Sanctuary Six’s intake hall is sterile. Like the academic minds in here, were too long away from the real world. The younger residents had grown up here in Sanctuary 6. Opened almost thirty five years before. They were already in positions of leadership, but they had no idea what it was like to spend four days watching people you lived with slaughtered like cattle. The memory itself is enough to rip me out of even my the trial determining my death. And more importantly, that of the men who got the refugee's out, the gangs, the soldiers, the volunteers all coming together, into one family for awhile. Shattered forever now, divided and conquered by the schoolyard bully.
Be funny if you should not be right the fuck where you are NOW.
I force myself to look away from the horrors in my head at the bright and clean, polished floors. Like entering what might look like Heaven but could just as easily be hell? The refugees look alienated by the cleanliness alone -- most of the refugees are still filthy, not even bothering to clean up on the road; their hope too far gone. I see it in some eyes now though. None of the black mold to be seen anywhere. The mold growing in every corner of the dying planet, the entropy of the universe slowly tearing at the seams of the universe itself.
The refugees move through the scanners in small groups, guided by workers in pastel colored uniforms.. Children cling to their parents. Parents cling to hope. They have not even considered Sanctuary 6 might trade them for safety. They didn't know they had been splashed with paint, as well.
The gangs stand behind the line — unmoving, uninvited. Adam watches the intake corridor like he’s studying enemy troop movement.. Theo keeps his hands in his pockets, eyes flicking between guards. He has two pistols, three shivs, the fighting skills and strength to take down men twice his size. Jake’s jaw flexes with every refugee that disappears behind the doors.
Jorge stands steady, arms crossed, breathing slow. A guard gestures to me. “Juan Rivera. Council chamber.”
Adam steps forward. “He doesn’t walk alone.”
The guard doesn’t blink. “He does now.”
Theo mutters, “Here it is.”
I turn to them all. "I will make no decisions without all four of you right here." I point at my head. "And here." I touch my heart.
Jake cracks his knuckles. “Say the word, Juan, and no meeting.”
Jorge’s voice is low. “We’ll be here.”
Maya touches my arm. “Be careful.”
I walk into a smaller chamber alone. The doors seal behind me. The chamber is circular, lit from above by a ring of white panels. Twelve councilors sit at a curved table, tablets glowing in front of them. Their faces range from worried, to fake calm, -- practiced, unreadable, politicians, no doubt.. I am in court. A court intentionally meant to make me feel small, overwhelmed. My opinion of the idyllic sanctuary 6 adjusts accordingly.
A woman in the center speaks.
“Juan Rivera. Thank you for coming.” Her voice is soft and kind, in remarkable contrast to the size of the knife she is stabbing in my back.
Tone analysis: controlled empathy. At best.
She continues.
“Your actions at the Celebrity Compound, run by Ellison Securities, amount to theft, destruction of property...”
I interrupt her in the same calm, soothing footage, "He calls people, 'property.' You used the same word.They were about to be sold to people like on the holo that started this all, you saw the perversions.."
“We have reviewed your footage. We have reviewed your interviews. We have reviewed your march.” She is reading a script, has to fold her shaking hands as she continues saying words that must sicken the poor woman. “And we have reached a decision.”
My anger feels volcanic, explosive. I am glad the gangs are not with me to tempt me to try to take them. The wrong decision would feel so right...
Stay in the moment. Brace yourself, kid.
Brace.
The woman looks at the others. They nod.
“Sanctuary Six will accept the refugees. Those who refuse to leave will be forced to leave. To this end, we are allowing a limited number of Ellison Security soldiers in to
I exhale — once, sharp.
She keeps going.
“Sanctuary Six will not accept the gangs.”
My jaw tightens, grinding my teeth before I stop myself. She keeps going.
“Sanctuary Six will not accept the prisoners.”
Heat rises in my chest.
She keeps going.
“Sanctuary Six will not accept you.”
I stare at her.
“You are so afraid of Koch, you are delivering families back to a slave holder! What the fuck kind of times are these?"
"The kind where humanity itself has to be preserved. We are protecting our city, from the danger you brought us.”
I step forward.
“You watched the pits,” I say. “You saw what they survived.”
“We did.”
“And you’re turning away them back over to those people. Good luck trying to get them to leave.”
“We are preserving Sanctuary Six. He will come in here with an army if we do not do this. He -- no you, actually, have given us no choice. If the refugees will not leave without help, we will bring in Ellison Security to round them up.”
I laugh — sharp, bitter. "You think you can bring in Ellison to round up their slaves, and they will leave afterwards?" I look at the floor, having a hard time stopping my laughter from going flat out hysterical. When I finally get control I go on, still chuckling as I speak, "You think you're preserving your comfort -- you will lose them ALL!"
I can tell they are shaken by my yelling in their quiet chamber. The thought settles into them again that they could end up slaves, as if it has already been accepted. They are ready to fully surrender. Probably have some back alley plan with Ellison. Stay in power to the casual viewer while Koch media sends out every thought allowed to think. I can envision it already, so can they.
A man on the council leans forward.
“Juan Rivera,” he says, “you brought armed factions to our gate. You expect us to welcome them?”
“They’re people,” I say.
“They’re dangerous and armed.”
“They’re alive because they are dangerous and armed. We saved humans, who could have easily been you... and will soon be.”
He ignores me and goes back to the notes in front of him. Reading what the AI told them was the best place to stab the knife in our back, where it thinks we cannot reach it to pull it out and attack them.
“They’re survivors.”
“They’re not Sanctuary Six.”
I breathe once, slow.
“What happens now?” I ask.
The woman lifts her tablet.
“We vote.”
The councilors tap their screens.
One by one.
Soft clicks.
Twelve votes.
Outcome predicted: unanimous rejection of gangs and Juan.
The woman looks up.
“Sanctuary Six votes to surrender the gangs, the prisoners, and Juan Rivera to Koch’s forces. The refugee's will remain under negotiations. The refugees will be housed, fed. If we cannot convince Koch to use fewer workers, we will allow him to retrieve whichever workers do not wish to leave."
I hold the sides of my head and close my eyes in frustration, yelling now, feeling like the veins in my temple are about to burst, "THEY WILL BE RETURNED TO THEIR EMPOYERS. SAFE AND SOUND." My outburst spews something from me out into the room, the anger hitting all the right targets. "You’re handing the rest of us over to die. Quite the legacy for Sanctuary 6.”
She doesn’t blink.
“We are handing you over to the rightful authorities.”
“Open the doors,” I say.
She nods
The doors slide open. The gangs look up as I walk out and come in close. The gangs can read by my body language what happened; eagle eyed and studied through dull years of watching guards for signs of buttons they could push, angles they could take, or just plain reconnaissance for the gang's histories, had taught them to read behavior with the best spies on the planet. I was not exactly trying to hide my rage. Tears from it alone flow from my eyes. Glad my sunglasses are on because I am sure the tears are adding to the dark bags under eyes.
In the gleaming, clean room, our dusty road clothes stand out from the citizens. I begin to feel like I do not fit in this glamor. That this could never be my end. But I damn well sure was not going to let Koch have it... not after the four seconds of hell I saw, or what he did to Elias, and worse, his family.
Adam’s voice is low. “They’re surrendering us.” A statement, not a question."
Jorge’s voice is steady. “To Ellison’s forces. I'll die first.” He kisses a gold medallion he has hanging around his throat, then crosses himself.
Jake explodes. “Koch dies."”
Adam looks at me. “What’s the plan?”
I breathe once, slow.
Ruby whispers:
Juan…
‘I know.’
I look at all of them.
“We’re not staying,” I say.
Jake nods instantly. “Good.”
Theo exhales. “Thought so.”
Jorge cracks his neck. “We move.”
Adam steps forward.
“Juan,” he says, “tell us what comes next.”
I look at the gate. At the city. At the council chamber behind me.
At the betrayal.
“We finish what we started,” I say.
The gangs nod.
All of them.
Even the ones who wouldn’t look at me an hour ago.
Sanctuary Six watches from balconies and windows — silent, afraid, complicit.
Ruby whispers:
The vote is done. The betrayal is complete.
I breathe once, slow.
“Let’s go.”
We walk out of the chamber.
And Sanctuary Six closes its doors behind us.
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