Thirteen, 20 January

Amandine, Reggie and Imara

Jan 20, 2025

She was a hero

Chesa met Zola at the entrance and together they entered the cellar. About thirty people were seated at tables in a conference room, talking among themselves and communicating with groups elsewhere via banks of monitors.

A tall woman with flowing grey hair, Amandine, the meeting’s chair, came over and enveloped Chesa in a warm embrace. With a small gesture of the finger she indicated Zola, ‘is this him?’

Chesa nodded. Amandine smiled and embraced Zola. ‘You are most welcome here, Zola. After all that you have been through, you have a lot to share with us.’ She smiled as Zola acknowledged her words. Without asking him, Amandine turned to the room, ‘listen up everybody. We have a special guest here, brought by Chesa. I’ve asked him to say a few words.’

Zola felt his insides knot with anxiety. He shot a look at Chesa, his eyes asking ‘how do I get out of here?’ She smiled back at him, encouraging him, unaware of his inner turmoil.

‘Can the regions see our guest? Yeah? Ok. Everyone, this is Zola Pandoke.’

A light buzz swept the room and it became quiet and attentive. Zola felt his body tense as he looked at the faces, some interested, some sceptical, some hostile. He stared at the floor, frozen. A long silence. He sunk his hands into his tunic, one of them finding the inert dronikus in the pocket. He gripped it and squeezed.

‘Sorry, I… er…’ He raised his eyes and looked at the faces, some of which had now turned away, in sympathy or embarrassment. He glanced again at Chesa.

And then a release; like a stuck door suddenly giving way, Zola’s words began to flow. ‘I have been away for a long time, alone on an island in a swamp. Being in a room with so many people is scary for me, nevermind standing here having to talk to you. So forgive me.’

People nodded, some clapped and called out words of encouragement.

‘I am Zola of the Pandoke family, the brother of Enrike and Meriti and the deceased Leilu. As some of you may know, I was sent into exile at the time of Leilu’s death.’ Zola stopped. He looked around the room, feeling less nervous. He continued, his voice more relaxed now, less strident.

‘The company built by my grandfather, Eugenio, and my father, Colinson, is primarily a technology company, whose aim from its inception was to produce solutions to the world’s pressing problems. I don’t have to tell you that it has indeed succeeded in producing some wonderful innovative products. I still believe that there are technological solutions to some of the world’s problems...’ He stopped and looked across to the corner of the room where two men had begun talking, not hiding their displeasure at Zola. They quietened as he continued:

‘Pandoke has, unfortunately, also found it tempting and profitable to do the opposite. Some years ago, when Leilu and I were still young…’

‘You sold her out. She was a hero…’ one of the men butted in loudly.

Amandine shouted: ‘Hey Reggie, give it a break.’

‘We cannot forget the past, Amandine! People must take responsibility…’

‘Reggie.’ She stared him down and then turned to Zola indicating he should continue. The man’s intervention only briefly threw him off his stride.

‘When Leilu and I were young Pandoke started to go down the path of developing technological products which can be – and are – misused in ways that add to the suffering and misery in our society. She not only warned of this risk, but led initiatives to focus on what was happening and to bring it all it back into a balance.

‘I believe that the people here – you – represent the majority of humanity who all wish to see the same thing. Who want to see technology used for people, not against them, who want to see long-overdue solutions to the massive problems facing the planet, even at this late stage. I hope to join you and contribute to this cause.

‘My sister was killed in dubious circumstances. I was sent into exile – a prison really – to be watched over by dronikus. I have come back disorientated and not fully sure of what’s what and how I might fit in. But I am guided by the vision of my dead sister. I thank you deeply for accepting me here.’

Zola’s words were greeted with applause and words of acknowledgement. Amandine began to thank Zola, but Reggie shouted again, ‘you can send your brothers a message…’

‘Order!’ Amandine moved aggressively to end the intervention and convened the meeting.

Zola took a deep breath. His body felt hot, flushed with the emotion of being thrust into the limelight. He pulled back to stand next to Chesa. She clasped him by the arm and pulled him close. Despite being annoyed that she had put him on the spot without asking, he was happy to be back next to her. And he was pleased with himself for having coped. He had spoken his truth and shown a commitment to these people.

Discussion centred on the planning and preparations for the National RePO Day, due to be held soon on the Grand Boulevard in the centre of the New Capital.

A voice from a regional participant came through the monitors: ‘Are we equipped to face the increasing power ranged against RePO, particularly the dronikus and the rators?’

A person on the far side of the room spoke with authority and clarity: ‘Our experience has shown that while deploying increasing numbers of rators marginally increases their capabilities, they seem to have chosen to make their dronikus more lethal in combat.’

Zola realised that it was Chun, the ‘heesh’ he had met when arriving for the Lumpyface at Chesa’s ‘hospital.’

‘As you all know, two of our people were assassinated at the Unidad Square rally and a number injured – this by dronikus using explosive darts. It would be foolish to think they will not increasingly use the dronikus – and probably the rators – in lethal strikes against individuals.’

‘What about the Rator Law?’ came an urgent voice from the monitors.

‘It seems that the Rator Law is no longer being observed as it should by the controllers,’ heesh said.

Feelings of anger and hostility swelled in the room and through the monitors.

‘Killing their own people.’

‘Bastards!’

‘Yes, but it does show that they are getting desperate,’ said Reggie. ‘It’s a sign that we are making progress, comrades.’

‘Easy for you to say, Reggie, but should we be going ahead when it’s obvious that they are willing to kill us in the streets?’ said a woman near the front.

‘It’s a struggle to the death, comrade sister,’ Reggie said with bravado.

Amandine intervened again. ‘Thank you, Reggie. Let’s move on please.’

A voice from the monitor said, ‘I have heard that the rators have been lobbying for a change to the Rator Law.’

‘What! They’re rators!’

‘They say that they should be treated as humans.’

‘Yes, one can understand. They are now being built with IQs up into the 80s.’

‘They should have rights.’

‘But not to kill us.’

‘Maybe we have to stop killing them.’

Amandine spoke again, ‘the question of violence is most pertinent. We started as a non-violent movement, y’all remember?’

‘Yes, we remember, but we must also remember who fired the first shot. Not us…’ said Reggie.

‘And also remember how the talks were making headway until then,’ added another voice.

‘Our objectives are unchanged,’ persisted Amandine. ‘To confront, to disrupt, to model the future. Not to burn and destroy. Some people in our ranks seem to have forgotten this.’

‘What can we do if they are attacking us and beating us and now killing us?’

‘The National RePO Day is a day of non-violence. It has been thus since it began. There are those fellow travellers who join our demonstrations with the express aim of causing violence. We’ve got to find a way to distance ourselves from them, to maintain our non-violent principles. Put this out through our members and constituencies across the country. Repeat, re-emphasise, reiterate: “leave your weapons at home!”’

‘It’ll never work.’

‘Even if we demonstrate peacefully, the rators will attack us.’

‘We have to defend ourselves.’

‘We don’t have to resort to violence. We have to resist,’ shouted Amandine above the voices.

From the regions someone asked: ‘Can we not disable the rators like at Unidad, but for longer?’

Chun spoke again: ‘Our big success at the last demonstration was to be able to jam most of their system, closing it down for nearly seven minutes. Breaking through their encryption codes was a major achievement for us. They will have fixed the holes that we found, but we believe that we may have found others. It’s a fast-moving, ever-changing landscape. Have they patched it all? We don’t know yet. As much as we hope they haven’t, it would be foolish to rely on it. And seven minutes is not long.’

To his horror, Zola thought he felt a vibration against his stomach, in the area of his tunic’s inside pocket. He glanced over at Chesa and saw that she was looking at him. But she saw him looking and smiled before turning her focus back to the proceedings. She had not noticed anything. He reached into the pocket, his fingers finding the dronikus, immobile as it was before. He crushed and held it tight in his hand, his emotions in turmoil, all the while maintaining the appearance of being engaged in the meeting.

Amandine signalled that it was time for small group consults with the regions on the monitors. Zola joined Chesa who got onto a monitor and spoke to the West Sea Island group: ‘My friend here needs information about the Visiwa Community.’

Onscreen a woman identified as Imara said: ‘Greetings Mr Zola. We welcome you back.’

Zola waved. ‘Hello Imara.’

She said: ‘We have some terrible stuff happening here in our region. We are in need of assistance.’

‘What’s been happening?’ asked Chesa.

‘There’s been major ongoing conflict with Sesanti,’ she said. ‘The community took strike action against their experiments and they attacked the village with dronikus and rators. They burned down a number of houses.’

As she spoke the video signal began to drop. Amandine began shouting, ‘listen everybody! We’ve got to go! Move! Come on! We’ve got to go! We’ve been compromised! We’re not safe here.’

‘How did they get here so fast?’ someone asked.

‘Throw the Eyes in. Now!’ shouted Amandine, ‘and out that way. Move!’ She pointed to a small door that led deeper underground. ‘There are scatter points along the route.’

People threw their devices into the centre among the monitors and other gear and dashed towards the door. Zola withdrew the dronikus, concealing it in his hand, with the intention of throwing it into the pile, but hesitated for a short second and changed his mind. He slipped it back into his tunic, despatching only the Eyeto into the pile, before following Chesa and the others out the door. Chun sprayed a liquid from a large pressure canister across the equipment. It began melting on contact. Bubbling, gloopy mounds of lava-like plastics and metals dripped from the tables and walls, filling the space with an acrid, smoky stench. Chun rushed out, sealing the door behind herm.

The group made their way down dark, narrow passageways. Zola stuck with Chesa and Chun. At intervals a side tunnel or doorway opened and Amandine indicated for one or two people to head through it. At some steps leading down into the dark she pointed to Chesa who grabbed Chun and moved downwards. Zola made to follow but Amandine held him back, saying: ‘We’ll get you to where you’ve got to go.’

As they climbed up onto a gantry leading to a bridge above a street, Zola looked down to see Chesa open the throttle on her bike and zoom off into the night rain, with Chun riding pillion, hanging onto her.

Hey, what's that sound?

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Hey, what's that sound?

Thirteen, 20 January

Amandine, Reggie and Imara

Dronikus, a novel set on a burning planet called Earth.

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