2066 – and things take a turn for the worse

Friday 25th September

Diary Entry – 20660518

“I am on the run.  Again.  I have broken into what appears to be an old uninhabited small industrial unit on the outskirts of G. L.  At least there is micro-power and (cold) water here, so I can clean myself up a bit.  I should have known that the almost ‘idyllic life’ I had discovered in Hastings couldn’t last long.  Why is it that whenever you feel that things are going well, or at least not so bad, then something just has to come along to fuck it up.  At least it wasn’t me this time.

The hotel was raided a couple of nights ago.  I was just drifting off into sleep when I heard an almighty crash.  Doors splintering, glass shattering and yells and screams: Charlene, naked beside me, jumped up screaming “The Polis, the Polis, quick get up.”

What the fuck? I thought.  But she was tugging at me, to get up.  I only just managed to get some clothes on and grabbing my laptop, stuffed it into the bag I’d got from Dan and Emily, before the ballroom doors burst open and the Polis charged in.  Dogs slavering on their leashes, the Polis shouting, women screaming, the glare of super-beam torches blinding you; I ran for the kitchen door, and was half-way through when I was whacked hard from behind by a metal stick.  It hit me across the shoulders and sent a burning pain through my brain.  I wasn’t used to pain; I’d gotten into the habit of taking tabs for pain relief at the slightest sign of discomfort.  But this was different, this wasn’t an odd muscle ache, this was searing burning pain.  I was dragged screaming back into the ballroom, and kicked and beaten by more metal rods.  Each blow felt like burning hell, raining down on me time and again.  Super-beams shining in my eyes, I scrunched up into a little ball and blows rained down on me, each one making me scrunch up tighter, hands trying to protect my head at all costs.  Eventually the beating and the kicking stopped.  All the time the dogs were straining on their leads, barking wildly and only inches from my face.  I could see the spittle and felt their disgusting dog-breath in my face.  I realised that this was it.  It was all over for me now.   This might even be the end; this might be my death.

We were being rounded up, cleared out of the ballroom, dragged, pushed and kicked down the grand staircase, and sprawled in a heap of half-clothed and bleeding bodies on the black and white marble-tiled lobby floor.  The Polis were round us in a ring, shining their beams in our frightened faces and shouting and laughing at us.  Calling us all sorts of names and laughing and letting the dogs come rushing in at us, and then pulling them back just before they bit one of us.  We huddled together for some sort of protection.  Then suddenly I felt hot liquid on my face.  What could it be?  Then I smelt that unmistakable stink of piss in the air.  They were pissing on us.  Yes, actually pissing, waving their fat cop cocks around and spraying us with piss.

“You dirty fucking scum.  Fucking cunts, that’s all you are.” They screamed at us, as the streams of piss slowly dried up, and they put their cocks away.  Then they reached in and grabbing an arm here, a leg there, pulling and dragging us out into the freezing night air.  Rounded up and herded into a rag, taggle bunch in the middle of the road we watched as they went to work.  They had huge planks of wood and a nail machine, and boarded up the front of the old hotel we had called home.  All the time the dogs were barking and trying to get at us, coming within inches of us, so that we had to huddle together in an ever tighter group.  Some of us were naked, some were sobbing, some were still drunk, one or two were even defiant; shouting back at ‘the bastards’ even as the rods beat down on them again. I had never been so scared in my life.  Surely this was it, I thought.  They are bound to face-rec me now, and drag me back; my pathetic attempt at escape over.  Sure to be down strata-ed, maybe even clagged now.  What a pathetic way for it to all end.  I was just waiting to be shoved in the back of some Polis van, shivering, cold and pathetic, defeated and dragged back to face my worst fears.

Then within minutes they were gone.  Just as soon as they had arrived they were gone, back into the awful cold black night.  They bundled their dogs into the back of a big blue van, and got into their autos and drove off, leaving us cold and crying in the middle of the street.  It was pitch dark now their beams were off, and the tail-lights slid away into the black night air, red bars that slowly faded as the damp mist closed around us again.  I looked up at the stars glimmering in the night sky, and though I was cold, bruised and hurting and a confirmed rationalist too, I still mouthed a silent thank-you into the dark.

Charlene came over and cried on my shoulder, “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” She cried.  “They do this every couple of months, just when we think they might have forgotten about us, they come back.  They always come back.  Why don’t they leave us alone?  What harm are we doing to anyone?  We just want to be left on our own.”

I tried to comfort her and stroked her matted hair, “There there, it’s over now.  They’ve gone.  It’s okay now, they have gone.”   Almost wanting to believe it myself.

“But they’ll be back, soon as they get bored again,” She cried, “don’t you realise that.  It’s all a bit of fun for them. They know that unless they actually kill us, they can’t get rid of us.  This is just amusement for them.  We are just fucking shit to them, less than shit.  They hate us, and they will be back.  Maybe in a couple of months, maybe later.  But they will be back.”

“Hey come on” Ben shouted in the darkness. “There’s a door at the back they haven’t boarded up, I know the way.  Come on, we’ll catch our death out here.”

And we followed him round to the back of the hotel and crawled back to our lair, like the defeated, broken rabble we were.  But I knew this was it, this was the breaking point for me.  I had to be on my way – and without Charlene too.  I felt sorry for her, but I knew she would just drag me down.  I had to do this on my own.  I would miss her though, her physical warmth, her kindness, and the blowjobs too.  Strange that I had enjoyed that so much when it came to it.  Syn-sex was better physically, far more accomplished, but the excitement of having a real live person licking you was incredible, even with the bad teeth, the smell of her and that she was already a crinkly, somehow none of that had mattered.  It was the touch of another human that I enjoyed.  But I would have to leave all of that behind me now.  I couldn’t let emotion cloud my judgment, and anyway what chance would the two of us have had.  Charlene was un-crammed, she knew no other life, and I knew that no matter what comfort she could give me I would have to leave her sooner or later.

She slumped on our mattress, crept under the filthy duvet and was asleep and snoring in minutes.  I silently sat up and groped my way back into my clothes, picked up by bag and crept like a thief out of the ballroom, through the kitchens, and out the back door.  I was heading for G. L. again.  Whatever the future held I couldn’t risk being constantly beaten up like that.  And the next time they might drag us in and face-rec me and it would all be over anyway.  I was bleeding and sore all over, I just wanted to find a place on my own for a while, away from everyone and so I headed across the fields in the direction I guessed was London.”