Democracy is Dead

Chapter Sixteen

Dyo was pleased that his trainers didn't slip on the frost beneath his feet; he wold be lost if he had to stop his Saturday morning run. More mornings than he could count, it had been the only reason he'd dragged himself out of bed at all, allowing the New London air to clear his mind and keep him sane. It was the only way he could process the world around him. The rhythm, the regularity, of keeping a steady pace helped him to focus his thoughts; the tunnel vision of the path in front of him blocked the rest of the park from view and his problems along with it. He relished the feel of the frozen air hitting his cheeks and the burn in his muscles. Every time he exhaled, a mist of water vapour escaped from his mouth, transforming his body into an old fashioned factory furnace; a relic of a world before this one, before un-renewable energy sources were banned in a unanimous world vote and cars came to a permanent stop.

Running was one of the only activities which made him appreciate his feed-glasses. As much as he used his run as a chance to think, he liked the speedometer blinking at him in the bottom left corner and the tiny heart rate monitor in the top right. The world around him took on a green, orange or red haze, depending on whether he was working effectively or not, and pop-punk music from a century before vibrated through his skull via the frames. All of that information without having to take his eyes off the path.

As he turned a corner, he switched songs and slowed his pace; he was nearly finished. Home was looming before him, but he wasn't in any rush to get there yet. He'd only gone a few more metres when his glasses bleeped at him, alerting him to a new message. Dyo sighed, instantly lamenting his former praise of the glasses, which didn't allow him to become un-contactable while he was wearing them. The message was from Bree and was marked urgent, so he turned the run program off and sat on a nearby bench to read it.

Target schedule located. It has to be this evening. I have already booked you a table; all you need to do is show up. Do not mess this up, Dyo. Love Bree.

Along with the message she sent a map and detailed itinerary.

Dyo shook his head. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes this time. It wouldn't look good after last week's failure and he couldn't risk being cut out of important group decisions. No, this task would have to be completed flawlessly. It was too important to get wrong.

He was going to need a cover though; he would attract too much attention if he sat in one of the fanciest restaurants in New London alone. Sephy and Orion were having dinner at her aunt's that evening, a monthly event which Sephy couldn't miss if she wanted her aunt to keep supporting her financially. Asking Bree for a hand would mean having her scrutinise his every move, so she wasn't an option either. Ismene would probably come, but there was a pair of grey eyes Dyo still couldn't get out of his head, and this might be the perfect excuse to see them again.

Sighing, Dyo got back to his feet and restarted the run program. He only had a couple of hours to get everything ready, so he was going to have to stop avoiding his father and hurry home to change.