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28-06-10

6M

p2

Upside-Down

by

Peter Scatchard

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SYNOPSIS:

Thomas Brown is fleeing with his family from the rapid Ice Age hitting England in 2052, whilst a new life happens in his dreams every night he falls asleep. The youngster soon becomes unable to tell the difference between dreams and reality. He must confront the problems of both his worlds and stay alive against overwhelming guilt and depression caused by murders he commits in both Earth and his dream world Iris, as Yunell Eventus. He must explore the seemingly untouched natural utopia of Iris and indulge escapism, picking up the threads of a forgotten life. But as the two worlds merge and his perfect vision is shattered, insanity draws near and he must resist the temptation of suicide and find the man who forced him to live two parallel lives.

                                                                                                      DAY 1
                                                                                               

What is the difference between reality and dreams?

 

She’s shivering. Why won’t she stop shivering is she all right?  The Windchill stopped about an hour ago, so why is she still shivering?

 

A car horn blared somewhere beyond the swaying sea of people, echoing with frustration until it finally subsided.

The Brown family were as insignificant as all the other hundreds of groups of onlookers trying to get as close to the port as possible, where every inch seemed like a mile gained. It was wet and dark and cold. In fact, it was so cold that not a single person regretted being compacted to the next, huddled up like penguins in a cruel and frozen blizzard.

With no progress being made, all the evacuees could hope for was that another Windchill would not strike again that night.

 

One, two, three, and myself. That’s four…. right?  Four…. Mum keeps saying to Ella, everything will be fine. Why say that? The only time I’ve heard those words is when everything wasn’t fine. So why say it, why lie? She’s not that young. She understands what is happening. Maybe that’s why she’s shivering; she’s scared. And I’m the only one actually helping her. But she’s getting heavier and my arms are getting colder.
Why did Dad decide to leave? We need him now. Even Mum needs him now. Her eyes keep darting from me to Ella, then me, then Ella.Claire still won’t shut up. Does she not realise that no one is listening to her?

    “...these problems are only made worse by the EU’s inability to make a decisive decision. I mean, there’s only a one in three chance of us even passing the French National Guard at Calais, and that’s for each of us. It’s a lottery. So what happens if we get split up? What if only two of us get through, or three….leaving only one of us behind…. Mum? What if Ella’s left behind? Or maybe they let women and children go first? Like the Titanic? The Titanic... it’s cold, wet... what if we get thrown overboard? Then...”

She’s going to worry Ella.

    “...and it’s not like I’ll find myself a Leonardo DiCaprio onboard. He’s in his seventies now. I’m twenty-one; that’s a bit of an age difference.”

    “Shut up, Claire! Can you honestly not be quiet for five minutes? Ella’s clearly upset and you’re only making things worse. You’ve always got to talk; be the centre of attention. Just be quiet for once!”

    “Oh Calméz vous. Grow up a little. See what I did there? Practicing my French for our little boat trip.”

    “Claire, Thomas! We’re almost there now. Your father-”

 

There was a muffled shouting not far ahead. Seemingly unsuccessful, a tall figure from whom the yelling had no doubt come, escaped from the crowd by clambering upon a smouldering van. The van had been toppled on its side, the windows smashed and the interior destroyed. The roof of the van faced the approaching crowd like a sign. Upon it was scrawled Lalkalka in blood-red paint.
    “People!” shouted the figure. The man was in his thirties; balding slightly with short ginger hair and lines appearing on his face. His ripped clothes and generally ragged appearance gave the impression of one who is after something with such determination that less significant things like personal image had seemed to have been a concern abandoned long ago.

 

Why can’t I be like that? I mean, since when were any of the greatest of people remembered for what they looked like?

 

    “People! Free people and those who are free and not aware of it yet!” shouted the ginger figure, whose voice did not falter, showing the man’s lack of doubt or compromise in what he believed in. This instantly overrode its weak, hoarse, smoke-ridden physical imperfections.

    “We do not need to let this world dictate our survival! Why are we all huddled in the cold to get aboard a ship that does not want to take us? Our country is becoming uninhabitable and we must save ourselves! There is no mercy to be found here on these ships, where those operating it merely keep to the rules about how many people the ships can apparently take. Their only aim is to avoid their position being threatened, when they should cram as many people as possible on!”

 

 Well why don’t you say that to them?

 

    “France does not belong to the French, or any human being. It is merely a piece of land on an earth that we humans share with each other and everything. But never think that if the Border Guard do not let you in you cannot get in at all: they have no right to deny you passage anywhere. Build boats, use whatever means you can to cross the borders yourselves! Nothing is controlling you! No control exists in this world but that which your mind puts in front of itself, making you believe that certain things are impossible. No control exists... No control...Lalkalka! Lalkal-!”

Suddenly a shot rent the air-

 

 Down! Down!  “Mum! Get down! Ella hold on!” Claire….?  “Claire! Stay close!”  Why is he still standing? Is he mad?

 

The crowd were flat on the ground having heard the gunshot, which, judging by the high-pitched swirl of the ear-splitting noise, had come from a Coding-Mile a primeval rapid-fire gauss weapon invented in the early 2040s. It had been originally designed to replace standard military issue weapons of the United States Armed Forces, but due to its cheap cost and relative reliability, it soon became widely utilised by paramilitaries, policemen, and even mercenaries.

Thomas’s view of the late afternoon sunless sky was no longer obscured by people and he could see faintly in the distance a hundred or so figures, most likely British and French Army soldiers, alongside three gigantic boats, silhouetted against a horizon of icy blue ocean. This was all behind multiple steel barbed-wire fences that separated the crowds and hundreds of large canvas tents. Much closer to him was the upturned van with the man still standing on the top, like a sentinel in the mist.
    “Get up!” he shouted, his voice likening itself to a wild animal now. “These men cannot control us with gunshots! Get up people! Get up!”
    More gunshots sounded from the distance and three men climbed up onto the van and attacked the shouter, punching him viciously and dragging him down to the ground.

 

    “Good one,” said Karen Brown in a whisper. “He could have got us all killed.”

    “The nerve of that stupid guy!” said Claire louder after the commotion began to subside and the crowd stood up and resumed the barging. “You would have thought that he’d get the hint after the gunshot, but no! There’s always someone trying to be a hero and endangering everyone else! “

    “Well at least he is confident in expressing the views that we all have!” said Thomas. “Everyone else is too scared to get up there and shout defiance at the French.”

    “Well why don’t you go and get yourself shot or beaten up?” said Claire patronisingly. “I don’t see why the French should be seen as the enemy anyway! I mean, they’re here to transport us!”

    “No they’re not!” exploded Thomas. “The French have only showed up to only allow certain people to board the boats! It’s the English that are transporting us you idiot!”

 

I hate older sisters sometimes.

 

    “But we should have to pass certain criteria to go to another country. Are you saying that immigration policies should not exist?” She smiled smugly, as if her words were the final conclusion of the conversation.

    “In time of crisis, yes! And even when there isn’t a crisis, what right does anyone have to refuse you passage into their country?”

    “They have every right if they are a citizen of that country and you are not!”

    “It was a rhetorical question,” said Thomas. “No one has that right, for it was only by luck that they happened to be born in that country. They are manipulating that luck to act like they own the place.”

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