Revere

"So, have you thought of a name yet?" The nurse glanced at the mother as she clipped the collar around the neck of the baby.

"Brad," she winced in reply as the needle of the collar perforated the spine of the new-born. "After his dad."

"It looks like he's destined to be a farmer," the nurse swung the computer screen around towards the mother. "He’s going to have a solid lifetime of sixty five years too; save for any accidents."

"The same as his dad," the mother disapprovingly murmured with a trembling lip.

The spiked needle from the collar pierced the back of the neck, of the new-born. The midwives were accustomed to the brutality of bringing new life into the world; this was routine. A lack of reaction from the child highlighted how normalised this sort of behaviour now was, the process was perfect. There was an element of guilt from the mother, she should be happy with bearing a new child but the predetermined pathway of the child had suddenly become a reality.

The nurse passed the child to the mother, "I'll go and get dad."

Love loomed as she glanced into the sleepy blue eyes of the baby, the darkness of the child's forthcoming life faded away into the back of her mind. She whispered a promise of a fruitful life before dad burst through the door and past the security guard.

“Slow down son,” the guard exclaimed.

Each birthing room was monitored by a strong male guard to ensure that collars were properly fitted in the absence of a father. He stepped forward’s toward the dad to intimidate and demonstrate dominance which was enough to air some calmness in the room. But not for long.

"A boy!?" the dad rushed over, nearly slipping in the process. "I'm so proud of you Em, and the little one..."

"Brad Junior," she smiled and angled the baby towards the delighted dad.

Brad was ecstatic at with Emily's name choice. It had become a tradition for the mother to name children on the day of the birth. He stroked the head of the baby and kissed his wife but the tone of the room soon lowered as Brad brushed his clammy hand against the fixed collar around the child's neck.

"These Locket's have developed a lot since ours were fitted," Brad pulled slightly on his own locket and noticed that the heart pendant was now half full. Or half empty, depending on how optimistic the owner was. Brad had reached midlife and the heart shaped locket was a daily reminder of how long he had left to live.

The collar had been nicknamed a Locket due to the digital heart on the front that pulsated in sync with the real heart. The spine fixture of the locket was fitted with an advanced computer chip, that wrapped around the owner’s neck on a Gold plated elastic thread. It wasn’t an eyesore; it was beautifully crafted and pretty to look at. The Government’s dark motives behind the locket were masked with elegance.

"He's going to be a farmer, Brad," Emily cried. She tried to lift herself up from then bed but the restraints around her ankles were tightly fitted to the bed.

"No he isn't, I promise. I know a guy who is going to sort this out. Our family and my name are going to get out of this cycle of slavery."

Years of analytics had provided the Government with the perfect blueprint on what the country needed, in order to be efficient and cost effective. The death dates controlled and predicted the maximum exposure to pensions and health costs. It was a well-oiled machine.

The nurse entered the room and updated the computer system with the child’s name and unique collar number. The screen flashed green meaning that the Government had now been informed of their new citizen. Switching another light on brightened the room and the nurse turned her attention to the mother. A handheld electronic reader scanned the mother’s locket and the nurse acknowledged the reading – her hormones were getting back to a pre pregnancy state. Monitoring health was a primary function of the locket and the Government would usually know that a child was expected before the mother. No pregnancy was a secret and the looming threat of a disconnected locket meant all lives were under control.

“Now remember, don’t tamper with the Locket. It is quite volatile in the early stages of life and removal will have devasting consequences,” despite the nurse’s previous lack of sympathy, she couldn’t bear say the word death.

A week of nappy changing and sleepless had passed. "I'm meeting up with Frank for a few beers - wetting the baby's head," Brad kissed his son and wife goodbye.

Emily looked dishevelled. The birth and nurturing a new-born was always going to be exhausting but the alone time at home allowed the reality of their life to become the daily topic of conversation. It was taking its toll, raising a child knowing he was going to become one of many thousands of farmers was a depressing thought. There was no malice or disrespect towards farmers from Brad and Emily but they wanted more from their family – they had no control.

With a swift closing of the front door, Brad started the short journey to the bar to meet his childhood friend. Brad and Frank schooled together and they now work together in the hills of Lancashire. Despite the longstanding friendship, Brad had some concern on what he is letting himself in for. Nerves were beginning to set in but a sudden rush of rain forced him to speed up.

"A pint please, mate," Brad slapped his hand on Frank's turned back and shook his jacket dry.

"How you doing, pal! Quick, grab a seat in the corner and I’ll get the beers in."

Brad took a gulp of beer and checked around the room for prying eyes and ears, "Look, you can't say anything to Emily. She's dead set against this idea."

"Don't worry, lips sealed," Frank lined the rim of his pint glass with his finger. "Anyway, it isn’t just about you. We both need to be careful with this... drink up, I said we would meet him in twenty minutes."

"Have you got the money?" Frank asked as he clutched the steering wheel and checked his mirror. Brad flashed his inside pocket, a wad of cash. All saved over numerous years without the Governments knowledge. Hiding money under a mattress was medieval but it was one of only a few things in life that the population had control of.

Several parking spaces were available upon arrival. Brad was familiar with the building – he was a regular clubber in his younger days and Cr8 was the nightclub epicentre of the North – a catalyst in the dance music world. Frank chose the closest space to the door.

The car park was dingy, under a bridge with obvious leaks from the canal above. Three punches on the metal clad door was enough to get the towering security guards’ attention. "Drake," Frank coughed and handed Brad's bundle of cash over.

The pair took a seat in a booth of the old abandoned nightclub VIP area. "Just wait here," the security guy croaked.

Walls were lined with empty beer glasses and dust, leaving Frank and Brad to wonder how such a popular establish could be left to ruin. They couldn’t look at each other as they twitched in anticipation.

"So, you want better prospects for your kid?" A smartly dressed figure emerged from the shadows.

"Drake?" Frank replied.

“Drake is just the daily buzz word for the door. Just call me The Commander,” he laughed in reply.

The Commander was a towering man with broad shoulders. It was unlikely that the security guard was ever required.

"Yes, I can't have my boy being a farmer. Not like me and all the fathers before me,” Brad interjected.

"Well, the new Locket's are complicated. Much more so than mine and yours, but I think we've cracked it.” The Commander took rested against the back of chair. “It's good that you've come so early. How old is he; your son? A week?"

"Yea," Brad nodded.

"Perfect. We'll get him in next week, we'll call you when it's ready,” The Commander turned to leave.

"How do you do it?" Brad scratched his head and Frank slid over to shut him up.

"No, I don't mind," The Commander gestured to Frank. "We can re-programme the locket to extend life and change future occupations of any individual. We're able to remove the Locket without instant death."

“Hacking?” Brad asked.

“Pretty much but this is some advanced…” The Commander turned towards the door after hearing a clanging sound.

"Sorry sir, but he insisted," the security guard interrupted.

"Mr Clarke?" Brad questioned with a puzzled expression. The commotion made him quiver initially but he recognised the person entering the room.

"Do you want your boy to live?" The Commander grabbed Brad and he nodded back. "You will not mention any of this to anyone or there will be consequences. The same goes to you Frank... you hear me?"

They both nodded as Mr Clarke moved over to the seating area.

"You're probably wondering why me, the Deputy Prime Minister, is in a dingy hellhole like this?" Mr Clarke laughed. "I'll let The Commander explain.”

The Commander sat them all down, "Mr Clarke was one of the original experiments. We needed someone to infiltrate the inside. Somebody to help disband these collars for good," he flicked his own collar with distain.

"He reprogrammed my collar to become a politician and it worked. There are a load of us involved now but we still have a long way to go to overturn this dictatorship," Mr Clarke chipped in.

“The government have been at this for the last sixty years or so. They’ve been controlling the population numbers with pre-set death dates and keeping the same families in the same societal circles,” The Commander was passionate as he animated his speech. “We’re finally making progress. There’s going to be less people like me and you farming and working the factories.”

The Commander pulled his coat to the side and revealed a pistol, "Look, you know too much now. Are you in?"

Brad looked surprised. The initial nerves of handing over money and his son’s life for a better life in return had dispersed. Only to be replaced by shock. A gust of dampness and sewage suddenly came to life within the room as Brad’s senses heightened – the lack of upkeep on the building was more than obvious now. Lights flickered and mimicked the speed of thoughts in Brad’s mind, but he recognised the opportunity presented to him. The offer seemed too big of a prospect to turn down and it could be lifechanging for him and his son. He didn’t want to contemplate the possible outcomes if he rejected the offer.

Brad wiped his perspired forehead with his hand before rubbing it dry on his trousers. He held his hand out firmly towards The Commander, “I’m in.”