device. Rumours had spread, when this was released, that it was a divine creation by Father, made for the people to protect them. Bullshit ,Thomas thought to himself. They were watching him, he knew, from the 2 way screen that everyone called television, and when he looked up, he was momentarily startled to see the face of Father, looking at him from the screen, as though he knew, without Thomas wearing his NODE, that Father knew of his heretical thoughts. He had managed to not show any surprise on his face, by keeping it rigid, with the smile. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind, clearing it of all the hate, and distaste of the party, of the state, and especially of Father. Some were skilled in this sense, keeping their mind empty, hence being able to hide from the party. He put on the NODE, and pressed the small activation button on the side. He felt sure that he didn't need to do this, as he was certain, that the NODE, was never off, even when he deactivated it, that it was always active, listening to him, listening for the slightest slip up, the slightest notion that he, may be a traitor or heretic, or against the party in anyway. It was a very comfortable fit, almost too comfortable, most people don't even remember they had put it on, which is why it was so dangerous. There had been numerous cases of people not taking the NODE off before letting their mind wander. Even with only partial success in monitoring the thoughts of the people, it was still effective, and Thomas had seen people being dragged out of their homes, by KRONOS at 0000 hours and 0100 hours as well, put into an armoured black vehicle, which speeds off toward the Order of Discipline. He shudders at the thought of KRONOS, retaining his smile, he hopes who ever was watching him would think it's the cold. KRONOS was the secret police of NATCOM, created by the party, and meant to serve under the Order of Discipline (abbreviated OrDis) and Order of Law (abbreviated OrLaw) . They were a mix of soldiers and 'officers'. They were a true horror in their black armour and helmet, with red circles for the eyes. They had a gas canister attached to the back of their waste, which supplied O2 to their helmet. Wherever a KRONOS officer was seen, he was seen with either an automatic rifle, or belt fed machine gun. The NODE made a slight beep, entailing that it was activated, and Thomas immediately cleared his mind, and filled it with party propaganda and the praise of Father. Father, the saviour of the World, and NATCOM. Long live Father. He exits the building, and begins his walk to the Order of Entertainment (abbreviated OrEnt). He had his orange ID card, like all OrEnt workers had, and the costumary smile on his face. His role was as the intermediary organiser. He, among many others, receive constant items through pneumatic tubes, and it was his job to read through or look through the material given and send them along their way, to their respective stations. His job, was one the hardest one to do, while maintaining a clear mind, as a lot of material, such as old newspapers or novels may hold some heretical material, or something to discredit the party, he had to ignore it, ask Father for forgiveness (or the OrDis might take him for a traitor) and send that along to the discard furnace room. As he walks, his mind filled with NATCOM propaganda, he crosses the National Centre of Reproduction. Every man and woman citizen of Atlania, have a set day to appear at this building, to participate in sex, and later, the woman must return, when the baby is due, give birth, and leave, without the child. The child will be handed over to the Loyal Citizens Centre, which essentially acts as Orphanage (Orphanages do not exist anymore, as children don't have parents). They are taught and brought up, to be blindly loyal to NATCOM, and to have no regard for their fellow humans. The new generation of children (Thomas's generation was the last, to be born to parents) are bought up as empty husks, with no name, but a serial consisting of numbers and letters, and live for no other reason, other than the party. In a way, they may be thought of as clones, not clones in bodily/physical features, but clones of the mind, all enslaved by NATCOM. The pleasure of sex, had been banned, when the party came to power, the pleasure, joy, sorrow, (essentially, any emotion) that did not benefit the party, were banned, in a way. Joy was still allowed, when it was joy in the party, or something that the party did. Rage was still allowed, and encouraged, if the nation lost a war, against it's enemies. Sorrow was still allowed, to an extent (as sorrow or depression reduced work effectiveness) when the nation or the party suffered. Everything was for the party, and only for the party. Individuality was non-existent (or more accurately, soon going to be non-existent, as Thomas, and his generation was the last with proper names and identities), and soon, the proletariat and lower class man and woman, will only be known as serial numbers, working their entire life, to uphold a party, which in no way helps or benefits them. Thomas doesn't even look toward the NCR, and kept on forward. As he nears the NATCOM site of Orders, he sights a KRONOS officer, with his light machine gun. For some reason, Thomas thought the officer was looking directly him,with his glowing red eyes, and his head breaks off a cold sweat. He hoped his sudden thoughts of the KRONOS officer had not registered in the NODE, as fear may be taken as a sign of suspicion, he walks past the officer and does a small feeble salute, before walking on, slowly returning to normal. As he continued to walk on, he entered the NATCOM Site of Orders, this is where most of NATCOM's order Headquarters resided, apart from OrDis. As he walked through the pristine white marble roads, he saw the walls, all lined with posters, propoganda for the party, such as, 'Father thinks for you.' and others such as, 'Father speaks for you', 'Father fights for you', but the most menacing one was, the poster, showing the lined face of a middle aged man, his lush black hair, mixed with a few silver strands. His bushy moustache, trim and neat, and his black eyes, shinning of suspicion and cruelty, with words 'Father knows.' What does Father know? How does he know it? Questions which had no answer. At that moment, Thomas felt a fear, not the fear that originates in one's head, his brain, not the fear that arises after pondering about the subject, thinking about it, for even a second, it was the fear that rises in your stomach, and slowly rises through your body, till it grasps at your throat, that raw, powerful fear. At that moment, Thomas's thoughts went black, and all he wanted to do was run, as far as his legs could carry him. Then, the very face that instilled in him, such raw fear, and rage, instilled him with an unknown serene. His empty head floods in with the propoganda, as he resumes his walk. He walks into the OrEnt lobby, and stands in line with the other workers reporting for work. The only sound is the beep of the clearance booths, at the front of each queue. Thomas looks at the line in front of him, each and everyone had a NODE on. Slowly, the line inched forward. Thomas was just 4 persons behind the clearance booth, when he saw the KRONOS officers behind their terminals, typing away, clearing the workers to proceed. When Thomas was in front of his line, waiting for the man in the booth to be cleared and to exit, the booth borders suddenly turned to a bright red, and an alarm blares. Thomas was stunned and pushed back his line, but he saw the face of the man within the booth. It was of pure terror, the man's slightly pink face was now snow white, his teeth were chattering uncontrollably, and so were his knees. A squad of KRONOS officers arrived, each carrying a black assault rifle, and barked at the man to exit, guns pointed at him. Before he did exit, the man wet himself, and the surrounding areas, before he was grabbed and dragged away. The alarm suddenly stopped, and the KRONOS officer behind his terminal barked at Thomas to enter. Thomas did so without objection, stepping right into the yellow puddle left by the previous occupant. He kept his mind clear, and waited. The beep was heard, and the booth borders turned to green. Thomas exited and went straight to his office. There he sat in front of the arrangement of tubes, and pressed a button. Soon after, canisters  containing rolled paper and parchment started arriving one by one in the pneumatic tubes. He would take one out, check the material, if it aligns with the set party lore, that he knew about, and would send it on its way to either printing or correction. By the time of 1300, when most of the Order had gone for lunch, Thomas remained at his table a little longer, as was his habit. He was still reading through a few clippings of an old party newspaper, The Daily Worker, when a new canister arrived. This surprised Thomas a bit, as he assumed everyone to be in the mess hall. He places the paper clipping down, and pulls out the paper canister from the tube, and pulls out, what seemed like a torn piece of paper. On it, scrawled neatly, in the centre of the page. Meet at oldtown park, 11th, 2200. For a second, Thomas sat in silence, even the propoganda recording in his mind, seemed to stop, as his mind went blank. As he sat their, trying to comprehend what this was, the door was opened rather abruptly, and Thomas was stunned. He quickly took the paper, pressed a button, which opened a small chute, to the incinerator, when the man entered. The man didn't scream or even speak, but Thomas still heard his voice. This was the doing of the NODE, they allowed citizens to communicate without speaking. "Fordley, what in the name of Father are you doing, it is the lunch hour, come along now."
"Right away, Joseph, was just getting my desk cleared."
Soon, they both left the office and went down to the mess hall. The hall was eerily quiet, with only the sound of steel plates being dragged across a counter-top, and the sound of semi-solid substances falling from a ladle to the plate. Thomas and Joseph got in line, and picked a plate each. Joseph struck up a conversation with Thomas and the man in front of him, known as Robert, through the NODE.
"You saw the new movie that came out?"
Thomas remained ignorant and moved along with the line, but Robert replied. "The one about the Atlania soldiers destroying a Orienara stronghold?"
"Yeah, that same one."
"That was quite a good movie, alot of blood and decapitation. Those Orienara bastard got what they deserved."
"I fully agree."
By this time, they had reached the service area of the line, and the lady behind the counter, hovered a ladle over Thomas's plate for a second before dropping the cream coloured slime onto his plate. He continues down the line, and receives a chunk of black bread and steel mug with more God awful black coffee. He gathers his items and goes and sits on a table, when Robert and Joseph join him. When he neared the table's vicinity, the chatter through the NODE already began to gain volume, and now that he sat down, it seemed like a normal mess hall, as people chatted using their NODEs, yet not one opened their mouth. Thomas sat silently eating the slime, when he saw a lady enter the hall. She was a fair lady of medium height, a normal body, but stunning hair and brown beautiful eyes. For a second, she looked directly at Thomas, and displayed, what Thomas thought, was a smile, before joining the line. Thomas now knew who sent the letter. He had trouble clearing his mind, and forced all these thoughts away, for a later time. He finished his meal and left the hall, just as the siren to continue work came. He returned to his office, and sat down for the evening half. At the beginning, he couldnt seem to move, the image of the fair lady came up, but he quickly buried it, and got to work. At long last, when the siren rang at 2000, he got up, and hurried down back to the clearance booths. He was one of the few to arrive early, and joined a small line. The mess in the morning had been cleared up. The KRONOS officers were at their spots, hammering away at their keyboards. Thomas entered a booth and remained still as he was scanned. When the beep hadnt come in usual time, he started to get a bit nervous. He tried his best to maintain his composure, and remained completely still. Soon the beep came, and the borders turned green, and the door opened. He exited the OrEnt, and walked back to his apartment complex. As he reached his door, it recognised his NODE, and opened up, and he entered. The television was still active, and some music was playing from it. He removes his NODE, and places it on the charging station, before barely making it to his room, and collapsing onto his dingy bed, falling fast asleep, and dreaming of the fair lady he saw that day.

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