Gray
An excerpt from Scar City, my take on A Brave New World where the roles are reversed.
STORY
Gray.
Everywhere.
Luka reached for Ophelia’s arm and pulled her inside the shadow of the cave, “They’ll see you.” He placed his free hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming and making any other sounds. She winced and nodded as the two stepped backwards into the shadows.
The drone flew overhead with a scanner surveying the land. Its gray body and blades made it nearly invisible against an overcast sky. It hovered over a small brush with reddish brown leaves and released a light mist of spray that hissed like a snake and drifted down to change the color, just as it had done to the others–all gray–everywhere. The smell of the paint residue caused the remaining wildlife to scatter from its pungent ammonia and skunk blend.
The two poked their heads out until a little bit of the fading sunlight cast a glow upon their faces. Ophelia tucked loose strands of her black hair into the covering of the gray hoodie, though it couldn’t hide her hazel eyes, but that was permissible for those born without the resequencing shot. Luka pulled his long sleeve down to his wrist, covering the colorful artwork that consisted of vibrant red, yellow, green and blue gathered from plants that the drones couldn’t reach. His light blonde hair decorated in swirls of the same colors, now concealed by his gray hoodie.
The non-sequenced–or Nonnies as they were called, were the last of their kind–last of the dreamers, lovers, thinkers and the curious who persisted with questions. They were an aberration of the new reformation–the one after the first apocalypse of 2032.
The new inhabitants of the reformation were gray in all areas that could be genetically and cosmetically modified. They were the selectively bred inheritors of a new world with hopes to avoid the follies of their predecessors.
***
Copernicus stood in front of the large window in the lone tower overlooking a city that still smoldered from post-war fallout. Black swaths of smoke contrasted the grey rubble. To his right was an encampment, the third of its kind, where the sequenced (Seeqers) toiled at their respective tasks.
“Are you pleased, Copernicus? Production is steady and all are in compliance,” said a feeble gray-haired man. “The Seeqers are performing as expected, some even better,” he continued.
Copernicus, hands clasped behind his back turned to the man and looked down to meet his eyes, “New America has been quiet since the enforcement of Nonnie containment zones. This level of perfection has me uneasy with the sense that the Nonnies are up to something.”
“I don’t understand. There aren’t many left to be a threat to your new world. Shall we send in the drones and eradicate the rest?” He wrung his hands in anticipation.
“Not yet. They’re scattered too far apart to waste our limited resources. Instead, we wait, we watch until they make their move. They won’t come in small groups—they know they don’t stand a chance. No, we wait until they come at us with what remains of their combined yet dwindling forces—then we crush them and continue our expansion.”
***
Luka and Ophelia emerged from the cave as the drone’s silhouette grew smaller and its buzzing blades could no longer be heard. The pair made their way along a riverbank, occasionally stumbling from the oversized gray shoes and pants the elders had confiscated from fallen Seeqer soldiers.
Dwindling supplies necessitated small bands of rebels to acquire medicinal compounds but the recent change in physiology of the sequenced meant that they were no longer susceptible to Nonnie ailments, which meant supplies were scarce and the excursions became riskier the farther the party had to venture into the protected area.
They arrived at a clearing and observed a few deer in a pasture. The brown and white of their fur was a pleasant contrast to the natural greenery that remained out of the drones’ range. If one had made it out this far, their nozzles would be clogged from the concoction they were tasked to spray.
A doe with large black eyes caught sight of Ophelia and stood at attention, with only the occasional twitch of its tail. Another doe came around and did the same.
Luka stood behind her and gently tapped her on the shoulder, “Be as still as you can and they might come closer.”
Ophelia gave a slight nod and a muffled “mmm hmm.”
The animals ears twitched and they tightened their haunches. With a blink of an eye, they began to run away from the Luka and Ophelia. The two looked at each other to see who was to blame for causing the deer to scamper away.
They heard a familiar buzz and a drone appeared behind them as it rose into the sky from the horizon. The two looked back and then at each other. “Run!” Luka shouted. They took off as fast as they could; if only their feet fit the shoes instead of tripping them up, they would have gotten away.
The drone whooshed over them and soon was directly in front of them, scanning their gray covered bodies. They stood there, panting, hands on their knees, trying to catch their breath. The scanner warbled as the beam scanned from twice from top to bottom. Luka stood upright and saluted the drone, while tugging Ophelias’ sleeve so she’d do the same.
The drone came close, then closer, fixated on Luka’s right arm. Luka followed the path of the beam and saw that his sleeve had rolled up while running and the bright red tail of a fox was peeking out from his right sweatshirt cuff.
Ophelia noticed too. “Luka, do something,” she murmured through her clenched teeth.
Luka stood as still has he could and with a single motion jerked his arm down, causing the sleeve to lower and cover his arm once more.
The beam from the drone disappeared and it beep-bopped twice as its blades spun faster and lifted it into the sky to continue its patrol.
“So glad these outfits worked,” said Luka, exhaling as he gave his heart a moment to slow down and stop pounding against his ribs. He held his ribs for a while before checking on Ophelia, “You okay?”
She nodded with watery eyes while remaining careful not to let teardrops fall.
***
Copernicus walked the long corridors with authority as his many assistants took notes on which tasks he delegated to whom. They would disappear as fast as others would reappear.
“Sir do you feel that perhaps you are doing too much? You should take time…”
“Time, Julius? Every moment that we delay rebuilding our society from the ashes, we remain beholden to those who would disrupt our quest for a perfect society. I will eradicate the Nonnies when an opportunity presents itself. We will not capitulate to their demands the way generations of our forefathers had done. Nonnies are nearly extinct and we will not let them infect our Seeqers with their mediocrity, apathy, and individualized contamination.”
“Yes, of course, Copernicus. I should have known better than to concern myself with your wellbeing.” Julius slowed as the two rounded the corridor. Julius waved his hand across a muted white beam of lasers that crisscrossed the entrance. His open palm lingered while the beam bounced off his ring and onto a panel with a small hole. Once the light entered, the beams disengaged long enough for them to pass through, allowing them secure passage.
A roomful of fourteen counselors gave Copernicus a nod of affirmation. He acknowledged them with a terse nod, then launched into the meeting. “Council, status report.”
Moving clockwise starting from his left, the first counselor spoke, “Sector one has reached 92% compliance. The water filtration system is working well in its second week; I have brought the blueprints to be distributed to all council members so their sectors can have clean water as well.”
Copernicus nodded his head and each counselor continued down the line until they reached sector 5. The council member hesitated, “Sector 5 quelled an uprising attempt. Our medical supplies are exhausted; thankfully we’ve had no need for them since everyone in the encampment is confirmed Seeqers.”
The council report from sector eight caused murmurs amongst the attendees, “Sir, rumors have it that the Nonnies have a wave of SARS-BaV2. Drones have spotted mass burial grounds. It is estimated that Sector 8’s death toll is high.”
Copernicus raised an eyebrow, “Very good. I want the color removed from the burial site. Send the paint drone, lest the rebel Nonnie survivors get any ideas.”
***
Luka and Ophelia had made their way to a chained area. Ophelia had led the way, taking handful of dirt and tossing it in the air ahead of them to check for any sensors, while Luka stomped the fresh dirt behind to avoid a trail of color. Ophelia pressed her cheek to the rough cold fence and saw one guard at a post in front of the area they needed to get to. She used two fingers and a motion of the hand to signal Luka to the security gate and remain hidden until she signaled it was clear.
Luka crouched and took short heel-toe movements, remaining as quiet as possible. Ophelia headed in the opposite direction, where she was able to army crawl under a section of damaged fencing. Once she was in the compound, she made her way to a building and stood with her back against the wall, adjusting the string on the hoodie and remaining along the shadowed eaves.
There were an abnormal amount of Seeqers out and about with their colorless garments and physical bodies covered in gray from top to bottom. Two of them were having a conversation nearby that Ophelia eavesdropped on. Their conversation was devoid of emotion or original thought. It was as if they were speaking from a technical manual—it sounded cold and clinical.
Ophelia looked for any signs on whether they were scientists or doctors of sorts. The Nonnies did not speak like them. The Nonnies would listen, pause to ponder, and consider many responses before allowing sounds to leave their mouths. Seeqers spoke in a rhythmic manner, like a tennis ball being hit from one racquet to the next. Their outfits revealed no clue about their profession. She only knew that hearing them speak was disturbing enough for her to move to another location.
She had managed to get closer to the entrance by moving past three buildings without anyone acknowledging or suspecting a thing. She did her best to avoid eye contact by shifting her attention as if she was looking for someone in the crowd. This gave her the cover of making eye contact while having permission to not engage in conversation if she was perceived to be searching for someone.
She could see the security gate. The guard standing still, only moving his head left and right. Ophelia felt that it may have been a revised android, a remnant of the final war. She approached with caution, including herself in a group of Seeqers where were passing through the checkpoint. Her task was to get into the supply room; grab a handful of anything she could find and quickly make her way out of the compound from the way she came while Luka causes a distraction.
Seeqers moved quickly with them being the product of resequencing. They could converge on a position within seconds with their running speed. They were physical specimens in this level of human evolution. Ophelia knew this. That’s why she shifted her weight onto her tiptoes and made her way into the building and headed straight to the supply location.
***
Luka remained concealed within a gray shrub, watching the gate and the mechanized guard who swiveled his head from one end of the compound to the other like clockwork. He yawned, suppressing any noise that would normally come out. He also kept an eye out towards the checkpoint that Ophelia would be at once she secured the supplies.
To his left was a group of Seeqers that moved like they were operating by the instructions of a microcomputer. Luka knew that was impossible because the Apocalypse had wiped out circuitry and knowledge had vanished along with the digitized codes and the experts who curated them. He reached into his pocket and gripped the small explosive device, checking the fuse as he waited for Ophelia’s signal.
***
Ophelia adjusted her hoodie and pulled her sleeves past her wrist until her fingertips were concealed. She paced herself to move with the crowd because her adrenaline would have made her walk very fast if she didn’t. The Seeqers moved in a flow where one group can walk east to west while another walk north to south and they’d cross paths without a risk of running into one another–it was an uncanny synchronicity that was likely pushed upon them as a lesson on uniformity and discipline. She had heard stories from the elders about this.
She arrived at the entrance of the building. She entered by blending in with a large group of Seeqers that wouldn’t notice when she’d joined or left. The Seeqers crossed paths in a tight, uncanny synchronicity that allowed different groups to pass through each other without collision, a result of their relentless conditioning in uniformity. Ophelia abandoned them as soon as they were near the supply room, by sidestepping into hallway, and turning a corner with the supply room ahead of her.
The room was empty with good reason, since the Seeqers were free from known ailments. She retrieved a small pouch from her waist pocket and turned handle on some of the cabinets, ones she knew to contain remedies from her previous stealth visits. Some of the pill containers rattled and the syrups sloshed while tiny packets crinkled from stale packaging. With her pouch full, Ophelia made her way out.
***
Luka’s neck began to cramp from the positioning of his body facing the guard while having to crane his head to the checkpoint. His palms were getting sweaty, it seemed like Ophelia was taking longer than usual to reach the checkpoint. He was slowly shifting his feet so they wouldn’t go to sleep while he was hunched over inside the brush. It seemed like minutes, but a gray figure the size of Ophelia flashed a hand signal and Luka was ready to leap out of the brush and cause a distraction, until he saw Ophelia was not alone.
***
After flashing Luka their signal, Ophelia took a few steps towards the exit when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
It was a Seeqer. But how? She wondered. Was it the rattle of the pills or the crinkle of the wrapper. Maybe her odd gait with shoes too large for her to be assigned, She had to think fast. If she ran, they’d swarm.
Ophelia closed her eyes and turned around. “Yes?” she asked.
“The area is restricted. Are you authorized…”
“Are you authorized?” she interrupted.
The Seeqer paused for a moment, as if caught off guard by the sudden retort, unable to finish its own automatic script.
“No,” the Seeqer responded.
Ophelia parroted the initial phase, “This area is restricted. Are you authorized to be here?”
Silent rumination.
“Then move along.” she commanded.
The Seeqer let go of her shoulder, turned around and walked away, unsure why..
Ophelia leaned with her back against the fence and took a deep breath. “That was close.” She adjusted her sweatshirt and tied her shoelaces tighter. As she turned to head towards the exit, two Seeqers were approaching with large strides.
She had to run now.
As she turned to plant her foot, she had arms wrapped around her and her legs began to flail as she was lifted off the ground, her arms pinned at her sides in a bear hug from behind. Ophelia wiggled her body like a fish caught on a hook, to no avail. She shouted, “Luka.” as the Seeqer squeezed tight enough to limit her inhalation. Her vision was turning narrow and black.
***
Luka shot out of the foliage like a lizard changing its hiding place. He ran past obtrusive branches that bounced off his forearm as he covered his face. He hopped and leaped over various sizes of rocks as he made his way to the fence where the two Seeqers held Ophelia.
“Hey, Hey You!” Luka shouted at them as he tugged at the fence. He shook it back and forth hoping to cause it to fail in some way, but it was too late the Seeqers were converging, seemingly in multiples of five, all droning with low frequency drawl. “Buhh.”
Ophelia screamed once more, kicking in any direction, hoping to land her foot on anything.
Nothing landed, she started fading from the exertion.
Close to thirty Seeqers were closing in on the inside of the fence and another twenty were surrounding Luka on the outside. He kept shaking the fence, his sweatshirt sleeves billowing and his hoodie strings slapping against his body.
“Let her go, you lab rats!” He screamed just as he was lifted off the ground with a Seeqer’s arms wrapped around his ribs.
With his arms still free, he began to ram his elbows backwards onto his captor’s body. The motions caused his loose sleeves to ride up and his hoodie to slide off of his head. At that moment, everything stopped.
Ophelia and Luka were dropped to the ground as the Seeqers recoiled in horror. Their gray eyes fixated on the colors in his hair and arms
She tossed the pouch over the fence and climbed. Luka backed into the fence, letting her feet rest on his shoulders.
“Run!” she shouted.
🎧 Companion Audio: Themes & Hidden Threads
This story is fully human‑written. The audio below is an optional AI‑generated commentary created after the story — a kind of literary companion that highlights themes, symbolism, and patterns readers might enjoy exploring.
Author’s Note
This piece lays the foundation for Scar City (a play on scarcity), which is my spin on A Brave New World and a shift in POV. We are viewing the world through Authoritarians, the brainwashed, and the dying rebels. It is the path to utopia, not without sacrifice and a reset.
The Story Behind the Story
I’ve been tooling around with the idea of an ideal society. Going back to the first known societies, there had to have been someone willing to have a vision, enact that vision and enforce that vision. Think Sumerian, Mesopotamia, Egypt, to the modern-day authoritarians.
Those leaders had to crack down on dissent. Which leads me to the underlying premise of Orwell’s1984” and Huxley’s “A Brave New World.” These stories explain the downstream effects on exertion of control. We were brought into the story at the midpoint of the new world order, and we were not privy to its completion. I intend to explore that conclusion. How the in-story universe responds, accepts/rejects the ideals of one man’s vision of the future.
The story starts off with the first two lines: Gray. Everywhere. That sets the tone.
Then we’re introduced to Ophelia and Luka who emerge in a GATTACA run amok world, where genes are re-sequenced to craft the best version of a person. These are called Seeqers (maintaining its origin to sequencing) and the non-sequenced (Nonnies) who are essentially us—non modified humans.
The cross-genre intent is writing a socio-political dystopic thriller. Since they don’t have that intricate level of curation, this story will reside in the thriller category.
That said, the structure here is short scenes, quick punchy sentences, plenty of transitions from the main characters from each scene to the next and a pacing that has ebbs and flows of tension, drama, reflection, and repeat until the end.
Here is secret #1: If you look at the last few lines of each scene, the last sentence is where I ran into a wall. Rather than fight it and lose momentum, I accepted it and switch to another scene as needed. The in-world time was still ticking, which meant that whichever character I abandoned is inferred to carry on and have figured things out by the time I return to them later.
While it is easier for me to write all portions of one character’s parts all at once for a title like “The Void Protocol: A Serial Killer’s Guide to Stain Removal and other Life Hacks” (now available in paperback [979-8-9959202-1-2] and e-book [979-8-9959202-0-5]), I like the freshness of what one character could reveal about the others, so playing musical chairs this way keeps the story dynamic for me.
Here is secret #2: This is the few stories that I can think of that doesn’t incorporate any of “me” inside. No past traumas, no grief, gloom, or whatever. I’m pulling this out of my head from world events, history, and a dash of imagination.
I imagine Luka and Ophelia to be teens or pre-teens, but not adolescent. This shielding maintains some level of innocence about a dire world and their eventual demise which gives them hope to preserver, whereas others might give up after seeing the futility of getting to live another day. I’d probably just take the shot and get resynched—my flesh is weak; I’d go for a quicker death or jumping ship.
Copernicus and Julian are two characters that I really want to explore. The story has Copernicus as the protagonist. His story is about what absolute systems thinking becomes when one becomes an adherent to its rules and endgame. A key example of this is during the sector reports, where the bodies of the Nonnies are buried, Copernicus is only concerned with the logistical friction that the uncovered dirt will cause if it’s not gray like its surroundings.
Copernicus is all “mission-first,” similar to the way Thanos was, a tragic figure trying to avoid the mistakes of the past. The challenge for me will be to shift the perspective to an over-the-shoulder look at the world through Copernicus’s eyes. In one sense, I can have him do everything opposite of what I believe and call it a day, but I want him to be a complex person that we root for, while realizing what we’re rooting for him as he continues towards his goal.
I’m not sure how much of the Nonnies I’ll feature, because I’m looking forward to writing about how the Seeqers view the Nonnies. I want to get into the head of one of them and see what their reactions are to seeing color and having the carefully curated world of Copernicus show cracks. Think—-The Truman Show, I’ve written the facade, now the true story begins.
As far as craft goes, the revision process for this piece was to ensure there was enough of the different senses spread across relevant areas. As I read this finished version, there’s always room to show more, but that would kill the pacing for this piece. Thrillers are meant to move fast, like looking out of a subway or train window, there’s enough information to appreciate where you’re at, but not enough details to linger.
Thanks for joining me once again at the peripheral edge.
See you next time.
—Daniel