The Society's Demon Read online

  Of course, the Fathers weren’t happy with this threat to their empire, filling the people with food, education, and ideas of freedom. At first, there were attacks on the Society staff, bombs planted in the square, attempts to intimidate those who turned up to study. But it seemed ANI could almost literally smell trouble, or at least explosives, and the bombs were quickly defused, those carrying weapons identified, and the bullies out-gunned.

  There had been deaths of both students and Bruisers, but superior fire power, technology and the driving will of the Society to succeed had completely overwhelmed anything the Fathers could muster. Now, there were many fewer incidents, and those well away from the square.

  Now the CES tower dominated the square, with its TVs constantly broadcasting. Anyone that wished to learn, but was not yet comfortable with the idea of using headsets that utilized sound wave technology, could sit out in the square and learn in a more traditional manner. Zeta and the other kids would be there, as arranged. He didn’t like her being so close to the Quantum Society building, but he was loath to tell her that. It would reveal just how much he cared about her. That would be a mistake for many reasons.

  As he made his way toward the fresh food market, Jonas wiped away any traces of emotion that still lingered from his encounter with Zeta. He couldn’t afford to let his mind be clouded by feelings, especially the confused kind that whirled around like bricks in a washing machine, destroying the inner workings. Emotions were useless to him. He had no parents, no siblings, and no family. For as far back as he could remember, apart from the other homeless kids, Jonas had been alone. Other kids still had mothers, fathers less so, but in their case, they could afford to love and to care because at least it gave them something to fight for. Jonas on the other hand had always fought for himself. It wasn’t a matter of choice because it was the only option, at least until he perfected the art of caring for himself.

  It had helped he was a wanderer, an explorer with keen senses and a mind that assimilated information quickly. Other kids, he began to realize from an early age, didn’t think like him, or even learn as he did. It seemed that while Jonas scoured the land both within Sohalo and around it, learning and adjusting, they continued to scrape and dig in the dead, red earth at their feet. They survived the hard way. Jonas watched, and listened, and practiced. While he copied farming techniques from the farmers occupying the plains to the south, the other kids fought over scraps. While he snuck into the more well-off residential areas to steal what he could, never taking enough to cause a backlash, the other kids got into trouble stealing on their own doorstep. It was only once he got older, approaching his teens, that he realized, despite all his effort to do otherwise, he did care. He was changing. No longer could he ignore the other kids, and watch them make mistake after mistake. Kids like Zeta who had a home tried to help the dozens of worse off kids, but they had nothing to give—except moral support, friendship perhaps—empty gestures really because it wouldn’t make much difference in the long run.

  And that’s why Jonas began to help them. For now, he gave them food whenever he could, not from his farms, because they were top secret, but from the money he made from the things he stole. Recently, especially the more he met Zeta, he lay on his own at night in the grassland to the west and considered teaching them everything he knew about survival. Knowing Zeta, and knowing that she cared about him, had made him feel when feelings had always been useless, dangerous even.

  He had to maintain his cool at all times because it wasn’t just Riian and his gang he had to look out for. Sohalo teemed with men and even women who preyed on the weak. There were very few jobs, and those there were paid very little, barely enough to feed those working, let alone their families. Some turned to crime, some turned to drugs, and some, like Jonas, were able to fashion a life by living on their wits.

  Wits alone, however, did not guarantee survival. You had to be as hard as the packed red earth under your feet, and as unpredictable as the streams of crud that broke its surface, appearing and disappearing as quickly as they appeared, leaving only a darkened stain and a gathering of garbage behind.

  “Jonas?” It was a voice he recognized.

  He turned to find himself looking into the bright eyes of a boy he once thought dead. “Nico,” said Jonas, trying hard not to stare at the boy. He didn’t look the same. “It’s been a long time.” Jonas examined the boy discreetly, masking his curiosity under a veil of surprise. He looked vibrant, more alive than Jonas remembered.

  Nico was a blend of Indian and black descent. Things hadn’t always been easy for him and his parents in Sohalo. They were often treated as outcasts. Sohalo was for blacks. Whites and mixed-races weren’t welcome, but his family had nowhere else to go. Jonas hadn’t seen Nico in weeks. He had wondered if something had happened to him. He didn’t dare imagine what. At the time of his disappearance, Nico had looked on the verge of starvation, his body more like a withered tree than a human being’s, but this boy radiated life.

  “Well, it’s been about two months. A lot has happened since I last saw you,” he said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “You won’t believe the things I’ve seen,” he said, his voice full of wonder as if he’d discovered a magical world behind this one. “And the things I’ve learned too. I’ve so much to tell you…” Something caught his attention. He cocked his head like a dog and sniffed. “But first…”

  He sniffed the air again and grabbed at Jonas’ arm, the strength in his grip surprising Jonas further. “You smell that?” He breathed in, closing his eyes and lifting his face to the stone of the bridge passing over them.

  “Smell what?” asked Jonas, “the stench of rot?” Nico was acting really strange.

  Nico tugged at him. “No, man.” He spun on his heels, dust kicking up against Jonas’ bare legs, much to his annoyance. “There.” He pointed. “Hot dogs, here in Sohalo market! I can barely believe it.” Finally, he let go of Jonas’ arm and headed back into the market, his nose in the air pointed toward the apparent scent like that of a hound hunting a fox. “Come on,” he called waving Jonas on. “I’ll get you one.” Jonas watched him with narrowed eyes. What was going on with this boy? All Jonas could smell was the usual crud-thick air, with the occasional hint of chicken fried in weeks-old oil.

  “Come on, Jonas!” Nico reached a junction between market stalls and stopped, sniffing the air. “This way!” He didn’t wait for Jonas to catch up. He was off like a jackal chasing a rat, powering off toward the imaginary hot dogs, weaving his way through the throng.

  For a second he thought it might not be Nico, but he dismissed that idea as quickly as it had surfaced. It was Nico alright. He had all the right mannerisms, and the same easy smile as before, only now he was a little more excitable. He even had the birthmark on his forehead, above his brow, and the Indian heritage was unmistakable, not to mention he knew Jonas.

  Jonas began to run. The market was a huge place. If he lost Nico, he might never learn what had become of him. Gripping his backpack, now bulging with the things he’d bought closely to his chest, he turned right and headed through the crowd, dodging left and right, almost slipping on the rotten food scattered on the ground. Rats, many of them almost as tame as domestic pets, and in a few cases just as big, if not bigger, scurried about, running between the legs of market goers as they scavenged for food. Looking at some of them, he couldn’t believe that he and the other kids actually ate the evil-looking creatures. The bigger ones had been known to kill babies from time to time. But now, he was moving from rats to hot dogs? It was impossible to comprehend. He needed to see them with his own eyes, and taste them with his own tongue before he’d ever believe such a thing.

  “Oh man, you gotta try these!” Jonas skidded to a halt, almost colliding face first with the hot dog hovering in front of him. He eyed the ketchup dripping from it as if it were blood pouring from a severed limb. It looked like the fabled hot dogs he had heard of, being so
ld on the streets of the Big Apple, in America, and it smelled incredible, but what was really in it?

  “Go on, it won’t bite!” At least not anymore, Jonas thought as he examined it carefully. Nico’s smiling face appeared before him. “Ever seen one of these?”

  He had only ever seen pictures, but it certainly looked like the real thing. His stomach certainly thought so. It felt like there was a gun battle raging on inside it. He glanced at the stand where the vendor kept his wares and scanned it. Smoke rose from a hot plate filled with sausages, each one smooth and rounded, and sizzling as it cooked, the juices spilling out from tiny ruptures in the tender meat. He licked his lips and turned to Nico.

  “No,” he answered, his voice barely more than a whisper. Then he shook the shock away and took the proffered treat. “Since when did Sohalo have a hot dog stall?” The bread was soft in his hand, and the sausage itself looked edible, and not like it contained enough gristle to break a tooth on. The scent of the hotdog was alien, but pleasant, sweet, and salty at the same time. The combination of the scents rising from the hot dog, the feel of the warm, soft bread in his hand, and the sight of the sausage glistening in oil and fried onion was overcoming him, overriding his natural tendency to question everything.

  “Just try it,” Nico urged with a nod. The corners of his mouth gleamed with oil and ketchup. “Trust me. It’s like nothing you’ve ever eaten.” It sounded like Nico was used to eating them.

  Jonas swallowed his impatience and decided instead that it might be far better to swallow a piece of the hot dog warming his palm. A million questions jostled for prominence in his mind but for now, the hot dog was the most important thing in the world. He bit into it. First, a warm spray coated the inside of his mouth, then the bread yielded, and he felt a fine dusting of flour, followed by meat and onions, a tender caress on his tongue. He saw Nico watching him, eyes gleaming with amusement, as he pushed the last of his own hot dog into his mouth with a finger.

  “Two more, please,” Nico said to the vendor in a voice full of cheer, not a trace of shame, or worry. If he was worried about spending his precious money, he certainly had a funny way of showing it. “And don’t hold back on the onions!” Seeing that, Jonas pushed the rest of the hotdog into his mouth, savoring every bite and every sensation as he chewed. The hot dog was the best thing he’d ever eaten, better than roasted vegetables, better than grilled chicken, better even than the burgers he sometimes ate when he had money to spare.

  “So?” Nico said turning back to him. “What do you think? Best damn food on the planet, right?”

  Jonas didn’t want to say yes. He didn’t want to show Nico that he was so easily led, so easily convinced, but it was true. He’d never felt so satisfied in all his life. He nodded then, and gulped, seeing the vendor preparing two more hot dogs from the corner of his eye.

  “Certainly the best in Sohalo, anyway,” said Jonas choosing his words carefully, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. But still, underneath the initial euphoria the hot dogs had caused to surface in him, questions clamored to be answered. He wasn’t one to waste time or tiptoe around the truth, so he spoke up before the vendor could fill his mouth with another hotdog. “How is this possible?” He nodded to the hotdog stand.

  For the first time since they met in the market, Nico hesitated. “Look, Jonas…I don’t have to tell you that things are changing around here.” He looked off toward the distant CES tower, visible even from the market. Jonas followed his gaze, his eyes narrowing as he tried to work out what Nico was getting at. “I know how you feel about The Society—”

  “They can’t be trusted,” Jonas interjected, with a shake of his head. “They’re changing people. Taking them and filling their heads with…with…I don’t know but it can’t be good.”

  “And that’s why it’s probably not a good idea that you hear this from me.” The hot dogs were forgotten all at once as if they’d never existed. Nico looked troubled. He was holding something back, something about The Society. Is that where he had been? Had they gotten to him too?

  “Hear what?” Jonas demanded, but Jonas was already beginning to understand. The change in Nico, it wasn’t due to a sudden influx of money, or because his family had suddenly gotten lucky, it was because he had been recruited into the EDAI program, it was all starting to make sense now.

  “You’ve been using the EDAI program, haven’t you?”

  “It’s not what you think it is, Jonas. They’re helping us,” Nico spoke quickly, his face serious. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve learnt, the things we can all learn. This is our way out of all this crap.” He pointed to the hotdog stand. “This wouldn’t be possible were it not for them.”

  Jonas seethed inside. How could he? Even two months ago, when The Society had only just planted roots in Sohalo, people had started to go missing. Many of the workers they recruited hadn’t been seen again, and even more of those who had joined the program had slowly begun to vanish as if they had never existed. But still, Nico had been seduced by them.

  “How…”Jonas began, “how did they get to you?”

  Nico began to shake his head. “No, it’s not like that, Jonas.” With his open hands, he gestured to his clothes, imploring Jonas to look. “Look at my clothes, my shoes…” When Jonas simply glared at him, Nico sagged and was almost knocked flying by a stray shoulder from the crowd of people surging around them. Lost in their own struggle, it was easy to forget where they were. Jonas would have helped him stay on his feet once, but not so anymore, not now that he knew Nico had abandoned Sohalo, so he let him stumble instead. As Nico found his footing again, Jonas took a moment to look at what he was wearing. A white polo neck, dark blue shorts, and a pair of strange-looking sandals that appeared molded to his feet as if someone had set his feet in clay. He’d rarely ever seen clothes that still had that new look to them, that freshness of color, that crisp, firm quality. In fact, the only times he could remember had been when he’d seen The Society workers walking by. Some of them had worn caps, and he remembered wanting one too. Nico looked like a kid from somewhere like Cape Town, only there was one distinct difference—The Society logo marked each piece of clothing, three rings encircling a sphere—what the hell did it mean? —it was even on each of his gray sandals. The symbols stared back at him with three eyes, unblinking, challenging him, daring him to do something.

  “So they gave you new clothes…but what else did they give you, Nico?” asked Jonas, his voice flat.

  Nico was ready to tell him everything all of a sudden. “Homes, Jonas,” Nico said his voice rising with the excitement building in him. “They’re building a new housing development, giving us homes, feeding us, providing us with jobs…” he reached out to put his hand on Jonas’ arm but Jonas shot him a warning look.

  “Don’t,” he warned. “What else did they give you?” he said, repeating the question, sure Nico still didn’t understand what he was getting at. “What else did they use to buy your loyalty, to get you to come back here and enlist more drones to their cause?” Jonas wanted so badly to believe that The Quantum Society was their savior. He wanted it for himself, but now, more and more as he grew older, he realized he wanted it for Zeta and the others too. What good was having a home, and everything you ever dreamed of if you had no one to share it with?

  “What did they tell you? What lies did they fill your mind with to get you to hand over your freedom, and your people, and our land?” Jonas flashed Nico a wry smile and gestured to the world around them. He had been bought just like the others, but why? What was the Society really after?

  “It’s not easy, and it’s far from beautiful here, but haven’t you learned yet? You can’t trust anyone, especially a corporation with unlimited resources and money that wants to help you for free. What have we always said? Nothing in Sohalo is free. Have you forgotten that?” Maybe he hadn’t forgotten. How could you forget a code you never lived by
in the first place? It seemed that only Jonas and perhaps the criminal overlords like Goat lived by that code. Even after all the turmoil, the struggle, people still believed that one day they would be saved. That day might still come, but it wasn’t today.

  “They’re here to help.” That word again, “help”, but who, and why? “It’s not just South Africa they’re helping,” Nico explained. “They’re helping millions all over the world, in South America, Africa, and parts of Asia. Aren’t you sick of living like this? Aren’t you even willing to just listen, and see it for yourself, and then make a decision?”

  Jonas didn’t say anything. Instead, his mind began to feed him all kinds of scenarios, none of them good. The Society was moving in, sweeping through, sweeping up people as it went, quietly and efficiently. Who knows what they were doing to them, but in his mind, there was no way it could ever be something good. What would they gain by helping people? These monster corporations didn’t work like that. They only helped the natives if there was something in it for them. That something could be any number of sinister things. Were they about to enslave them? Were they in the process of creating a workforce that would scour the land clean of resources in exchange for education and hotdogs? Would Sohalo become just another mining field like all those strung out across the land around them? Whatever their motives were, Nico had fallen for their lies. Jonas didn’t know Nico well enough to feel betrayed by him, or even angry, but it certainly was cause for concern. If they got to Nico, they could get to Zeta, and the other kids. This was an invasion. He felt a sudden and powerful urge to do something. But what could he do? He was one boy against a multi-billion-dollar empire that used robots, and artificial intelligence. He could always talk to Zeta and have her speak to the other kids. Some of them couldn’t speak Zulu or Afrikaans, and English instruction was hard to come by, so Zeta had taken it upon herself to serve as their voice, even going out of her way to learn some of the less common languages. She was essentially their mother. They would listen to her. But he doubted Zeta would entertain the ideas now scrolling through his head like images on a TV screen. Sabotage, vandalism, the spread of lies, those were the only weapons Jonas could think of to stem the tide.