Pyrel turned on his rickety, old computer and waited for the logo of the Collective to disappear. He executed a script that disconnected his computer from the grid. Suspicious keywords were tracked over the network and the guards would be at his place in a few minutes if they found out.
This script was based on a loophole that Pyrel and Sirek had discovered a few years ago. It allowed them to search for anything by scrambling the actual keywords without having the Collective find out. They’d only used it once to search for his father’s name. They hadn’t found anything.
‘Other access,’ he entered into the search box.
0 results the screen flashed.
‘Outside world,’ he typed in.
- A place of death and despair…
- Beyond Olgamarf; nuclear warfare and dead countries
- Gerog Brylich was the greatest ruler of all time for…
‘Pyrel,’ his mother shouted, ‘get some vegetables for dinner!’
‘Yes mother,’ he said.
Pyrel closed the browser and turned off the computer.
The sun had almost set by the time he reached the store. The old man filled his bag with half a kilo of potatoes and Pyrel swiped his allowance card. Expires 6 June 2021, it read. Three days left, he thought.
Pyrel hated this time of the day. The streetlights were still off, the sun had set – but there was still a soft glow in the sky. He walked through the narrow alley, holding a bag in his right hand. The walls on either side of the alley always made him restless. They were almost eight feet high, and after every few meters, there would be a gap that led to the entrance of a building.
In this part of town, the buildings were fourteen floors high, with six families staying on each floor. While traveling to the Education Center, his train would pass through Sector A – the elite part of town. Each family there had a house to themselves, with beautiful gardens and lawns. Pyrel wondered if they were happy.
The soft glow of sunset had now given way to a dreary darkness. Pyrel shuddered as he looked at the wall next to him. It was painted with the images of people rejoicing the War Against Crime. It had been Gerog Brylich’s greatest victory; eradicating crime from Olgamarf and making it the most peaceful country in the world. Pyrel had read about it when he was just eight.
‘Psst!’ somebody said.
Pyrel stopped.
‘Psst! Pyrel!’
Pyrel turned around. There was no one behind him.
‘Here, to your left.’
There was an entrance to a deserted, dilapidated building to his left. Pyrel could spot a figure hiding behind a column.
‘We’ve disabled the cameras on this road. Come fast!’ the man hissed.
Pyrel took a step forward cautiously. He could see the silhouette of a man peeking out from behind the column.
‘Who are you?’ he whispered.
'This is about Sirek. I need to tell you something important,’ the man said.
'Tell me.'
'You have to come with me. Trust me, this is very important.'
Pyrel looked behind him. There was nobody on the street.
‘Quick,’ the man said.
Pyrel followed the man. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness. The building smelled like mold. Pyrel covered his nose.
The man had a heavily bearded face and tufts of white hair poking out at odd angles from the top of his head. He led Pyrel towards a pile of trash on the ground and pushed it with his feet to reveal an almost invisible wooden trapdoor.
‘Climb down,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Just go! I will explain everything!’
Coughing from the reek above, Pyrel lifted his body down the trapdoor and held onto the cold metal ladder.
‘Hurry up!’ the man hissed.
Pyrel searched for the steps in the darkness and climbed down as fast as he could. His heart was beating fast and his throat felt dry. After a few seconds, he felt the floor underneath his feet. There was complete darkness here. The trap-door closed above him and the man climbed down.
‘What is happening?’ Pyrel asked.
‘Sirek was taken from us, but we know he told you to come and meet him,’ the man said, keeping a hand on Pyrel’s shoulder.
Pyrel looked around. There was complete darkness inside.
‘You can enable the street camera now,’ the bearded man said.
‘Alright, the camera is now live,’ a girl's voice came from somewhere in the darkness.
‘Can we turn on the lights?’ a gruff, manly voice asked.
‘Yes, I closed the trapdoor,’ the man replied.
Pyrel heard the click of a switch and the room lit up with a soft, yellow glow. Three computers stood on desks in the tiny room. A boy and a girl his age were sitting in front of them. There was barely any space to move.
‘Welcome to our humble abode, Pyrel,’ the bearded man said.
‘I need to go home. My mother is waiting for me,’ Pyrel said.
‘We know you don’t have much time. We want to show you something,’ the bearded man said.
‘What?’
‘Do the words other access and outside world sound familiar to you?’
‘How did you-’
‘We know what you searched for. The script you wrote to prevent the Collective from spying has a critical flaw. Of course, the Collective can’t decipher what you are typing, but we can,’ the bearded man said.
‘How did you do it?’
‘I am Derek Filip, Sirek Filip’s father. He showed us your script and we discovered some loopholes in it. We've improved your script to be almost undetectable now.’
He handed Pyrel his bag of potatoes.
‘Sirek shared the script? Is he still here?'
‘He was taken from us. I told you. He’s gone.’
‘What is this place?’
‘Our workplace,’ the girl sitting in front of him said.
She had a pointy nose and a smirk on her face that made Pyrel angry for some reason.
‘Your workplace? The Collective gives people jobs below houses reeking of mold and garbage?’ he asked.
‘I sense sarcasm. Are you sure you want him here, Derek?’ pointy nose said.
‘He’s good at what he does,’ Derek replied.
‘Look, whatever it is, I don’t want to know. My family is waiting for me,’ Pyrel said.
‘Pyrel, look at these pictures,’ the man with the gruff voice said, turning a monitor towards Pyrel.
A thriving city with buildings taller than any he’d ever seen before; fountains, lakes, people walking on huge footpaths, beautiful cars, and colorful streets met Pyrel’s dumbfounded eyes.
‘Where is this? Is this in the capital?’
‘This isn’t our country,’ Derek said.
‘What?’
‘Yes. There is no nuclear warfare or death or despair outside.’
The man typed in ‘Olgamarf’ into a completely different website. The website spewed out the results quickly:
Olgamarf : the land of patriotic suicides
How I escaped Olgamarf…
Gerog Brylich told us our country was the safest, but it’s the most dangerous
‘Is this a joke?’ Pyrel asked.
‘We need your help. Will you help us?’ Derek asked.
‘Help you? I don’t even understand what is happening!’
‘I understand that it’s all too much to take in at once. But this is what other access is. It’s accessing the outside world’s internet and seeing the truth for what it is,’ Derek said.
‘There is a war going on outside and you’re falling for some outlandish propaganda!’ Pyrel shouted.
‘Can you please not shout? This place is not soundproof,’ pointy nose said calmly.
‘Look, just let me go.’
Derek put a hand on Pyrel’s shoulder and sighed.
‘Pyrel, there is not much I can do to convince you besides showing you the truth. There is a better world outside. We have all been cheated of it.’
‘Lies,’ Pyrel whispered.
‘My son didn’t commit suicide Pyrel. He was taken from us,’ Derek said.
‘What? Why?’
‘They caught him trying to rig the Education Center’s network so that everyone could get other access. He wanted to test if his theory could work on a small network before he tried on a bigger one.’
Pyrel retreated towards the ladder and held his bag of potatoes tighter.
‘There is a reason we chose you Pyrel. It’s not just your skill with computers or your association with Sirek,’ Derek said.
‘Then?’
‘I knew your father.’
‘How?’
‘He was my colleague. We were good friends before the Collective caught him trying to manipulate cameras to record false data. He was one of us too.’
‘What was his name?’
‘Arino Sesta. He had a scar running across his right palm, and steely grey eyes that seemed to look right through you.’
‘How do you know this?'
‘Trust me Pyrel. I am speaking the truth. Think about it. Does anything that we do make sense? We’re all being used for the purposes of the Collective; slaves for an unknown cause; discarded when we are no longer useful.’
Pyrel took a step up the ladder.
‘I need to go home. Now,’ he whispered.
‘Alright. I’ll help you sneak out of here. Levenia, take care of the cameras for me,’ Derek said.
Pyrel climbed up the ladder, his head ringing with Derek’s words, and his hands clammy and sweaty from the effort he was exerting to process what he’d just learned.
‘If you change your mind, you know where to find us. You have three days left before the Collective starts pressurizing you to become a martyr,’ Derek said.
‘Thank you,’ Pyrel said, as he hurried out of the building and began walking along the footpath.
‘Pyrel!’ Derek hissed.
Pyrel turned around. Derek had a tired look on his face, like a man who had almost given up.
‘Please help us,’ he muttered.
Pyrel turned around and began running back home. He felt a sharp pain shoot across his left thigh as the bag of potatoes rammed against it. He was very late, and he was going to have to lie to his mother to cover it up.