Interlude -Conrad-

Being different in Varuna was a dangerous thing.

Conrad Achenleck understood this very well. As a child, his mother had been terrified that her precious son was going to be an individual and had pounded into him the necessity to be just like everyone else no matter what happened. Being so young, Conrad had known no better and done what he was told, even as he suffered under the constant, high expectations his mother had set.

And as an adult, Conrad continued to follow those strict rules and guidelines.

He filed his paperwork on time, paid his taxes without complaint (well, maybe a little), held casual conversations with those individuals he loosely labeled as friends, and quietly kept to himself in his upscale condo in Sector 4B. As a graphic designer, he had a bit more imaginative freedom than the majority of the city but he knew better then to let it stray outside of the Council's standards. His work was mild and appreciated and he was content to keep it that way.

After all, standing out was against the rules.

Conrad had accepted his lot in life, felt comfortable to go along with demands and what was the possibly propaganda of the government. He knew what the Ahimsa were, knew that they did, and trusted them to protect the citizens of Varuna from the bloodthirsty Undesirables that lurked in the slums like the filthy maggots they were. For without the Ahimsa there would be naught but disorder and terrifying things like wars and fighting.

And yet, as he watched the morning news with his cup of coffee like any normal person would, Conrad couldn't help but think that even with the Ahimsa horrible things were happening anyway.

He'd seen a woman arrested on the street by the Ahimsa and dragged away from her crying child, screaming. And he'd pretended it hadn't happened. He'd watched as a group of teenagers--obviously half breed Undesirables by their semi-human appearance--got rounded up and, when one tried to resist, all of them were shot. And he'd pretended he hadn't seen it.

The government tried to do these things quietly, he understood that, but at the same time it sickened him. These creatures looked human. He thought, at least, they could be treated somewhat decently. And then he'd remember the rebels.

Conrad didn't know why, exactly, these Undesirables were fighting against the Council. Their life in the slums might not have been perfect but the government had given them a place to live, away from normal people, so that order could be kept. But the rebels disrupted this order in some of the most violent ways.

Like any normal citizen, Conrad watched the news and kept himself up to date on the latest happenings. He had seen the injuries inflicted upon the Ahimsa agents who tried to stop the resistance, he'd seen the explosives go off on live video feed from the slums, he'd seen the chaos that ensued from those miserable, rebellious, peace-haters.

The most shocking event, by far, had been when he was waiting in the bus station to catch a ride home after wasting a day in the mall, searching for some upgraded art programs that had been sold out for a month. His mind had been wandering to his latest commission, trying to figure out if a warm color scheme or a cool one was better, when the dramatic jingle of the news station interrupted a rather dull sitcom and caused everyone in the station to look up at the nearest holoscreen.

"This is Tiffany King, reporting live from Sector 6B," Said the perfect news reporter into her throat mic as she stared seriously into the camera. Behind her, an Ahimsa road block was set up and beyond that was a ruined street, "A few moments ago, a group of Undesirables broke into the Ration Station Tower just behind me. A few agents were sent in after them but we have not yet heard any information regarding the situation. Citizens are advised to stay indoors as these Undesirables are highly dangerous individuals believed to be part of the resis--."

And explosion cut her off. The camera was tossed violently about, showing the ground, the sky, a blur of buildings, the sky again, the terrified face of the cameraman, and then finally settled back on the Ration Station Tower. A massive tangle of glass and metal was twisted out of the side of the building some three stories up in a gaping hole, debris still falling from it like chunks of flesh from a wound. The reporter seemed to be trying to find something to say but before she could, an Ahimsa agent suddenly came flying out of the hole, tumbled briefly through the air, and slammed into the pavement.

"Oh my God...!" The news reporter whimpered as the camera zoomed in on the Ahimsa agent's body, "Oh hell...! I better get a fucking raise for this! Matt! Matt, point at the building! Look at that! Are you getting this!?"

The camera swung around and showed the building again. What appeared to be streaks of blue light were flying out of the hole and, after a moment or two of this fantastic display, they stopped. Silence for a few seconds. And then another explosion rocked the camera. There was a deep rumbling sound and static crackled across the holoscreens. Conrad's mouth fell open as he watched in stunned silence. The Ration Station Tower creaked and groaned, smoke and fire pouring from it and bits of steel, glass, and cement smashing into the pavement.

"Run!" A male voice--most likely the cameraman--screamed, "It's falling! Holy fuck, the whole thing's coming down! Run, Tiffany! Run!"

The camera turned, facing the street away from the crumbling building, and started moving jerkily to a news van parked a few feet away. But that didn't stop the sound; the screeching of twisting metal, the rumble as stone crumbled to dust, the roar of flames, and the heavy, terrified panting of the cameraman and the reporter. The van door was thrown open and the camera momentarily showed the floor before spinning about again in a dizzying blur to show the collapsing building.

"Drive, Rick!" The news reporter's voice could be heard screaming off camera,"What the hell are you gaping at!? Drive! Get us out of here!"

A squeal of tires on pavement and the camera jerked around before focusing on the falling Ration Station Tower again. It was coming down fast; even as the van pulled further and further away, the onlookers watching the holoscreens could see the whole building crumbling in on itself, the smoke and flames still spilling out of it like a gushing wound.

Conrad tore his gaze away from the screen and glanced around the station; everyone wore similar expressions of shock and all of them were staring fixedly at the holoscreens. The graphic designer swallowed thickly and pressed his back against the cold metal of the bench he sat on. The tension was so thick he could almost feel it like a physical weight, the only noise was coming from the holoscreens and the low humming of the bus engines. Conrad wanted to hold his breath for fear of making a noise and drawing attention to himself.

A loud clatter came from the entrance to his right and Conrad looked around. No one else did and he quickly switched his gaze to the holoscreen again. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure darting through the crowded station. A small, thin figure with a shock of red hair and a mysterious blue sparkle. They dashed through the station, carefully avoiding the groups of people even as they sped across the polished silver-white metal floor, shoes squeaking, heavy breathing echoing through the silent station and almost hidden in the noises from the news broadcast.

Conrad turned his head ever so slightly, just in time to see the figure burst out from between two groups of people whose gaze was still fixated on the news broadcast, still showing live coverage of the crumbling building. Conrad couldn't stop his eyes from widening; he took in the messy, slightly curly, burnt red hair, the gleam of glasses, and a glow of neon blue.

Then, just for an instant, as this person--a boy probably no older than fourteen--ran by him, their eyes met.

Bright blue met dark obsidian and a breathless grin flashed across the boy's face.

And then he was gone and Conrad was left staring at an empty space. He was just beginning to register what he'd seen--who he'd possibly seen--when the station came to life. The news broadcast was abruptly cut off, the boring sitcom had returned, and something at one of the station entrances was drawing people's attention. A couple of Ahimsa agents burst through the crowd at a dead run, their guns out and ready to fire, scattering people who happened to be in their way.

The two of them skidded to a halt in the same spot that Conrad had made eye contact with the redheaded rebel. One of them cursed, looking around for the person they'd been chasing, and found Conrad staring at them.

"You," He pointed his gun at the graphic designer and Conrad flinched, "Where'd he go!?"

"Get your gun out his face, you dumbass!" The other agent snapped and turned to Conrad as well, "The rebel! Where did he go!? He's responsible for the attack on the Ration Station Tower! Where is he!?"

Conrad raised a shaking hand and pointed off to his left, "There. H-he went that way."

The agent's turned and were gone and the bustle of the station slowly returned to normal. Conrad simply sat on the bench, still trying to process exactly what had happened. And when he did, he wished he hadn't. Because he'd just done what he'd been trying to ignore for all his life. He'd sent the Ahimsa agents after another life--even the life of an Undesirable--most likely to be killed for terrorism.

"The one 'o clock bus to Sector 4B's Residential District is now loading at Station 5." Chimed the cool, mechanical voice of a woman over the loud speakers, "The one 'o clock bus to Sector 4B's Residential District is now loading at Station 5. Citizens please board in an orderly fashion."

Conrad got mechanically to his feet and walked towards the bus, his mind elsewhere. He didn't recall flashing his bas pass through the indicator, he didn't remember taking a seat at the back, and he didn't remember much of the bus trip either.

That boy and his rebel friends...had they really blown up the Ration Station Tower--the building that regulated all food supplies to the people of Varuna? Was that boy even a rebel? Had he just condemned an innocent--.

The graphic designer cut off the thought with a shake of his head. Then he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, propping his elbows on his knees as the bus moved smoothly along.

It wasn't his problem.

It wasn't his concern.

If he thought about it too much, he would become involved.

If he became involved, he would be noticed.

If he was noticed, he would be labeled as different.

Being different would be standing out.

Standing out was against the rules.

Individuality was against the rules.

Better to hide quietly and not worry about it.

So Conrad let it go, forgot about it, and went on with his life. He kept following the rules, kept obeying the laws, kept quietly to himself, kept blending in with the crowd.

Because whatever went on outside his perfect bubble of life simply wasn't his problem.