Author: Alexander Fawn

The special training took place at a secret military location.

Soldiers were being trained in the finer techniques of controlling drones fitted with high resolution cameras. A number of selected army personnel were undergoing an intensive drone tactics course, with several machines being put through their paces across an extensive airfield at any one time. These particular flying machines were designed and built for the sole purpose of infiltrating enemy lines, to spy and return images to a drone handler. The day was like any other at first, with a nonstop buzzing around the installation. Things changed when reports were coming in about a drone going rogue. The handler of this malfunctioning machine and his offsider were called to the Group Captain’s office to report. They stood at his desk and saluted.

The captain said, “At ease soldiers. Just tell me what’s going on.”

The two trainees looked at one another, apparently not sure how to begin.

The captain spoke again, in a softer tone. “At ease, gentlemen. I’m sure the problems being encountered are not of your doing. Just a simple verbal report is all I’m asking for. I understand that you’ve lost contact with your assigned drone.”

“Not lost contact, sir, lost control, sir,” blurted the handler.

“I see. You’re saying that it’s not responding. Is that right?”

“Correct, sir.”

“What’s it been doing, if you are not controlling it?”

The two soldiers looked at one another again, with the handler nodding at his offsider to go ahead.

The offsider, the more outspoken of the two, said, “Following, sir.”

The captain frowned. “Following? Following what?”

“Another drone, sir.”

The captain frowned again. Shaking his head, he got up and crossed to a large board that contained coloured photos of the dozen or so drones that were part of the training programme. He pointed to it. “Which one is yours?”

The handler said, “Top right corner, sir. The dark brown TD09, sir.”

“OK, and this other drone? The one you say it’s following?”

“TD03, sir. The brightly coloured one near the middle, sir.”

The captain squinted at the TD03. “It is colourful, isn’t it?” he mumbled. “Why is that, do you suppose?”

More relaxed now, the handler said. “Dunno, sir. We wondered about that. It’s the very latest model, sir.”

The captain turned to face the two men and asked point blank. “What do you believe is going on? You can speak quite frankly; off the record, if you like.”

Both men visibly relaxed. The offsider said. “If you want my opinion, sir. Off the record, sir. I believe it’s flirting, sir.”

“What?”

“Flirting, sir. We’ve been watching it for a couple of hours and all it’s done is follow the other drone around, sir.”

The captain looked bewildered. “Come now, gentlemen, these machines don’t have genders! There has to be some technical explanation.”

“We can only tell you what we saw, sir.”

“Yes, yes, I appreciate that. Where is it now?”

“On the ground, sir.”

“You got it back then?”

“Sort of, sir.”

“Sort of?”

The handler let out a sigh. “Can I explain, sir?”

“Please do.”

“Well, it’s like we said, sir. Our drone kept following this other one for some time, so we asked the other handler, the guy controlling the pretty one, to have it do all sorts of crazy manoeuvres to see whether ours would follow it, and it did. It even looped the loop with it. It was at this point that we asked him to bring his drone down. In order to get ours down too, you see?”

“I do. Did it work?”

“Yes, they came down together… sir.”

“That’s it, then. We can have the thing thoroughly checked over. I’m sure we’ll find it’s some perfectly logical technical glitch.”

“Sorry, sir. Not that easy, sir.”

The captain looked taken aback.

“No. sir. Sorry, sir,” the handler went on, “they came down together and that’s where they are now, out on the field, right next to each other. What I mean, sir, is they are… touching!”

The captain shuddered, “Yes, well… we’ll have to bring them in.”

“Won’t do a lot of good I’m afraid, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Why not?”

“The handler’s offsider, sir, he’s, well, he’s in hospital, sir. He tried to pick it up and received a shock, sir. He has severe burns to his fingers, sir.”

The captain shook his head in exasperation. “OK, but we’ll still have to bring them in for analysis, somehow.”

“Not very likely, sir. Begging your pardon, sir. I’m afraid the handler lost it!”

“Lost it? What do you mean?”

“He went troppo, sir. He began shouting something about how he wasn’t going to stand for that kind of behaviour, sir.” At this point the handler looked at his offsider seeking some kind of tacit agreement. The other nodded. “Then,” he went on, “he went over to the workshop, got a pair of insulated gloves and a large crowbar. He ran out onto the field and bashed them both several times, sir.”

The captain’s expression was a painful grimace. “Are they badly damaged?” he asked.

“Smithereens, sir.”

At this, the captain returned to his desk and sat quietly for a minute or two before looking up. “I want a full report on all of this, on my desk first thing tomorrow morning. You’re dismissed.”

The two soldiers saluted and wandered out, quietly.

The captain felt a wave of anxiety come over him. He opened his desk drawer and reached in for a tablet.

They just stood there looking out at the rain falling heavily.

It was the sudden downpour that drew their attention. Neither of them spoke, they rarely did anymore. It was just an awkward silence, like so many of them that they now shared. Physical avoidance became the norm. Each of them treasuring the times when their personal space was entirely theirs. A general lack of eye contact had long since been part of their daily lives. Of course, there were times when words were necessary. When it happened, it was painful and laborious for both of them. Each was weighed down by the other’s presence. For each of them an obligatory cohabitation had long been in place, as some kind of tacit agreement that neither could remember having agreed to.

The rain began to ease and their brief moments of togetherness came to an end,

Independently, they had each asked themselves what they could have been thinking when they had decided to get married.

Neither had the answer.

He was stretched out on a sun lounge, soaking up the heat.

Europe was always nice this time of year. This was his regular working holiday. He would spend a few weeks visiting the clubs, bars and gaming houses, for just one or two days at a time. Then he would move on. He knew all the haunts; those places where his prey congregated.

From his comfy recliner on the hotel balcony, he watched the dock workers sweating furiously. They came from all over, but they all had one thing in common; they, like so many of those who frequented the venues he would visit this year, liked to gamble. It never failed. They all liked to work hard and gamble harder. Bless their hearts!

He opened his small velvet bag and checked his tiny cups. They never seemed to tire of the shell game. He wiggled his fingers. He had always been quick with his hands. He smiled as he returned his working tools to his pocket. He squinted at the lowering sun and turned over.

He could lie here for another hour before the bars open.

The Uni student’s car had refused to start that morning.

He had almost made it to the bus stop when the car pulled up beside him. When the side window went down he recognised the driver. It was the Head of Animal Science at the university. This was very nice of him, he thought, realising that he must have recognised him from the Engineering building in the adjacent block. He climbed in, thanking the driver. The elderly professor only smiled. The car was very comfortable, with soft seats and a good heater. Nothing was said until they were crossing the common. The car lurched with a double thump. This stretch of road was notorious for running over rabbits. The student turned and checked out the road kill through the back window while the other slowly shook his head.

The student broke the silence. “Stupid animals,” he said, under his breath. He looked out at the meadows where he knew there were rabbit warrens. “Every year, this happens,” he went on. He looked across at the old man, feeling that he could say his piece, “If you were in one of the fields and you came across one of these animals, you couldn’t get close to it before it takes off like a rocket. Yet, when it comes to roads… well, that’s another matter. They seem to deliberately run out in front of a vehicle and, well, chance their luck I suppose. Of course they don’t always make it.”

He looked back at the professor, who was smiling.

“I’ve a bit of a theory about that,” the younger man said, emboldened by the other’s silence. “I think the male rabbits do it deliberately, showing off in front of the females. Demonstrating how brave and clever they are to come so close to death. By impressing the females like this improves their chances of being chosen for mating.”

The student fell silent for a couple of minutes, then began to shake his head.

“No. That’s not right,” he whispered. “No, that can’t be right. If that was the case and natural selection kicked in, well, future breeding would produce a predominately brave and clever rabbit that by virtue of its nature, would never get run over!” He glanced at the man who had a degree in animal science and had probably written several papers on wildlife conservation, and said, “That’s right, isn’t it?”

At this point the professor pulled into his allotted parking space at the university and switched the engine off.

The student repeated, “That’s right, wouldn’t you say?”

The professor wagged his finger, “Yes, but…”

The man shuddered as he waited for his late night taxi.

It was cold and dark with the streets empty. He had been called out unexpectedly. It had ruined his plans for the evening, but that was the nature of his work, but he wouldn’t change it for anything. He hadn’t been there long when a young lad appeared at the end of the street. As he approached, he seemed to be waving his arms around with a strange rhythm. It turned out to be a flick-knife. He was tossing it back and forth, with the shiny blade extended, like a juggler. The boy sneered as he approached, still flipping it from hand to hand. As he drew level, he made a few intimidating swipes with the weapon, then leaning forward, he grinned and said “Boo!”

The man stood perfectly still and let him pass. He watched him walk away, cackling to himself. It was only moments later that he heard the commotion. He squinted in the dim light and saw that the boy had obviously tripped, and was now lying face down on the pavement and howling. When the man got to him he could make out a dark stain forming near the boy’s leg. The boy tried to move, but only screamed with pain with each attempt.

The man knelt down next to him, asking, “Are you all right?”

“Of course I’m not all right,” came the gruff reply, through gritted teeth.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean, what happened? I fell over didn’t I? Anybody could see that!”

Ignoring the remarks, the man tried to estimate where the knife had gone in. It seemed to be somewhere around his upper leg. “There seems to be high blood loss there,” he murmured, standing up.

“You a doctor?”

“Yes, but…”

“Well, do something?” He tried to move, but the pain only made him scream again.

The man took out his phone and began dialling.

“Do something!” the boy repeated. “You don’t have time to play with your phone. Do something!”

Calmly, the man said, “I’m not playing with my phone, I’m calling for an ambulance.”

“Help me. There must be something you can do while we wait.”

The man knelt down again. “Yes, all right.”

The boy tried to look up. “Jees! It’s about time.”

“OK,” he began, “Tell me… what do you remember of your childhood?”

They work methodically, using the grid, clearing the land.

They have the chemicals and the machinery that enables them to scour the landscape, to make it pristine again, to purify. To remove all traces of those that were there before. The grid, clearly marked out on the ground beneath by beams from the hovering craft. The laser-like markings guide their progress. The inhabitants long gone. All physical traces of the global population broken down and turned to dust. The land masses are being prepared. New life forms wait for their time. Before long, great ships will bring them. The repopulation process is well underway. A better world will be brought about. The previous tenants ignored all the warning signs.

Progress is in the making…

He didn’t much like the noise or the incessant crowds.

He sometimes thought about the idyllic life of a butterfly. Free to flit around in the open spaces that nature provides.

Or a fish, he thinks about a fish and the vast distances they can travel. Being part of a school that swim together ln unison, sometimes over vast distances. He thinks about the life of a bird. Up there, soaring. The ability to wing your way skyward and to keep going until there is simply not enough oxygen. To swoop and dive; to have a prevailing wind let you glide. For a while he crouched, just thinking about gliding.

Of course, all of this was a pipedream. His fate was sealed. He was lumbered with being a beetle, living under a waste bin in the concourse of a busy city railway station.

The man had been summoned urgently to a meeting with his handler.

It was not the way things were usually done. He would normally receive a polite phone call asking him to provide a convenient time to come in. Even when it was the case that someone needed to be neutralised as soon as possible, there would be a calm and courteous call. It was normally arranged and carried out carefully and in a professional manner, to minimise mistakes.

The handler was waiting for him in the small sound-proof room at the back of the florist shop.

The handler looked put out.

“It must be important. It’s the first time I’ve had to break off from a round of gulf to be here.”

He unlocked a drawer in the metal desk and took out a large brown envelope.

He slid it across.

“I don’t know anything about this one, beyond it being top priority, so I hope you don’t have questions.”

The Neutraliser stared down at a coloured photograph of the man sitting opposite.

He reached into his jacket.

As he screwed the silencer on, he said, “This will be a first for me too.”

He was really tired of so many everyday problems.

There seemed to be so many of them. When he got back from the shops he slumped in his armchair. Within moments his faithful old tabby cat jumped up onto his lap and settled down.

He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “The bus was late, again,” he started, “and we got stuck in traffic three times. The pot holes in the main street are getting worse, you’d think that our taxes with fix them up, but no. D’you know, going through town, I counted six kids cycling on pavements; that’s so dangerous, but you can’t tell them. The people on the bus were so loud that other people were shouting into their mobile phones.”

He scratched his head and snorted. “Shopping was a nightmare. They keep moving stuff around the isles. I don’t know why they do that, after all they have to pay someone to do it. It doesn’t make sense. Of course, the price of everything’s gone up, again. The queue for the self-service checkout was so long I had to go through the regular check out. The checkout girl was so rude, and to make it worse she was chewing gum all the time.”

He shook his head slowly, and said, “All of that, and I have to come home to those noisy neighbours next door with heir screaming kids and their loud music!”

The cat uncurled itself and sat up. It looked directly into its owner’s eyes and let out a soft sigh. Lifting its chin, it said, “You know, I am always here if you need to talk.”

It really is all about safety.

He knew that, and he was good at his job within the HSB, that’s the Health and Safety Bureau. This was the one thing that kept the world safe; that stopped it slipping back into the mess it had been in so long ago. It was a world that was better now, much better than before, but more importantly, it was safe. Most people would have no idea of what the world used to be like. It is so far back now, and such great strides have been made over the centuries. So much has changed. The new world order was a long time coming, but come it did.

So many hazards and life-threatening scenarios now no longer exist. The world-wide production and processing of food now under control of one central authority. The HSB, of course.

No more drivers, only passengers. Simple, don’t you think? And so obvious. All types of conveyances sensor-controlled to eradicate any possibility of collisions. Moving beyond the use of electricity was a game-changer. All those all too common accidents in the home, gone. Kids sticking spoon handles into sockets, mums in baths reaching for hair-driers, and dads fixing TVs. All gone. No more fossil fuels either. Everything so much better. Through the decades, the need for hospitals has been greatly reduced. Most citizens never visit one in their lifetime. Even those who make it past two-hundred.

The fire-proofing of clothes, materials, houses and office blocks has reduced the need for a fire service to such a small section within the HSB, that most people never see them. All major populated areas are kept safe within climate-regulated domes. For those travelling between, science now monitors the weather with accurate predictions and a global weather warning system. As for wars and fighting over land, power, money and other stuff. It’s all gone now. Just no need for them. It’s all so far back that it’s hard to imagine what was being fought over.

All aspects of life are now safety-compliant. Everything is under control. Everything, accept people that is. What are you going to do? This is the only category of safety risks that can’t be controlled, well, not entirely. Lord knows it’s been tried. Scientists have been working on it, but it just can’t be done; not with a one hundred percent rate of success. The only remaining threat is complacency. That’s where the man from the HSB comes in. Where there is trouble, he nips it in the bud. There can be no exceptions. Left to grow, left to fester, it’s a contamination that will creep back to a time well past. Well behind them. Well gone.

His ear bud chimes and he checks the address on his wrist screen. He arrives to find two men shouting at each other. They stop and stare at him with helpless expressions, they know exactly what’s to come.

He draws the device and fires twice…

Safety is everything.