Opus Veda

Wednesday arrived. The surviving section members met at Andrez's safehouse, reconnecting after days spent hiding.

The B-team sat in the lounge.

Already they were fighting.

"We see this one decade after another Scarlett it doesn't matter if other groups have it worse than straight men; insisting straight men are all villains pushes them towards extremist parties. Your lofty principles about male privilege won't mean shit when they vote a radical government back in."

"'Uhhhh I'm a straight white man. Men are in crisis. We have things easier than everyone else in every way except dating and that makes our lot worse. Why do people make it hard for us. We're going to talk about our rights while humiliating any man we consider inferior, without actually building a community. Men'."

Mike flung his arms akimbo and affected Scarlett's voice.

"'I'm a conventionally attractive woman. People have been nice to me my whole life within seconds of meeting me. It must be because I'm an interesting and decent person. I have to deal with anxiety in an otherwise comfortable life, and my worst memory is someone in uni who ghosted me. Since I know I'm a standard-issue cosseted princess I'll find a different minority to mine and get angry on their behalf'."

"Own up to your desires for once Mike you love women like that."

"I've put up with too much bullshit from them to give them another chance..."

"Fuck you masturbate too much."

"I-"

"I can just see you failing at auto-fellatio and having to call an ambulance-"

"At some point this year you're gonna catch gonorrhoea from a hookup, pass it on to Gemma, and try to convince her she caught it off one of hers."

Scarlett huffed and appealed to Luis, "will you please do something about this!?"

Luis reclined back on the armchair and drew from his vape.

He let off a deep, tired sigh.

"I miss Tanya and Kristoff."

Andrez watched from across the room, wearing an impatient smile and swishing wine in his glass. He wasn't ready to join them. Maqbool returned from the bathroom and dragged his injured frame beside his boss. He listened to their support group's bickering and frowned.

"Even Zilong and I never rowed like this. These guys are bloody hopeless."

"As if my grief wasn't heavy enough I must find new members for our section too. I worry about them seeing our team behave like this."

Maqbool snickered, "any word from Kasia?"

"No. She may still come through. She has a decision to make first."

Luis called from the lounge.

"A-team sort this out look please don't leave me on my own here. They're talking about bringing back the culture war now…"

Maqbool lumbered off to the rescue. Andrez stayed back. He had things to ponder; emotions to reflect on. The doubt inside him could have a hundred sources but one was right in front of him, wedged between Luis and Michael, trying to tease the latter and fooling neither.

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Luis had always argued Scarlett mattered. That she had her uses. Andrez failed to agree. It wasn't she who was the asset but her relationship. Scarlett herself - a reckless, arrogant risk taker, who knew her allure well and hid her nihilism poorly - remained the section's weak link. In a perfect world her wife would have joined instead. In a perfect world, Esmé would have been here in Scarlett's place.

He checked his phone. Nothing from Kasia. A shame, but now she had a chance for a better future. It seemed she knew, that future was away from this life. And she had given Opus Veda enough.

Andrez smirked to himself, peacefully wistful, and joined his friends.

* * *

Kasia traversed frosty roads and found what she needed to see. She covered her face with her scarf and lowered her coat's hood to shroud her eyes.

The orphanage was in, of all places, Kensington. It looked middle class, dull, and safe. In its gated front garden children played in the snow. Every one of them looked happy. They chased and wrestled. Support workers packed snowballs together for them to throw.

Amongst them Kasia saw her daughter. Eva was crouching by the steps with a worker. They were cuddling Yorkie. Other children crowded around and waited for their turn to hold him. Kasia giggled to herself. After everything that had gone wrong in 2089, the rabbit had managed to survive.

Kasia breathed with relief. Eva looked content, and her life today was better than it ever had been.

As was Kasia's. In her possession was enough money to start again several times over. The constant noise of 'what ifs' in her mind had gone. Certainty lay ahead. Security. She could afford to say no to bad things, bad people. And if bad people came she had two blades to answer them - one named Imany, the other Esmé. She was well trained and prepared to use them.

Imany was with her too, a slim silver urn in her backpack. Amongst Kasia's immediate plans were sending the ashes to be spread in Trinidad - Imany's true home. Perhaps she could spread Imany's story too, so her family there, if they existed, could know the woman Kasia knew. The idea put her at ease.

Kasia's family was a short walk away. She could walk over there now and delete the past months forever.

She inhaled and clutched her heart. The choice was not clear. One path meant meeting her daughter and repairing their relationship - if Eva wanted it. This time Kasia would do better, but to what end? Back to a working class life of broken romances and exploitative employers. Kasia wished she could pick who adopted Eva - be certain their home was better than any she could provide. It was a luxury she didn't have.

There was one other path. It offered belonging. Something that existed nowhere elsewhere, where Kasia could fight society in ways she otherwise never could. This path gave her purpose; gave recognition to her strengths, her vulnerabilities. She would wear a mask, and never be invisible again.

A part of her remained sceptical all the same. No matter how nice they were to her, stories of the terrorists darker deeds refused to go away, as did the heavy truth of those she lost. Two of her friends - Sermon, Luca - had been killed by her leader. The woman she had developed feelings for died following him. Andrez offered Kasia a life of meaning. Kasia's street smart life kept her wise to the truth: the struggle was still on; the end, out of reach.

She breathed and took a step towards Eva, rehearsing apologies and explanations. She remembered Eva's birthday - the man who claimed her body and still roamed free. Kasia swatted the thought away. It was different now. If it happened again, Kasia could deal with it.

Another step taken. Kasia remembered how she neglected Eva from that day. Her own mother had given her trauma of a worse kind, but neglect was still abuse. On too many occasions Kasia had passed the trauma down to Eva. If Eva didn't escape the issue during adolescence, she never would. Kasia could defend her physically, kill for her, die for her. She couldn't save Eva from past.

Belonging, or family.

The promise of risk, or the uncertainty of a fresh start.

To abuse a nation, or risk abusing one girl.

To turn into Imany, or her mother.

Opus Veda, or Eva.

Doing the wrong thing for selfish reasons, or the right thing for moral reasons.

The wrong thing endangered her, the right thing endangered Eva.

It wasn't fair to make Eva grieve.

But why wasn't she grieving?

Andrez killed Sermon.

But why didn't Sermon surrender?

Kasia remembered her mother hitting her.

She remembered Andrez picking her up.

She thought of how Riese Elektronik exploited her for years.

How Revolution Britannia blackmailed her into prostitution within months.

And how it took a week for Opus Veda to give her a home and family.

Her mind filtered out any bad memory of them.

And any good memory of the rest.

They recognised her.

They gave her something to love.

And something to hurt.

And she was good at it.

Desire pulled her to them. Reason pulled her to Eva. Support workers were ushering the children indoors. The garden was clearing; a snowy white lawn covered in little footprints. Eva climbed the steps. She was almost inside. Going to get her was the right thing to do.

Kasia admitted it was so, and walked away. The path of purpose and belonging was one she could no longer live with out. For all society had done, that this path involved terrorism was all the same to her.

Society should have given her a better choice.