The artificial heat and light was a poor substitute for the real sun, but a substitute nonetheless, and White was thankful for it. He raised his face so the imitation rays hit his cheeks, then surveyed the guests in Hancox’s backyard. He wondered how they’d each react to news of the raid later that night. They’d feel a tinge of worry, discuss the wretched sinfulness of the men involved for a few stray minutes, then it would be forgotten, just like the horror of the scorching sun was forgotten after the domes had rendered it harmless. White listened to the burgers sizzle as Hancox flipped them.

“They’re smelling good!” Ramsell said.

“You know it!” Hancox said.

Ramsell turned to White, stretched out his legs, and rested his beer bottle on his pot belly. His white hair glistened in the shrill light. “Life’s good, isn’t it? We’ve got our families, friends, the heat is on, this beautiful backyard.” White smiled, nodded politely and took a sip of beer. It had gone warm and flat. He watched his kids splash each other in the kidney-shaped pool and saw Melanie gossiping with the other wives under the oak gazebo.

“Yeah, we sure have it good,” said Hancox, who’d overheard Ramsell. “Just think, you could be down there, munching on insects and guzzling corn syrup. Instead we have these gorgeous slabs of beef, these delicious beers. You better believe life’s good.” He tossed three burgers into buns, handed one each to White and Ramsell, slumped on the vacant patio chair and tore off a huge chunk of meat and bread with his front teeth. The creases in his dark brown forehead danced to his exaggerated chomping. “You guys ever think about how lucky we were to end up here?” he continued, admiring his backyard and gazing up at the dome’s semi-transparent roof. “I mean, just think about the last fifty years in this damn country. Who in the 2030s would have dared predict all this? They must have thought the world was ending.”

“I’m sure people stayed hopeful,” Ramsell said. “They wouldn’t have been able to achieve what they did if they hadn’t.”

“I get you. Sometimes I wonder where that hope got them though. I know it’s comfortable down there, but they’ve lost so much.”

“They haven’t lost anything they needed. I’m sure they’re grateful just to be surviving. Not only that, they don’t have to work and we give them everything they want, shot through the tubes straight into their units, beamed right into their retinas. I don’t know what more they could ask for, given the circumstances.”

“Sure,” Hancox said, staring contemplatively into his empty beer bottle. “You ever think about the Civil War, wonder about what the other side fought for? All that stuff about preserving the original vision of America, its freedoms, morals and culture. Those guys didn’t want the domes, the underground cities, the AI, they thought it was time to face up to the mess the country had made of itself, rather than just hide from it like they accused the other side of doing.”

“They were hateful radicals.”

“Maybe. It didn’t matter in the end, the Chinese decided for us. The rest is history.” Hancox’s new beer bottle fizzed as he pulled off the cap.

“The Chinese did the right thing, they saved us. What else could we have done?”

“I don’t know, I just can’t help wondering how things could’ve turned out if people had cared more about their liberties and what our ancestors laid out during the Enlightenment. They knew the Chinese were about censorship, surveillance and dictatorship — they knew that all along — but they still sided with them the minute things got tough.”

“It was the only way, you must know that. Don’t forget, they had no idea the sun was going to warm up as fast as it did, or that the air was going to become that toxic.”

Hancox’s eyes were pained and his teeth were grating, as if he was holding himself back from speaking freely. “What about the republic of our founding fathers? Were they right to just give up on it, replace it with this faceless techno-corpocracy that runs on little more than algorithms and platitudes?”

“The constitution ran its course. It’d become a sham anyway, the whole reason the country was falling apart. No one in their right mind would have said that old nonsense was the best way to deal with the situation. They needed order and efficiency so they could save as many people as possible. It was no time for arguing about politics or speaking of rights and ideals.”

“Where does it end, though? When would the Coalition ever admit it’s gone too far? And even if it did, how could it be stopped now? Take the past twenty years alone; some would say the Great Wipe was the most totalitarian move in the history of-”

“Jamie-,” Ramsell interrupted.

“I know, I know, I’m just saying, the sensors, the laws, the medication, when will it ever be enough? When will the Coalition decide the underground is as safe and stupid as it needs to be to make sure no one down there ever questions anything, they all just obey and consume until they drop dead?

“You’re being unreasonable. Look at the crime rates underground, it’s virtually at nil, a total miracle. Something had to be done about toxic masculinity. We just had to accept it and do something about it once and for all, and we’re all better off as a result.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. What do you think, Alex? You’re staying quiet.” They both looked at White expectantly.

“I stay out of these conversations. With my job all it takes is one person overhearing me say the wrong thing and I’m done.”

Hancox let out a disappointed chuckle. “You can talk to us though, right? It’s not like we’re going blabbing.” White smirked sheepishly. “I remember how you used to be,” Hancox continued. “You wouldn’t have stayed quiet about this shit when we were kids. You weren’t scared to speak the truth. You were funny as hell too, man. I know you had to adapt, we all did, but listen, we don’t have to go around pretending we magically became new people just because the Coalition came along.” He stared into White’s eyes with a sinister grin, like he was looking at his soul. “I know you’re still fucked up,” he said.

“Come on, that’s not fair,” Ramsell said. “I think you’ve had one too many beers.”

“Ah, he knows I’m playing.”

“Guys, I have to get going, big show tonight,” White said. He downed the last of his beer, stood up and placed his hand on Hancox’s shoulder. “Thanks Jamie, the burger was great, the house is looking fantastic.”

“Look, now you made him leave,” Ramsell said. Hancox tilted back his head and laughed with an open mouth.

“No, it’s not- really, it’s a big show tonight. I’ll see you guys later, enjoy the rest of the day.”

XIII.

Caleb’s second time getting into the caves had been straightforward; the guards verified his identity in VRD and he was in. When he and Ty entered the common area they were greeted by the sight of two bare-chested men fighting in a makeshift circular ring formed by hundreds of cheering spectators. Caleb watched in near disbelief as the fighters, one of whom looked somewhat bigger and stronger than the other, grappled on the floor, which was covered in blood and sweat. The smaller man wriggled free and stumbled to his feet, only for the larger one to stand too and elbow him in the cheekbone after dodging a tired right cross. He plunged to the ground and dark red blood spurted out of his face. The men at the front of the crowd rushed in to protect him while the victorious fighter raised his arms in the air. Soon after the crowd dispersed and a state of relative calm returned to the caves.

“What was all that about?” Caleb asked, turning to Ty with wide open eyes.

“Fight night, I guess we missed most of it.” Seeing the men in combat had touched a virgin part of Caleb’s soul, giving him a similar feeling to the one he had listening to McGee the night before, a sort of bubbling, visceral rush of energy.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said, “why did we leave during that talk last night? It was interesting, I wanted to hear what he had to say.” Ty seemed irritated by the question.

“Listen, brother, the way I see it is, we’re here to become better men, we’re here to laugh, to create, to learn, to be among like minds who care about what it means to be a man. The problem with folks like McGee is they make dudes feel like this is about going after the Coalition and causing a revolution, but it’s not, and even if it was, we wouldn’t stand a chance.” He paused, looking pensive. “We have a good thing going here. If we allow ourselves to get too riled up we’ll do something stupid and make it all for nothing. What we’re doing is enough. This isn’t about toppling the Coalition, it’s about building a new world outside of theirs. That takes time, effort and patience, it takes having honor and an unwavering belief in our values. It takes accepting that we probably won’t even be around to freely enjoy the fruits of what we’re creating. The people who want a quick-fix revolution just aren’t ready to accept those challenges, because it’s much easier to go out in a blaze of glory than truly gear your life towards higher, noble principles.”

Ty’s words made Caleb feel a wave of shame at how easily McGee’s words had induced a seething anger in him. “So, this is all we can do?”

“This is it, brother.” A roar came from the benches near the stage and Caleb turned to see a man emerging onto the wooden platform. He and Ty made their way over and took a standing space behind the benches, where a good portion of the men in the cave had gathered. It was another comedian. He had a crooked nose and a weak chin that was trying to grow stubble. His style of comedy was different — not exactly better or worse — to the comedian Caleb had watched the night before. The jokes relied on him speaking quickly and anxiously, whereas the other had been assured and measured in his delivery. One of his bits was an extended sequence in which he savagely impersonated a medicated man taking orders from and grovelling to his girlfriend. Another was a side-splitting rant that ridiculed the Coalition’s incessant endorsement of voluntary homosexuality as a means to, as they termed it, “depressurize the atmosphere of lust for females among the male population”. The comedian repeatedly said the Coalition was trying to turn him into a ‘faggot’. Caleb thought the word sounded funny; every time the comedian said it he giggled. He wasn’t exactly sure why it was so hilarious, perhaps it was the crispness of the ‘ət’ as it bounced off the ‘g’, which itself punctuated the satisfying ‘fæ’ with a delicious punch. The crowd lapped all of it up, laughing and applauding wildly.

From where Caleb was standing the laughter’s volume almost drowned out the bang that came from the common area entrance and reverberated through the cave. He swiveled his head and saw billowing clouds of smoke and chips of wood and rock scattered on the ground. Before another thought entered his mind most of the men around him were already up and moving. Among the shoving mass of bodies he felt Ty’s giant hand tugging on his arm. “Move!” Ty said, dragging Caleb further from the entrance. They pushed through the dispersing crowd to the closest free table and Ty tipped it over so they could skid onto their knees and take cover. Caleb peeked over the table and saw a line of Security military drones that had become visible through the clearing smoke. Through the manic shouting dim fragments of a machinelike announcement came from the entrance. “…on your knees, hands on your… quarantine in effect.” Caleb dropped his head back below the table.

“What the fuck is going on?” he yelled.

“Just wait here! Keep your head down, they’re not shooting.” Ty watched the scene unfold, still and alert like a hawk. “Oh fuck,” he said.

“What?”

The drones spoke again, this time louder. “Failure to comply will be met with the use of deadly force.” Caleb looked over the table and saw men kneeling out in the open with their hands on their heads, facing the drones. Others had armed themselves with rifles and taken cover behind the furnishings. “Hold your fire!” Caleb heard one man shout. “Ready to engage!” said another.

“Failure to comply will be met with the use of deadly force,” said the drones.

Ty pushed Caleb down by the shoulder and raised himself up further. “Don’t fucking shoot!” he screamed at the top of his voice, cupping his dark hands around his mouth. “Do not fucking shoot!” His voice was flooded by the sound of clattering gunfire and Caleb stuffed his fingers in his ears to muffle the deafening pops. A thunderous rattle resonated from the entrance through the cave and Caleb heard cries of agony and the sound of metal and wood being punctured and ripped apart close by. Ty flew backwards as if he had been slammed by a hurtling train. A gush of red streamed out of his forehead and trailed behind him as he collapsed onto his back, pupils rolling above his eyelids.

“No!” Caleb said, squeezing his eyes closed in reaction to the sight of Ty’s limp body. The rattle persisted until the men’s gunfire and screams died out. When it stopped an ominous silence filled the room, and Caleb opened his eyes and looked at Ty’s lifeless face in horror.

“Failure to comply will be met with the use of deadly force,” said the drones. Caleb built up the courage to slowly lift his head from below the table. The men who had got to their knees were still alive. Everyone else was dead, covered in blood, some with limbs torn from their carcasses. Two of about a dozen drones lay flat on their sides with sparks fizzing out of them, and the others had begun to creep forward into the cave. Caleb ducked below the table and listened to the drones draw closer. The shuffle of footsteps came from the entrance, and soon after a man’s voice bellowed out. “Coalition Security! Down on your knees, hands on your head!” Caleb adjusted his stance to kneel and raised his hands to his head. He shut his eyes and noticed the frantic throbbing of his heart. The Security officers worked their way through the cave, barking orders at each other and the surrendering men. “Confirmed neutralized” and “confirmed secured” they said repeatedly, their voices drawing closer. Caleb felt the presence of a drone hovering beside him and a prick stabbed his left arm. He became drowsy and crumpled onto the cold floor, staying conscious just long enough to see the murky silhouette of a Security officer standing over him.

XIV.

White watched on from behind his on-set desk as the agitated ensemble of KMnet showrunners, producers and executives hurriedly prepared to go on air. Huge lights bathed the set’s fine oak furnishings and glistening red and blue backdrop. Sweat dampened the back of White’s fine cotton shirt. Taverick, sitting motionless in the executive booth above, had tense eyes fixed on him. For a split second, among all the commotion, the thought of going off script and making a statement that would throw the Coalition, the underground and his own life into disarray crossed White’s mind.

A showrunner, an elegant Chinese woman White had only ever seen wearing the same tight-fitting dark blue suit, walked onto the set. The long bony heels of her shoes made a clacking sound against the hard black floor. “Mr. White,” she said, “we are ready. The raid was a success and our story is straight. We’re on air in one minute.” White nodded dispassionately and watched her walk off set. The crew took their positions and an anxious hush came over the studio. “Live in three, two,” the head producer called out. White stared down the camera lens with a grave expression and read the prompter.

“Hello and welcome to Tonight with Alexavier White! This evening we bring you breaking news from Under-Toronto, where the Corporate Coalition of North America has carried out a successful raid on a malicious faction of non-medicated male citizens operating from an illegal cave network outside the underground city. Earlier this evening, Security military drones breached the caves and neutralized the threat, doing everything they could to prevent loss of life and injury. Surviving members of the criminal group are being transferred to detention centers across the state of Ontario for interrogation. The suspected leader of the operation, a Caucasian named Jared Barnes, is among those detained.” White waited for the prompter to catch up. “This hate-based organization was using technology designed to disrupt the speech sensors, and had smuggled in firearms and other illegal equipment given to them by above-ground Coalition connections, who Security teams are in the process of apprehending. Members of the group were participating in extreme violations of Offense & Criticism and Toxic Masculinity laws, committing reckless acts of brutality and manic oppression. I’d like to take this opportunity to praise the Security intelligence operatives involved, whose courageous work in Under-Toronto uncovered and eradicated this parasitical movement before it was able to cause significant damage. On behalf of the entire nation, I also thank the Security officers who risked their lives by entering the caves to secure the area and detain the suspects. Such bravery is what allows the overwhelming majority of good citizens to go on living in equity, harmony and respect.” White paused for effect. “People of the Corporate Coalition of North America, if you have any information you believe may be related to the organization in Under-Toronto, or any other illegal gatherings across the country, please contact Security immediately. With that, we bring you a statement from President Cherry Zhing.”

The face of the President appeared on the studio screens. Her hair was shorter than it was the last time White saw her, and looked like it had been cut with a bowl placed over it. Her bright red lips were pursed and her head was tilted up slightly, injecting what she was about to say with an aura of consequence. “Citizens, as a nation we value nothing more than inclusion, empathy and tolerance. The group of males discovered in Under-Toronto tonight brazenly went against everything we stand for. I am relieved to announce that the threat they posed was dealt with as safely and cleanly as the situation allowed. As a result of these developments, we have made a commitment to strengthening Security apparatus throughout the underground cities. In case there are men out there who still need reminding, hatred and violence will not be tolerated in any form. On behalf of the Corporate Coalition of North America, I wish you a pleasant evening. In AI we trust.” The screen went dark and the prompter instructed White to smile.

“OK, folks,” he said, “let’s get on with the show.”

XV.

Caleb squinted and shook his head in an effort to focus his blurred vision, and writhed instinctively when he felt the tight straps around his wrists and ankles. The room was similar to the one he’d been held in three days earlier, with the same stationary drone in the corner and the DO NOT MOVE sign above. He dropped his head back against the plastic chair and exhaled despairingly when the memory of what had happened hit him. Before he had chance to collect his thoughts the door zipped open and two Chinese women walked in and sat opposite. The one to his left had pristine straight black hair and a rather cute button nose, and the other was decidedly unfeminine, with butch hands and unpleasant acne scars across her pale face. They both observed Caleb with critical eyes.

“Mr. Thompson,” said the woman sitting to his right, “in light of tonight’s events we just rushed through the urine sample you submitted a few days ago.” She gave Caleb a chance to respond, but he chose to stay quiet. “Why did you stop taking the medication?” Caleb looked past her with a forlorn stare. “Our data indicates you stopped taking it around three weeks ago. Is that accurate?”

“Yes,” Caleb said. The woman to his left switched into VRD and tapped commands into her palm.

“How did you become involved in the illegal gathering?” asked the woman on the right. Caleb pondered his options, and decided telling the truth was the only one that made any sense.

“I met someone who invited me to visit. Your drones killed him.” He shuddered as he spoke the words that made Ty’s gruesome death real. “Tonight was only my second time. I had no intentions of harming anyone.”

“Mr. Thompson, I’m sure you understand that your very attendance in the caves and participation in the activities occurring within were inherently harmful.” A wave of hopelessness washed over Caleb. “Who was he, the man who invited you?” the woman continued.

“His name was Ty James.” Tears brimmed his eyelids.

“How did you meet him?”

“On a shuttle. He started talking to me, then asked me to come to his unit.”

“Tyrell James, black male, Under-Toronto, prostitute,” said the woman in VRD. “Confirmed deceased tonight at 9:26pm.” Her words made a blast of vivid anger rise up in Caleb.

“I don’t understand why your drones killed him,” he said, his hands and feet straining against the oppressive straps. “He wasn’t attacking. They didn’t kill the other men who surrendered, so why did they kill him?”

“We cannot confirm the details of the events, Mr. Thompson. The drones’ targeting technology is extremely advanced, however it cannot always account for the possibility of stray bullets or shrapnel in dynamic combat situations.” She paused and narrowed her eyes. “Please remember that we are asking the questions, Mr. Thompson.” Caleb blinked to clear the water from his eyes. “Besides, whatever Mr. James told you, we can only assume it was of a slanderous, deceptive and offensive nature. Now, moving onto why we’re here, it’s obvious to us that your dangerous behaviour is a direct result of temporary non-medication. In such circumstances we consider whether a higher dosage combined with time spent in rehabilitation could be enough to help offenders reintegrate into civilized society. In your case, based on your clean record prior to this recent outburst of criminal activity, we have decided on a five-year rehabilitation period to be served under strict medical supervision. Assuming you maintain a record of good behaviour, you will then be free to re-enter Under-Toronto on probation.” Caleb listened in grim defeat as his fate was revealed. More than anything he was angry with himself for being so careless after dumping Posimasc™, for being swept up in the fantasy of the caves, for daring to believe the Coalition could be so audaciously deceived.

“Mr. Thompson, do you understand the conditions of your rehabilitation?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You’ll be transferred to the rehabilitation facility immediately. First, however, you’re permitted to send one voice message to a person of your choosing, to inform them of your absence. You’ll have no communication with the outside world during your rehabilitation, so we advise you to make full use of this opportunity.” The straps around Caleb’s wrists loosened and he pulled out his hands gratefully. “You have five minutes to compose the message and await a response.”

Caleb switched into VRD. “Send voice message to Tiffany,” he said, and the voice message application opened and began recording. “Tiffany, you probably saw the news tonight.” He paused, looking for the right words. “I got mixed up in it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I swear I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” His voice cracked. “They’re sending me away for five years. Please try not to worry about me. I love you. Send message.” Tiffany came online. Seconds passed with Caleb seized by agonizing tension, then she went offline. He watched and waited with dwindling hope for her to come back and respond.

“OK, Mr. Thompson, that’s five minutes. Thank you for your cooperation. Drone, escort citizen to ward 967.” The drone sprang to life and hovered towards Caleb. A dart lodged in his left arm and his consciousness slipped away.

Epilogue

Caleb swirled the hot cup of coffee-flavored soymilk and the gooey liquid folded over itself decadently. A repeat of the previous night’s episode of Tonight with Alexavier White! played on the Café™’s holographic screens above while the handful of customers sat mute with their eyes lit a dim blue, every so often getting up to collect beverages and snacks from the vending machines.

Looking out, eyes vacant, from the front window over the Square, Caleb was lost in thought about how little had changed underground during his time away and the two years since his release. He thought about Tiffany and his old life and about Ty and the caves. He thought about the endless drudgery of his time in rehabilitation and the unconditional love of his parents, who took him in when he got out. The Posimasc™ was beginning to wear off. This time he would be more careful, he told himself over and over.

A man walked into the Café™, collected a drink from the vending machine and sat down. Caleb watched him stare into space and blow periodically on the frothy liquid. He had long, scruffy blonde locks and a snub nose, and looked a few years younger than Caleb. Something about him was engrossing, perhaps the unmistakable humanity in his eyes, the apprehensive way they shifted around the Café™. He reminded Caleb of the day he met Ty on the shuttle, and made him feel as though Ty’s spirit and the spirit of the caves were alive in the air. Without thinking, he stood up, walked over to the man and sat across from him. The man examined him uneasily. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“Sorry to bother you.” Caleb leaned in and whispered. “It’s just that I don’t see many people in here who aren’t constantly zoned out in VRD, so I thought I’d say hello. You having a good day?”

“Who wants to know?”

Caleb held his hand out across the table. “Caleb.” The man analyzed the hand with suspicion, then clutched it hesitantly.

“Josh,” he said. Caleb looked up at White’s loathsome face on the holographic screen above.

“Great, isn’t he?” he asked Josh with a mischievous grin.

“Sure, I guess,” Josh said, smirking back but at the same time scrutinizing Caleb’s eyes.

“I just heard him talking about those caves they found here back in 2080,” Caleb said. “About how awful that whole thing was. I sure hope nothing like that ever happens again.” He took a sip of soymilk and gave Josh an almost imperceptible wink. Josh’s smile grew wider and hopeful. “Don’t you?” Caleb continued.

“Of course,” Josh said, “that’d be terrible.” He scrunched his cheeks and put his hand over his mouth, as if stifling laughter.

Twitter: @adamwinfield

Blog: Palimpsest