Model Citizens by Daniel Shand

Author:Daniel Shand
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2022-05-05T00:00:00+00:00

He checked the details. The response had come only fifteen minutes after his original message.

Okay. So he wouldn’t get the message out via the mainstream media. Whatever. He’d been putting off checking his own personal outlets, waiting to let momentum build, but now he pulled them up, his online presences, his hubs and portals. He stared at the mobile. There were no updates, no notifications, no interactions. It didn’t make sense. He dug around for a moment and found that the video was gone, deleted direct from the source without any explanation, any apology. That happened now and then, fair enough, but his video didn’t contain anything truly problematic.

He tried again, throwing the file up on the field. He waited a few moments and checked. Already it had been removed. No apology, no explanation.

He sat back, letting the mobile rest at his side. In the hallway, the ghost walked by, singing a song beneath its breath. It went back and forth, like a bear in a cage. Alastair’s knee started to go; his whole lower leg. He felt the big fleshy muscle of his calf jerk into cramp. Clearly the powers-that-be did not want his evidence out there. That much felt obvious. A thought occurred to him and he went to the mobile. He pulled up his social feed and started a simple textual message, explaining the situation he found himself in, an admission that he realised how bizarre it all sounded, and a request for help and advice. He went to upload, but the box was greyed over. He thumbed it once, twice, three times. Nothing.

Truly panicking, he went from room to room. He felt light-headed, queasy. He spoke to the ghost, saying, ‘They’ve got me. I tried to put it on the field and they noticed and I’m blocked in. I can’t get anything out.’

He checked on the junior. His J still hovered across the same location on the map. What the fuck had happened to him? Why wasn’t he working? Alastair fought his breath down into a reasonable state. He hissed between gritted teeth.

Fine. Okay. Forget about it. The whole idea was a dud. Whatever. He’d pull himself together and get into the office and take it from there. See if he could dig up anything on where the junior went, apologise for the missed morning, try to negate the negative hit on his stats. He found a mirror in the toilet and looked into it. Bits of beard grew thickly from his neck and cheek. Bruised skin bulged around his eyes. His bristly hair stood up all over from lack of maintenance. A grim state of affairs.

‘Come on,’ he said to the reflection. ‘Get it together.’

Then he realised the time. Just after eleven. Just after eleven and he hadn’t heard the flume go with his medicine. He went out to check, passing the ghost, and saw the delivery slot sit there empty. Even though it was pointless, he opened the transparent lid to check. A breath of stale air blew against his face.

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