Lurranus Stories: Empirius (Part 4)

2090:

“Breaking news: Keskal is under yet more fire for its actions protecting the flats. The construction of the flats was famously a complete mess, with various buildings haphazardly brought together, and various projects stalling entirely. Keskal undertook a key role in protecting the construction sites and, after Empirius ignored public requests to take over, have continued doing the job. The group's new PR spokesperson, Euan Kevil, has stated change is imminent. But Kevil and Keskal have a checkered past and this presenter, for one, is dubious about any changes he’s promising, especially with various locals complaining about both the living conditions and the companies harsh security measures. In other news, Empirius’ prodigal son Craig Donnely is receiving mass attention for his new inventions. Could Empirius’ controversial ways be finally in the past? Stay tuned for our thoughts... after a short ad break.”

“Hey!” Someone called out. Craig braced himself for some kind of criticism. But none came.
“You’re Craig Donnely?” The voice asked. Turning around, Craig saw it belonged to a young lad, about twenty years of age, with unruly brown hair that reminded Craig of his own hair. He seemed to be walking towards one of the giant flats in the distance.
Craig smiled, and gave a light nod.
“Thank you.” He said. Craig didn’t say anything back, and the lad didn’t say anything more. But for the rest of that week, Craig just kept smiling. He still felt bad about Keskal, and about Ryan, but for that one glorious week, all was well in the world. It wasn’t the admiration - no, Craig had tried to stop thinking about that. That was a valid point on Ryan’s part. No, it was that someone who seemingly lived in the flats was benefitting from Craig’s work. It wasn’t the only incident in recent days. And little things like this helped convince Craig that he was helping, that his work would make a difference and soon what had happened with Keskal wouldn’t matter. It gave him renewed clarity of mind as he set out to complete the work on his next project, the Slow-Down.

2093:

“Craig... you’re a nice guy. Genuine too, which is rare, and that really comes across. But the main reason we’re here is your habit of um-ing and er-ing every other second. I mean, if you were a younger man, the social uneasiness and tripping over your words would be cute, but you're getting on now. You’re in your mid forties - not that you’re looking bad, course, but it’s clear you're not in your twenties. And that boyish quality is good in small doses, as is your need to learn and help, but it needs balancing it with a maturity you’ve developed over the years. So, what we want from you are long... thoughtful... pauses. It’s finding the balance, between an idealistic and likeable man, and someone people can actually trust to see their promises through.”
“Yeah, sure, no, I get it.”
Beth gave a slow smile. “That’s something right there. Just a simple ok, I get it. Take your time, breathe. Do you understand.”
Craig ran this hand along his head, where his once unruly hair lay. Now, at the age of forty-four, the powers that be had determined it be replaced by a more modest style. Craig was still getting used to it. “Yeah, I think.”
“Confidence is key.” Beth continued, before taking on an example of a mocking voice. “What, so the Slow-Down might work, you think?” She paused, and continued in her usual even tone. “So tell me, definitively, without a shadow of a doubt... will it work?”
“Yes. It will.”
“And what actually is the Slow-Down?”
“Basically, it’s something that slows down your body clock. So...”
“That’s good, that’s good...”
“Evidently not, if you’re stopping me.”
Beth shrugged. “It’s good, not perfect, that’s why I’m stopping you. We’re just working on the polishes. Dispense with the basically. Just try - in a smooth, clear voice - “The Slow-Down” - not it, use its actual name - “The Slow-Down is a revolutionary new...” How would you describe it?”
Craig spoke slowly, convinced his response wasn’t what Beth wanted to hear, but unaware what else to say. “It's just a drug, basically.” He quickly started up again, remembering Beth’s feedback. “It’s just a drug.”
Beth smiled at Craig’s self-correction but grimaced at his word choice. “Well, let's say a chemical compound.” Craig stared at her in confusion. “Drug has some... negative connotations.”
Craig took another few moments, before suddenly a switch went off in his head. “Ah! Yeah, no, that makes sense.”
“Just “Yeah”, remember?”
Craig opened his mouth to reply, but forced himself to pause. “Ok. I understand.”
Beth smiled. “Ok, from the top...”

The colourful title credits, displaying scenes of a utopia that was no longer even a faint dream, stopped playing. The logo, in a contrasting white, played for a second. The logo cut away to a panning shot, as a distant camera sailed over the heads of the applauding crowd and came to a stop before legendary host Gabriel Winters and Craig Donnely. Craig had travelled up to Edinburgh the previous night for the show and now sat nervously before him with this fresh cut and a loose black shirt.
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this evening's show with myself, Gabriel Winters. We got a great line up tonight, but to start us off, we have a Mr Craig Donnely of Empirius. So, tell me, Mr Donnely -“
“Craig, please.”
“- Craig... Explain to me...” The presenter spoke slowly, as if fearful even one word be misunderstood, and said his question as though it were a moral dilemma of life threatening importance. “What is... the Slow-Down?”
“It’s a chemical compound design to slow the human body clock down, so as to increase one’s life expectancy.”
There was a slight pause. “Ah, hence the name.”
Craig didn’t know what to say next. “Well, that’s... why we choose it.” There were some light chuckles for the audience. A flash of what looked mild annoyance passed across Gabriel’s face, but disappeared as soon as the camera cut back to him.
“I started work on it after the Cube took off, thinking to myself “What could we do with next?”, and so I came up with this idea, and I’ve spent the last three years...”
“Empirius prick!” A voice bellowed from the back of the crowd. Everything went silent. Craig looked at Gabriel, confused as to whether he should address the issue, or ignore it and continue. Gabriel sighed.
The one who yelled stood up, followed by three others in the same row.
“You jumped up, worthless piece of shit!” One of them yelled. Several robots began making their way down the steps. Luckily for the machine, the offenders were all by the aisle.
“Greetings sir and-or madam.” The robot begins in a calm voice. “Please...”
The ringleader, a tall ginger man, spat in the machine's face. The machine went silent and responded by placing its left over his mouth, silencing him, and using its right hand to pick him up by the shoulder. A human guard showed up and gestured the others follow him out, lest there be more trouble. They did, but hurled abuse on their way out. Even twenty seconds after they had left, low echoes of their voices could still be heard. After thirty seconds, there was silence again.
The audience all released one unified exhale. Craig looked expectantly at Gabriel, who seemed to be listening to a voice in this eye. He nodded, then perked up and faced the crowd.
“Sorry about them, amigos! Back to it.”
He turned to Craig. “Ok, the editors are gonna cut all that out. We’re gonna go from just after you explain the Slow-Down to me, but lose the condescending attitude.” Craig noticed a slight bitterness in the last bit. “Don’t say... whatever you said. Just wait for a few seconds, then let me ask you where the idea came from, and we’ll be back at it. Ok?” Craig nodded, and the interview resumed, with no hint anything was even amiss.

Sitting in a spacious Edinburgh inn together, Craig and Richard had watched the show together, joined by Tom for security reasons. Craig’s segment had aired with no clear hint at where the cut was, no detectable audio jumps or noticeable continuity errors to the untrained eyes. Craig wondered how often those kinds of outbursts happened. For all he knew, it was a regular feature of Gabriel’s show that very few knew about. What about the crowd, surely they let the beans spill. Then Craig wondered if they were actually normal people, or maybe just employees. Maybe they were holograms, although Craig had to admit maybe that was one step too far.
“Incoming call: Ryan MacAllistar.”
Craig stopped. Richard looked up from across the table, and immediately nodded knowingly, moving away to give Craig the space to answer the call. Tom followed suit. Craig hesitated for a second, in shock, but brought himself around to answering.
“Answer call... Hello?”
“Heya slick... I saw the special, and I heard you were in Edinburgh to film it. Are you free tomorrow?”
Craig paused. He knew he was, but suddenly felt very strange. He didn’t know how to feel. The two hadn’t spoken in years. But Ryan was a great friend, and he missed him. “Yeah. Where did you have in mind?”

The Wholesome Spring Bar, the venue Craig and Ryan had sheltered in during the 2068 Edinburgh riots was much as Craig remembered it. The windows had been restored, as one might expect when twenty years had passed, and the small establishment had been overwhelmed by an additional five stories of granite floors that had been dropped on top of it, as well as the various high rises in the distance. Craig considered going in, but instead waited outside for Ryan, leaning against the wall and enjoying the cool Scottish breeze. Eventually, Ryan appeared around the corner. He was wearing his favourite leather jacket, which was showing hints of wear, and his hair had gone just a touch greyer.
Ryan stopped just short of Craig. Neither said anytime, most hoping the other spoke first. Eventually Craig managed to put together some words.
“So... the bar’s still looking pretty shit...”
“Yeah...”
The two sighed.
“How’s Jack?” Craig inquired.
“He’s with someone. Apparently it’s serious.”
Craig smiled. “That’s good. What about you?”
Ryan shrugged. “I’ve got all the shitty local bars for company.”
“You know, I’ve started drinking a bit myself.”
Ryan raised his eyebrow. “After years of trying in vain... result.”
Craig smiled momentarily, but then the awkward silence resumed. It was clear the two would have to address the emotional baggage at some point.
“Look...” Craig began. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
“Me too.” Ryan replied. “I’m sorry I was a petty ass. I still don’t like Empirius, but you’ve got a point.” He moved in for a hug. “Plus, it’s too quiet without your annoying ass.” Craig reciprocated. Craig wasn’t one for such displays of affection, but in that moment he felt at peace. As if, for a moment, some form of order had been restored to the world.
Breaking it off, the two looked back at the bar.
“I forgot how classy this venue was.” Ryan quipped.
“Hopefully that cranky old bartender who served us years ago is gone.”
Ryan shook his head. “I doubt it. It’s scientifically proven bartenders have longer lives.”
Craig let loose a contained laugh. “Really?”
“Yeah, alcoholics too. A certain amount of alcohol gives you liver disease, but when you pass that threshold, you actually get low level superpowers... like, you can open a bottle slightly faster than the average man.” The two giggled as the story grew more preposterous.
“After you,” Ryan began, pointing to the door, “Mr Donnely.”
“Please, Ryan... that’s Mr Craig Donnely to you.” Craig joked. “Bloody disgraceful. Who hired you? I’d like a word with them.”
“Damn... you’re so important, people say Mr and your first name.”
“Yeah, you know you’ve made it when that’s the case.”
Craig paused for a moment, worried the sentiments Ryan expressed in their old argument would come to fruition again. But Ryan seemed happy Craig had become more humble, and regarded those times with a shrug and a laugh.
The two pushed on the grand wooden at the entrance. It held out against them for a moment, before suddenly giving way and swinging open.
The tables were all in place, and a smooth jazz beat played in the background, but the bar seemed noticeably empty. Perhaps it was a little early, but Craig had expected to see at least a few people. At the front of the bar were two construction workers enjoying a fish supper in the presence of their company issue robot supervisor. There was also a woman on the fruity, pleading for some kind of return on her investment, and a man in the far corner with a top hat and a leather jacket atop his orange jumper. This gentleman appeared to be shuffling a deck of cards while clicking his shoes up and down, releasing a continual metallic clang as he did so. Craig swore he seemed vaguely familiar. Had he been at the bar in ‘68 too?
However, more familiar was the bartender. Despite joking around with one another, it was the same man who had served them so aggressively twenty five years ago. He remained bold, but now inevitably had some more wrinkles and a soft white beard. The two sat before him, and as they did so, his mouth dropped.
“Fuck me...” He exclaimed, holding up his finger and looking around excitedly before he realised no one was around. “It’s... your Craig Donnely.”
“I am.” He said, before gesturing to his side. “This is my very good friend...”
“You’re Craig...” He continued, before apologetically raising his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Not at all. This is my friend Ryan, and it’s a pleasure to meet you...”
“Keith. Please, the pleasure is all mine.” He paused. It was clear he wanted to say something, but was holding himself back. Eventually he gave in. “You know, I think you actually came here once.”
“I did.” He smiled. “2068, during the Edinburgh massacre. I remember this place got shot up, but we got out of there. What happened?”
He shrugged. “Just death, really. There was a family, and the two friends, if you remember - they all died. I just lay down and waited. Eventually this place caught on fire, but by that time there were hosing a bunch of buildings down, so the damage wasn’t too significant. The city's tourism industry, well... that never recovered, as you see, we’re not being exactly swamped by customers. Then again, is anywhere?”
“Yeah. Anyway, can I have... what do you want Ryan.”
“Just a Perone.”
“Right. A Guinness, please, and a Sprite for the lady.”
Ryan spun around. “You cheeky bastard.”
Craig smiled in response, before turning back to Keith. “I’m kidding, a Perone for Ryan.”
He nodded and stepped back.
Ryan laughed at a hidden joke. Craig looked over at him, and raised his eyebrows. Ryan realised he would have to respond. “That guy reminds me of you, actually.”
“Yeah?
“Yeah, he used to be an asshole too.”
Craig laughed at their old joke. “Yeah, you’ve... I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.”
Ryan chuckled, before he reached out, and gripped Craig’s arm. “But Craig, I just wanted to say... You’re doing good, man. I’m sorry for what I said. It was petty, it was stupid. You're a great, intelligent, selfless man. Better than I’ll ever be.”
“Well, you reached out to me. Went against your base feelings about Empirius and reached out to me. You realised a fault in your character, and your went against your programming to address it. You’re a good man, Ryan.” He smiled, before going in for a cheeky final remark: “Of course, you can’t quite compare to the great Mr Craig Donnely, try as you might.” The good had a hearty laugh over that, and at about that moment their drinks arrived. Kieth smiled at them, but left them to talk themselves.
“Also,” Ryan continued, “You mentioned a job, working with the new robots or whatever. I mean, I was... quite a while ago, but do you reckon there’s any vacancies? Just cos, I’ve had enough of his city, and, well, I miss you man.”
Craig took a moment to think. “I’m sure I can find you a job in sanitation.” He smirked. “I’ll look into it. I’m sure there’s something.”