Opus Veda

The locals strutted into the estate. Their formerly aloof neighbours leaked from crevices to film them. Jason and Sermon peacocked for the cameras with tales of victory, as the parents of each child were tracked down.

Kasia took Joey to his mother. Misha, emaciated on crutches, saw her son and cried out, almost falling over him in her rush. She pinched and prodded his face, laughing through tears when she found him unscathed. They embraced, the crowd cooed, Misha's mother stood back with her phone recording.

Kasia stepped aside. The cricket bat dangled in her throbbing hand. She saw Eva and hung her head, but Eva hugged her too. Kasia dropped the bat and breathed deeply, squeezing her daughter and forgetting the world around her.

Someone called her name. She didn't recognise the voice - felt annoyed by the interruption - but realised it was Misha and stood up. Her fellow single mother cupped her hands in her own.

"Thanks so much… Sermon told me what you did for my son. I just… thanks."

They pulled their hands away. Not knowing what to do, seeing Misha tense, Kasia mumbled about Sermon helping anyway and shrugged. Misha gave her a pursed smile and left her be.

Kasia wasn't free yet. A hand gripped her elbow and twisted her round. Imany, with a sympathetic but authoritative face. She coaxed Kasia away, but before they could leave, Sermon called out.

"That's her! That's her! She goes at one o' them cunts with my cricket bat - 'ere Kash what you done with my bat!?" he found it on the floor and lifted it high, "she goes up to one o' them with my cricket bat, and: blaow! Then she gets between the kids and them pikeys while your boy Sermon mopped up the stragglers… Kash! My sister! You're the MVP ain't ya!"

Everyone applauded. Kasia blushed and waved them off, uncomfortable in the spotlight even when earned. She used Imany to her advantage and ducked away.

A gaudy SUV rumbled by the estate entrance. Its uniformed driver rushed out and demanded to see the girls, who he found giggling as Chanel doted on them. The driver looked the woman over, saw her bloodied knuckles, smelt the rank cigarettes. From inside the car, startled parents scanned the block and shouted for their girls to get in. The driver ushered them in and sped off.

Imany's flat was bigger than the Szymanskas, with a back bedroom housing her washing machine.

The front room was a museum of gig posters, art stickers, and eccentric instruments on a fake mantelpiece. In one nook Imany had arranged a Taoist shrine. On it hung yellow talismans and bowls of rice and water. Incense sticks stuck from the shrine's centrepiece: a bronze bowl marked by turquoise lines of ageing.

Kasia sat on the wicker stool and watched the floor. Imany stood over her, arms crossed.

"I pushed too hard to help Kasia, so I'm sorry. One day you'll learn you can't do it alone but I get it. It's good you ain't a scrounger. My door's open, but I won't send you through it, alright?"

Kasia nodded and eased.

"You pulled a sickie to join a Red attack. You throwin' in? 'Rule Britannia' and all that?"

"I dunno… should I?"

"I'd be thinkin' whether I could juggle that, a kid, and a career. You were after a promotion five minutes ago now you wanna be a soldier too?"

"I'll walk through that door of yours then. Do I have a chance in a call centre?"

Imany looked away and sighed, "no. But that doesn't make the revolution the answer."

"Wouldn't you have joined at my age? You were more of a fighter than me."

"I woulda been a Viji, hidin' my rage and fear behind a mask," Imany snorted and tapped on her phone, "especially once my husband died. But I knew after all I could only do small things."

She rested her phone on Kasia's lap. It showed a photo of her and Rhys, with wild dreadlocks and anarchistic costumes. Two guerrillas fighting race riots, fascist liars, and their corporate mates. Imany looked younger than Kasia, with smokey upturned eyes free of weariness. Kasia found her beautiful, and felt pity for where she had ended up.

"He was a romantic," said Imany, "they were so rare even then. I'd just watched my mum die of cancer, we had no money for healthcare... With nowhere to go and a mum to do proud I chased my dreams at uni. A lifetime of debt, but somewhere I could live for a few years and do music. Along came Rhys! Tagging along with my band, doin' nothin' to help. 'I'll be your roadie!' he said, 'I'll carry you all the way up'."

She chuckled and gazed through the bricks where a window once was.

"He was bloody useless but he still saved me. We fell in love but I expected nothin' else. Marriage had gone out of fashion so what was the point? He flicks an engagement ring at me that I swear is made of tin, and goes 'if it has no reason any more then there's all the reason to do it, love and logic ain't the in same key izzit Imi!?'."

"He sounded great..." Kasia offered a smile, "where on earth did those guys go?"

Imany took her phone back back.

"He loved the fight just as much. Squatted offices and yachts, beat Nazis up outside mosques. He starts gettin' threats... One day, they plant dark stuff on his account, take him to court for misusin' their platforms. He didn't stand a chance... First night in a cell, guards fall asleep, cameras stop workin', and there you have it: suicides..."

She buried herself behind her hand. Kasia struggled to find any words to offer.

"Well… maybe this revolution will help out after all! Against the tech giants and stuff like that."

Imany scoffed and perched on her bed.

"Look outside, you reckon all that will go away? Three kids may have been raped. Your mates are farmin' it for engagement," she made an extravagant gesture with her hands, "tech giants may not have a name any more but they're still there, makin' slaves outta us here below."

Kasia said nothing, guilty for her itch to see whatever attention was queuing on her profile. Imany saw her agitation, but chose to ignore it.

"Rhys and I only had each other to lose. Once they took him I learnt had no power. They made us the enemy and everyone follows the rich man's truth. So I make this my home. I've supported more people than just you girl. Troublemakers set on straighter paths. And that's how I fight back."

She pulled herself up and reached under her sink.

"If you join the Reds it will lead to you death or worse. But since you insist on findin' your own way, you need to defend yourself better."

Kasia took the sheathed blade from her hand and gasped.

"Kurwa… isn't this illegal?"

"It's called a tanto. Take it out and look at it."

She pulled the blade free. The whole knife was a foot long, the handle wrapped in crosshatched beige fabric. The blade itself was black and silver, divided by a wavy line. Imany pinched her chin and studied how Kasia held it.

"It's sharp enough to split an atom so be careful with it. And respectful. I will not have my tanto used to chop veg or self-harm, it's a classic object of beauty made for war."

Kasia imagined it slicing flesh and shivered, but it fit her hand well as she drew circles. She glowed at the idea of possessing it.

Imany motioned to its boxy wooden sheath.

"I filed the lacquer off so it stands out less, and the inside I foil lined so if po-po scanned me they wouldn't catch it," she slid the sheath onto the knife and clutched it, "this is a last resort, to defend yourself and your daughter, without needin' to ask for help so much."

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Kasia lowered her head in thanks. Imany opened the door.

"If you do go Red watch who you tell. When they start losin' their rivals will write the story, and you'll be public enemy."

"I'll be careful," Kasia hid the knife under her hoodie and stood up, "I'm sorry for shouting at you Imany."

"People matter more than ideologies girl."

Kasia left, unsure if that was true.

She propped against her kitchen counter, able to process the day at last. Jason had handed beers out. She had one in her hand, a vice she rarely enjoyed. She went to post it online - the victor celebrating with a rare glimpse of her world offline.

Imany's scorn prevented her. She deleted the post and hid her phone under her pillow, right beside her new knife.

Her body began complaining. Her hands were numb, ears ringing from gunfire. Pain stabbed her shins and ankles like ice picks. She tried recalling the event but so much was blurred. She had seen fights before, dead bodies too, but nothing like this. That it took place offline made it more fantastic; less real. A snapshot of another universe. Her actions, and the attention it won, felt foreign. Righteousness swelled in her.

Work tomorrow. The idea was unbearable. She imagined hinting at Leah whilst leaving her hanging for more. But what about Ollie? If he didn't see the inevitable news an aspiring colleague would betray her anyway. And yet… her fear was no longer about her sickie. Now her fear was her job carrying on a second longer.

At last she thought of the captain. How he made the effort to remember her name, how sincerely he was impressed by her. He'd given her an opportunity for more; a shortcut to a higher rung on the ladder. Was his cause so bad? Kasia thought of where she could end up and it did dampen her rising zeal. Even she was wise enough to know reunification meant blood and death for many.

Eva burst indoors, startling her.

"What you daydreamin' about? Why ain't you on your phone!?"

"Don't need that now I'm a war hero ain't I!"

"None of that matters now!" Eva tutted and shoved her phone in Kasia's face, "Look! You've gone viral!"

Kasia electrified. A thousand brilliant outcomes struck at once. She rushed for her phone, and when she saw the engagement tsunami overrunning her profile she bounced around her flat in a fit. Eva joined in with as much fervour, plotting and scheming all the ways Kasia could go big, until exhaustion took them both.

The girls spent the evening together. Eva practised musical numbers and Kasia made atrocious attempts to join in. They ordered a kebab takeaway - the first food Kasia had seen all day - and devoured it. Every minute she watched the videos of her surfacing with Joey. The frame of her hand in the captain's left her intoxicated.

By midnight they sat on the lower bunk, backs against the cold wall, sharing a hot chocolate.

"Will you tell me who you stayed with last night?"

"Katy from branding class," said Eva, "I always go back to hers on a Wednesday."

"Katy…" Kasia recalled the hapless, chubby Han girl with relief, "Kai Ti, wasn't it?"

"Mama you said that joke before and it wasn't funny then…"

Kasia laughed at herself and asked to see their exploits. Eva brought up a sequence of rapid fire videos she and her schoolmate had made, jumping on the latest trends, memes, and dares. Kasia tried ignoring the comments underneath each videos, reminding herself she'd had to swat them away too. At least Eva and her friend had been mature enough to cover their faces with filters.

A new trend came up. Kasia squinted.

"What's the Princess Di?"

"It's this flirty smile! You do it to show someone you're interested, like this," Eva looked down, cast a sidelong glance, and smirked. Kasia creased up and snickered. Eva flapped at her in protest.

"Hey fuck you mama it works!"

"Let me try kurwa!" Kasia copied the move and made it look terrible, crossing her eyes and doing a crude impression of a disabled person. Eva fell sideways laughing and tried in vain to video her.

The door knocked. A hoarse voice called through the letterbox.

"Uh… I got a delivery here for a Miss… Bitchia Bitchmanska?"

"Uncle Serms!" Eva leapt off the bed. Kasia pointed her phone at the door to let him in.

"Nice of you to knock this time. What happened to your voice?"

"I-"

"Been suckin' too much dick ain't ya Uncle Serms!?" Eva hopped about in front of him to get his attention.

"Eva!" Sermon fist bumped her, "nah love! Just celebratin' too hard out there! We haven't caught up in ages girl what you up to?"

"Do your thing Evie!" said Kasia, "she's practising her flirting game."

Sermon lifted his thumb up to his chin and looked her over, "'gwarn den let's see it."

Eva did the move. Sermon inhaled through his nose and shook his head.

"Pretty good… but what you really wanna do is like this look," he threw his hand against the wall, craned his neck around and bit his knuckle. Eva cackled manically.

"Where'd you learn that!?"

"Used to be a famous pornstar, didn't I! The boys all called me the Tower of London."

"Well I 'aven't seen you in anythin'…" she flashed him a cheeky grin and got a boisterous growl back, but then Sermon calmed her down. He needed to borrow her mother for a talk outside.

Kendi Estate's roof was a place for serious talks. The flat concrete surface had been tipped with broken furniture and rotten mattresses. A circle of wobbling camp chairs rusted by a barbecue brimming with rain water. From the outside edge other estates could be seen, all tied by the same jungle of wires and pipes. London's skyscrapers lit the sky with ads, some readable from Kendi. That the ad screens couldn't manage facial recognition from such a distance was a voyeuristic pleasure.

The landlord banned access to the roof, but Sermon often hopped onto it for a ponder and a smoke. Kasia sometimes joined, if only to ponder.

"Prettier by the day ain't she?" said Sermon, "gonna have a right time keepin' the lads off her."

"If only she was squat and angry like you hey?"

Kasia grit her teeth but Sermon didn't notice. He chuckled and admired the vista of towers above.

"You thought about the offer then?"

"I guess you're going ahead?"

"I will yea. Can I give you a shout out too?"

Kasia rubbed her hands down her face. She understood what she was about to do was wrong - trauma dumps were a serious social blunder - but her confidence was up and now seemed right.

She pulled her left sleeve up and pointed at one of the pale lines serrating her skin.

"This was the first one. I was 11. My mum was screaming at me - about what I can't remember. I locked myself in the shower holding a kitchen knife in case she broke through the door. But with nothing else to do I just… turned it on myself I guess."

Sermon tutted and dragged from his vape, letting her continue. Kasia listed every cut she could remember; the ones after each pregnancy, the one after the police abandoned her, and those for when Eva first had to wash with cold water, and when Kasia found cockroaches nesting in Eva's bed.

And when her card had finally been declined at the supermarket, and she'd needed to live off dry cereal without even the cash for milk. And when she had bought milk but the tab broke and she couldn't open it. The hookups where her matches had used force, or ignored the rules they had agreed on, or when she hadn't found someone she liked but, desperate to connect, had chosen regret over loneliness.

Whatever she couldn't control in life, she could take out on her flesh. The release that washed over her after each cut reminded her of why she did it.

As she could inflict it on herself, all other pains were optional.

Sermon's eyes were vacant by the time she finished. He had nothing to say and she didn't expect him to. She sleeved her arm.

"I don't want this life anymore Sermon. You know I don't! I wish I could sleep without hearing my child's teeth chatter. I wish I could afford to stand up to my boss and get better treatment, I… what the hell can I offer the revolution?"

"Sista!" Sermon raised his arm to hold her shoulder, but held back and let it hover, "if we play this right you'll never 'ave to do anything like that again! Don't spend the rest of your life in a call centre! Be a part of something bigger and get more back! I swear, you'll never do your arm like that again."

"It's too good to be true Sermon... It always is."

Sermon looked over her head, and staggered backwards.

"Run."

She turned and saw it: a drone the size of her palm, hovering a meter from her head. Two figures lurched from the stairs, their faces obscured by brimmed hats and shades; their bodies shrouded by the fog billowing from their vapes.

The detectives drew their tasers - silver guns humming with rising energy. They picked their target and let the volts fly.

* * *

They passed a well-aged Glendronach around the table, filling their tumblers with amber liquid. Captain Varma watched with satisfaction as his soldiers debated. Young Luca Rossi, promoted to corporal for his actions against the Goldsmiths, was drunk with success and equally led astray by the whisky in his hands.

"Our priority should be Opus Veda!" the overconfident corporal stabbed a finger down, "they only look weak because they want to. If we exhaust ourselves on the Govs they'll rush us the day after."

"We'd have the former territories to worry about and all," said a calmer soldier, "Veda wouldn't say no to their support."

"The British territories which we continue not to mention," Varma banged his tumbler down, "the calmer they are, the more likely we are to get firearms over the border. The key to victory."

"But China Sir," Pierce, the old sergeant major, spoke up with caution, "they'd never let such a supply lien exist and if you ask me, brass ought to be worrying a bit more about that."

"If we strike fast enough China won't have time to respond," said Varma, "if they intervene. They don't care who rules England as long as they get tribute."

"Which I'm sure we intend to pay Sir?" Pierce raised his brow. The captain lifted his tumbler to the Xīn Hán. Everyone laughed and toasted the Emperor. None drank.

"I'm with young Rossi," Pardo, Varma's bony-faced staff lieutenant, gestured to the corporal, "the government's too weak to challenge us. They'll sit back if we concentrate on the Blacks, and all public support goes to us."

"This is it," said Varma, "it's about public support. No point taking over parliament to face insurrection the day after. But don't assume beating the terrorists will be enough to win the public's heart."

He refilled his tumbler and raised it.

"Our job now is to stay out trouble. And we will be online on Monday. The Generals making a speech, and from what I've been told, it will change everything."

Everyone cheered their leader, toasting and downing their cups. Pierce began to sing 'God Save the King'. The revolutionaries joined him.