Ethel the Vigilante Granny

Ethel the Vigilante Granny Part 3

Ethel opened her eyes to find herself safely back in her vault, deep in the heart of the city.

As she had grown older she had withdrawn from public life, not from a lack of physical energy but from an increasing feeling of disconnection to events that had once seemed so important. She had performed her best deeds when she was younger and no longer felt the need to prove herself.

Her body hadn't aged. Her face looked old but internally technology repaired and replaced her cells in realtime with no fuss allowing her to match a twenty year old in strength and speed if she so wished. But the pleasures from that time didn't appeal to Ethel which left a conundrum: what do you do with long life if it stops being exciting?

She had changed and this was why the dream bothered her so much, perfection should not have to change. She put on a bathrobe and sat up, examining her bedroom from her four poster bed as if to reassure herself that nothing was out of place by examining her favourite artifacts and mementos. She had photos tracing her lineage back to the families that had defeated democracy in Britain. Her favourite weapons hung on the walls. The bones of the most vociferous critics were hanging in coloured globes from her plant. But these were just things, by themselves they could not relieve her anxiety- pleasant though they were.

The dream was the opposite of everything she believed in.

"I will never, ever become middle class," she said, but there was no-one to hear her.

Neither was there anybody who could comfort her, or to swap jokes with. She had spent her life removing unnecessary elements from society and with that accomplished she had done the same to her fellow elitists. Well, she hadn't killed them but she had come to despise and avoid them.

Her electronic bunker had no windows and so was unpopular with her own kind as a place to live which meant she had an entire sub-section of the city to herself which she had filled with ultra advanced servant robots.

People had become more and more unnecessary in her life.

So why do I feel there is something missing? She thought. Ethel tried to shrug it off and began to dress appropriately for the autumn harvest celebrations. It was time for their kind to celebrate the right to be right.

Although Ethel knew this was the right way for society to conduct itself she felt the first stirrings of fear- not normal for her.

She had fought Zobar the barbarian in singe combat, wiped out the paramilitary human rights lawyers in laser battles on the Moon and had been threatened by people wielding the best weapons the black market could provide. Free floating anxiety was not a familiar part of her emotional landscape and yet the unpleasnt, sickly feeling in her stomach refused to subside.

She put it down to the resistance she felt to having company and tried to carry on preparing herself to meet her social obligation, the one date on her calendar when she had to meet people lest she become a perpetual recluse.

But the dream had felt unusually real and did not give up its clutches so easily. The strangest part of it all was that she had been on the other side. The wrong side. The middle class side.

Fighting for equality against the oppressors. And it had felt good.

What a nightmare.

It was the future and all the world's problems had been solved. There was no war, no crime and every disease had been cured.

In the year 2357 nobody had to perform lowly menial labour, machines were advanced enough to do everything.

The Flying cities held records of all the knowledge that had made this possible, the end of history and the age of leisure. These gleaming octahedrons were a mile across and were invulnerable to physical attack. Force fields protected them from extreme weather and a variety of weapons.

Celebrations were at their height at one of the Jewel and Warden cities. The master of ceremonies spoke about the achievements but tried to keep his speech from becoming too lengthy.

Everyone in attendance was in evening dress and the behaviour was reasonable. This was a family event-- a harvest festival of the times, recognising the bountiful life high-technology had made possible. It was the mix of ages that had prompted Ethel to come and to sit alone at a table dressed in the finest gown she could create but the festival held little joy for her. She had no family and it was something she regretted now as she watched everybody else in their groups. People were polite when they saw her but this was in deference to her reputation.

There were no personal connections left in her life here. No challenges. The younger generation were still chasing positions of power and partners but that was over for her now. She turned her attention to the master of ceremonies, Julian Corda, the head of the men in black was playing the role and was doing it well. Ethel listened without interest. She had heard it all before. She had written much of the ideology he was describing but it didn't seem to be important. Julian gave a good impression of being a true believer, it was probably necessary for the chief of secret police to appear passionate regarding the people he was sworn to protect.