Guardians of the Dark

Kasen propped his head on his right hand and gazed out the window of the railway pod. It sped through the Eastern Living Section, a lattice of identical two-story houses, all boxy, crammed together, and painted an eggshell-white. Of the two Living Sections – Eastern and Southern – the first was considered the more privileged community. (Not that its appearance varied much from the latter, though.) Its inhabitants included the higher ranked AOL Officers, media influencers, politicians, and medical professionals.

High-rise apartment buildings towered closer to the city centre, each an alley-width apart and nearly grazing the heavens. The Metropolis of Light Railway swivelled in between and under the buildings, stretching all the way from the Western Farming Section, to the more suburban outskirts of the Eastern Living Section.

Kasen sat up as he neared one of the many identical houses: His.

The railway pod slowed, but he waited until it had completely stopped before he swiped his wrist across the panel by the door. The light on the pod’s ceiling switched from red to green – his payment went through.

The door slid open with a ding and Kasen climbed out. He stepped away from the pod just in time for it to whizz off again. He gazed up at the plain, squared-everything house in front of him. The entire front yard consisted of concrete, save for the walk to the door – a path of glass panels with moss underneath.

Kasen made across the panels to the door. He pressed his wrist against the scanner next to it, and awaited the customary, “Welcome home, Kasen Traynor.” The door slid open, revealing the even more dismal interior of his house. He entered right into the living room, which transitioned into the dining room beyond a stale, black carpet. A silver box sat on the dining table, against which leaned a card with a picture of a balloon on it.

He walked to the table and picked up the card. His parents had already left for work when he got downstairs that morning, so he had expected some sort of birthday gesture. He recognised his mother’s handwriting inside.

It read, “Kasen, our darling boy, happy birthday! Sorry we weren’t home this morning, but we promise to make it up to you tonight. Your father has a special present he wants to give you. Oh, and good luck with your aptitude test today! We believe in you and all that you can do. All our love, Mom and Dad.”

Kasen promptly shut the card. He felt the urge to tear it in half, but settled for tossing it on the table instead. Mom and Dad? A gift? He scoffed. His father probably forgot it was even his birthday, never mind bought him a special present. He sighed to himself and settled the card upright. At least his mother meant well.

Kasen picked up the silver box. His lunch. He carried it over to the living room, where he flopped down on the sofa, placed the box in his lap, and pressed the button to open it. Steam billowed from within, revealing a chunk of combined meat with instant vegetables on the side. A special birthday lunch indeed.

Kasen took a bite of the meat. Bone pieces crunched between his teeth, and leftover fat stuck to the roof of his mouth. Chicken. Beef. Lamb. It’d been a while since he had all three. His mother must’ve spent extra for his birthday. He mixed his fork through the vegetables, scooped some up, and popped it in his mouth.

“Projection pad,” he announced in between chews, “turn on.”

The projection pad on the wall came to life.

“Channel 5, news.”

Nothing happened.

“Channel 5, news,” he repeated, and the screen switched from a sitcom about aliens on some foreign planet, to a blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman on the news. Marian Traynor. His mother. She sat behind a desk, clutching a stack of papers while a series of horrifying clips played on a projection pad behind her.

The headline read, “BREAKING NEWS: A raid on the Northern Collection Point leaves water supply dwindling.”

“Unmute,” Kasen said.

The projection pad instantly responded, and his mother’s voice filled the living room. She spoke sombrely and monotone, and expressed almost no emotion. She occasionally contorted her brows, but merely for effect.

“While we’re still awaiting confirmation on exactly how much water was lost during the raid, the leading engineer, Dr. Miles Sullivan, advises everyone to remain calm, and to take urgent note of their daily water usage. He insists there’s nothing to worry about, and asks that we all try to save as much water as possible.”

Kasen finished his last bit of food, then put the box beside him on the sofa. He lay back with his hands behind his head.

“Last night’s raid on the water supply rounds it up to a total of ten raids on the Metropolis of Light in the last month,” his mother went on, reading off her notes. She looked the camera in the eye as she added, “When asked for a comment, Emperor Gorgo Hamman promised to have the fence’s security updated over the following weeks.”

Kasen rolled his eyes. They’ve already updated the fence twice since the beginning of the year. He glanced sideways out the window, catching a glimpse of said fence. It looked a grid of woven electrical lines – all emanating a blue-white light – that stretched from Collection Point to Collection Point, all around the city. It kept Roamers away without trouble, but, unlike them, the Raiders weren’t affected by sharp light.

They were the real problem.

“In other, much lighter, news,” said his mother, suddenly grinning, “I’m happy to report that this year’s Day of the Choosing exceeded everyone’s expectations. We’ve had the most impressive outcome in years.”

“Sure, impressive …” Kasen grumbled to himself.

“Out of a total of five-thousand applicants from across the city, an impressive seven-hundred-and-five managed to secure themselves a position on the Army of the Light. According to the most recent aptitude test results, five-hundred of said applicants were selected as Gatherers, two-hundred as Monitors, and” – a brief pause in which Kasen involuntarily swallowed – “five as Guardians. What a brilliant turnout!”

What?

Only five Guardians?

Kasen sat up. The amount of Guardians were always sparse, but a mere five? He scraped his teeth together, recalling the statistics. Out of five-thousand applicants, how did he, Kasen Traynor, manage to fall under said five? He wasn’t that special. In fact, other than the reputation of his parents, he was pretty much … average.

“Let’s go to a live message from General Bentley Traynor himself,” reported his mother, and the screen switched from the sleek, red-and-blue news studio, to the spotlight-lit roof of the Eastern Collection Point.

A sturdy man – with a squarish jaw and serious eyes – stood at the edge of the roof, his chin tilted to the sky. The Dark stretched in all directions behind him, and with only the vague outlines of Gatherers in insolation suits below. One of the cameramen handed him a microphone, then signalled for him to begin.

“Greetings, Metropolis of Light,” said General Bentley Traynor. His voice had a crackle to it, tuned with an unusual amount of charisma. “While I’m not a man of many words” – Kasen scoffed – “I’d like to express my utmost pride in this year’s applicants. Today, the Army of the Light is seven-hundred-and-five soldiers stronger.

“Come tomorrow, five-hundred more Gatherers will be out and about in the Dark, expanding our city’s borders, and two-hundred more Monitors will patrol the streets to keep the peace.” His father attempted a grin, but it immediately faded again. “Together, my good people, we will banish the Dark once and for all!”

Kasen huffed as his father went on to discuss the possible reasons for this year’s increase in accepted applicant rates. Of course, why would he even think of mentioning the Guardians? In his eyes – alike the rest of the city’s – they were no more than watchdogs, than timebombs about to detonate at any moment. If it was up to the great General Bentley Traynor, he’d exile every Guardian in the city, like he’d done with Samael.

“Channel 7, weather,” announced Kasen, and the projection pad switched from his father’s face, to a table with temperatures and rainfall predictions. He rose from the sofa, picked up the silver box, and strode to the kitchen. He placed it on the control counter that separated the dining room from the rest of the kitchen – the hand steriliser, garbage disposal, and water dispenser – and pressed the wash-up button on the panel. The silver box lowered into the counter, on its way to be washed and stored with the other silverware.

Kasen sterilised his hands, then upped the staircase to his bedroom. It looked less of a bedroom, though, and more like a closet with a bed in it, but that was the typical size of any room in the Metropolis of Light. Since the population grew too fast for the AOL to keep up, space posed even more of a problem than food or water. He took off his test jacket, tossed it on his bed, and approached his open bedroom window. He could see right into his neighbour’s bedroom, and could likely hop inside with a single bound.

Kasen stepped on his bed and climbed through the window. A narrow ledge separated his house from his neighbour’s, upon which he balanced with one foot, grabbed the edge of the roof, and pulled himself on top.

The roof of his house lay parallel with the horizon. He got to his feet, slowly, and stepped around the solar panels to the corner where he usually sat. This particular corner not only looked out across the Eastern Collection Point, but it was also the only spot where his own house touched that of his neighbour’s.

Someone was already there when he arrived …

“I wondered whether you’d be up here,” said Kasen, lowering himself into a sitting position.

“Uh, of course … why wouldn’t I be up here?” countered Clay, swinging his feet off the edge of his own side of the roof. He was still in his test uniform – jacket, trainers, and all. “This is our meeting spot, isn’t it?”

Kasen also lowered his feet over the edge. The soles of his trainers felt both heavy and light at the same time, but nonetheless free. He shrugged. “I didn’t know whether you’d be done already. And, if you passed or not.”

“How dare you insult me like that!” gasped Clay, clapping his hand to his mouth.

“You passed, then?”

“Did you?”

They looked at each other for a moment, each studying the other’s expression. Clay’s mouth little by little stretched into a grin, until he couldn’t suppress his excitement any longer and broke into a full smile.

“I passed!” he howled, laying back and kicking through the air.

Kasen clutched the edge of the roof to steady himself. “Congratulations, Clay. I always knew you could do it.”

“Come on,” pressed Clay, elbowing him, “stop keeping me in the dark – pun intended. Did my boy make it or not?”

“Yea, I passed.”

“I knew it! Application Day, we schooled you good!” Clay renewed his previous fit of kicks, then added in a couple of punches at the Eastern Collection Point in the distance. “Kasen and I, we’re coming for you, Dark! You and every little Roamer, every little Raider, and every little Corrupted that try to stop us!”

Kasen scratched behind his head. He took a moment to just look at Clay – at the smile across his face and vigour in his every move. This was Clay’s dream. He had wanted to serve on the AOL since as young as seven years old, and not because his father was the General, but because he actually sought to help people.

“Gatherers, can you believe it?” Clay sighed.

“Nope,” replied Kasen.

Clay just went on, “You should’ve seen my old man’s face when I went to see him at the hospital after my test. He was still in scrubs and all that, but he couldn’t help but squeeze me half to death when I told him.”

A pause.

“What did the General say, then?”

Kasen shifted. “He – uh – didn’t.”

“What? You haven’t told him yet?” Clay raised his brows. He sucked in his cheeks as he always did when stunned. “Why? You’ve been scrambling for his approval your entire life, Kasen, why not jump at the first –”

“I’m a Guardian, Clay.”

Clay scooted back an inch. His jaw worked, and his eyes flicked from Kasen, to the row of houses across from them, to the street below. He didn’t say anything at first, but then, “Ha! Really funny, dude.”

“I’m not joking.”

Silence.

“You’re a – a Guardian?”

Kasen made to stand up, but Clay pulled him back down. “Hey, Kasen,” he said, “where are you going?”

“You said it yourself this morning, don’t you remember? In the waiting room. Guardians are ticking timebombs. They’re all crazy, a bunch of Corrupted. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

Clay frowned so deeply, his brows covered his eyes. “What? Do you really think I’d write you off because of this?” A pause. “Maybe if you’d been selected as a Monitor … they’re just glorified security guards, you –”

“This is serious, Clay.”

“I know.”

Kasen rubbed his hands across his face, then combed back his hair. He lowered onto his back, basking at the icy concrete against his spine. He looked up at the sky, at the several scattered clouds and the sun.

Clay joined him. “What – uh – is your dad going to say?”

Kasen shrugged. “He didn’t even mention the Guardians on the news, so …” His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He pried it off and licked across his lips. “They, well … you know what people say about them.”

“Kasen, you’re not like the rest of them.”

“Aren’t I?” Kasen challenged. He recalled that moment with Doctor Marx, the moment she had told him his selection. He just didn’t want to believe it. Not then, and certainly not now. “She said I have a darkness in me, Clay.”

“Who?”

“The Doctor who analysed me.”

Clay lay still for a moment, rapping his fingers on his stomach. He turned his head toward Kasen, slowly, still not saying anything in reply. He likely didn’t know what to say – how to possibly make things better. Seconds passed until, at last, he said, “Darkness or not, you’ll always stay my best friend, Kasen.”

More silence.

“I mean, it’s not like I can just move away from you or anything.” Clay laughed, although he missed that certain whistle between his teeth. He at once sat up and reeled in his right leg, pretending to tie his shoes.

“Anyway, enough about my problems,” said Kasen to lighten the mood. He also sat up. “I noticed you looked at the Eastern Collection Point when you spoke earlier. I take it that’s where you’re posted, then?”

Clay somewhat relaxed. “Nah, all five-hundred of us are going there for the first day of orientation tomorrow. Apparently they’re dispersing us from there, but my old man thinks I’ve got a pretty good shot at staying at the Eastern Collection Point. Something about living within a certain radius from it and so on.”

Kasen shook his head, although he only caught parts of what Clay said. His thoughts drifted to what it would’ve been like to also be selected as a Gatherer, and whether he might’ve been more excited if that was the case.

“Kasen, are you listening?” Clay’s voice snapped him back.

“Yea, yea,” Kasen lied, “it sounds cool.”

“Dude, I was asking you where you’re going tomorrow.”

Kasen’s cheeks warmed. “Oh, I spoke to a woman over my transmission band after the test. She said she’ll be sending an AOL railway pod to my house in the morning. Something about taking me to Craedor Fortress.”

“Woah,” breathed Clay, honestly impressed now, “you think you’ll get to meet Emperor Hamman himself?”

“I don’t know.” Kasen rubbed his chin. He looked at the street below, at an approaching railway pod. Its windows were tinted, but he could just about make out the blonde tips of Marian Traynor’s hair. The pod pulled up in front of his house, and his mother got out, still dressed in the pantsuit she had worn on the news.

“Please, Clay, don’t try to make me feel better,” said Kasen as he got to his feet. He pushed up his sleeves and blew the ashy tips of his fringe out of his eyes. “I’m quitting the Guardians the first chance I get.”

“What?” Clay jumped up after him. He nearly toppled off the roof, but managed to wedge his foot under a solar panel to stabilise himself. “You can’t quit, Kasen! You’re a Traynor. I know you, you’re not corrupted.”

Kasen turned his back to Clay. He faced the city now, and could see the top of Craedor Fortress in the centre of it all. The beam of Dark that shot from its top looked but a thin line from all the way out here, but the sight of it nonetheless filled his chest with weight. Doctor Marx had told him to fight the Dark, and that only those who failed were affected by it. But … was he really good enough, strong enough, to prevail?

“Kasen –”

“I have to wash-up before dinner, before my dad arrives.” Kasen didn’t turn his head. “Good luck at orientation tomorrow.”

Clay became quiet. Even his breathing stilled. Kasen would’ve thought he had gone if his shadow didn’t cast across the concrete. He took a step forward, onto Kasen’s roof, and placed a hand on his right shoulder.

“I’m serious, bud,” he said, softly now, “this doesn’t define you. I’ll be your friend, no matter what you decide. And, if your dad … if he freaks out about this … and does something … just know I’m here for you, okay?”

“Thanks. For everything.” Kasen tensed his shoulders and Clay mistook this as a gesture for him to let go.

“Well,” he said, rubbing his hands together while he reversed onto his own roof, “I guess I should also get going.”

“I guess so.”

They retreated in silence, swivelling through the solar panels, and climbed down to their opposite windows.

“Hey, Kasen,” said Clay just before they separated, “I know you don’t want me to say this, but again, happy birthday.”

Kasen stopped halfway into his bedroom. He gripped the window frame, squeezing his hands as tightly as he could. He had a slither of a view of the street, and briefly saw another railway pod pull up to his house.

General Bentley Traynor.

“Thanks, Cla –” he began, but as he turned his head, Clay’s window was already shut and tinted for the night.