I. Clean Cuts

I

Clean Cuts
The Upstart

 

Steef did his best to ignore the inane chatter coming from the girl in the fur coat he had brought along to see the War. Professionally, she was the perfect move, but everything about her bored him. He knew people in his line of work that would kill for a night out with her: she was wealthy, beautiful, royal and, above all, a red-headed rarity. Her novelty as one of the few dozen redheads left in the world had carried her most of her life. That and her father’s bottomless bank account. He, however, cared little for the fiery follicles and so instead tried to appreciate the significance of the structure before him.

 

There was more to the Hendecagon than just the imposing nature of its architecture, as awe-inspiring as it may be. It was a symbol of their advanced societal civility in an increasingly uncivilized world. Who, thirty years ago, would have guessed that the answer to the Interstate Wars wasn’t the eradication of military conflict but rather its regulation? It was a marvel, really, that"

 

“Steefie, why they gotta keep it so cold in here?” Steef sighed with annoyance and closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself. He had really had something going there. “Why worry yourself about it, dear, when it gives you such an outstanding excuse to wear that fine coat of dog fur?” He put on his most winning smile and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. She pulled the coat tighter and smiled up at him, all-forgiving and as trusting as a small child.

 

Her father was a nuclear energy tycoon and her benefit potential far outweighed her uncanny ability to curtail his most profound inner thoughts. Having been born and raised in the Heartland Oligarchy of Castes, the self-aggrandizing title the ruling Families of his home State had given themselves, he understood better than anybody the limitations one faced when not associated with the right people. He had lied, forged, tricked and coerced his way up to the more acceptable business castes before immigrating further east. He was always one lie away from gaining what he wanted and couldn’t have. He was also one lie away from losing it all.

 

“Gentlemen and gentlewomen, the War will break out in five minutes. Please make way to your designated seating accommodations so we can position everyone for optimal viewing of the War. Thank you all.”

 

Her baleful eyes reached up to his again and he steeled himself for the empty conversation he knew was inevitably forthcoming. “Why didn’t we get better a better compartment, Steefie? I know the hover stalls haven’t gone up yet, but those up front are bigger than ours, and you know they’ll end up closer with a better view. Couldn’t we have paid more?”

 

Steef chuckled to himself. He knew money had never been a literal object for her, merely a concept that had never caused any obstruction to her extravagant lifestyle. Having been born into more modest means, Steef had an appreciably more practical view of his own finances. Starting with nothing had taught him to value every single thing he owned and to never stop hungering for more.

 

 He had learned everything the hard way. It seemed to be his lot in life. He crawled up from the forgotten slums of old Ohio cities, taught himself how to read and write, then how to counterfeit and bribe until finally he scaled the economic ranks of the Heartland business arena. Through skill and business acumen, he had seized a high level position at an arms company under the employ of a prominent Family member. Working for an organization headed up by one of the ruling oligarchs had a prestige to it rarely found elsewhere in the State.

 

It was there, however, that he learned there was a caste-colored ceiling that he could never hope of forging his way into. So he had moved east for a chance at something more. The North-East Seaboard royalty were all about their connections, just like the Families back in the Heartland. At least that was familiar.

 

 The redhead’s presence tonight was far more planned and negotiated than her simple mind would have understood. It had taken weeks to get a meeting with her father. He had submitted letters of reference and bank statements, gone through screening process after screening process, until finally he had been granted an audience. The very walls of the mansion had smelled like money. His charms had worked then and he knew they had to work now.

 

“Money can get you many places, my sweet, but there are some seats that even money cannot purchase.” A look of confusion flashed across her face, a mind confronted with a problem it hadn’t encountered before. He could almost see the machinations of her mind working through it. “It’s because you’re not a royal? But that’s not fair! I am. That should count, somehow.” Her naïveté was palpable.

 

“The Committee will fill their coffers with anyone who can afford these tickets, but even they respect the hierarchy of the different States. There will always be seats available for the Pacific Kingdom royalty, the Texan Executive Governors, the Dixie Generals, even a South Florgia Chief, if one ever comes calling.” Slow understanding and disappointment was painted on her face as thick as makeup. “Perhaps…” He stopped suddenly, holding his silence and hoping for the opportunity he knew she would traipse into.

 

“What? What is it?” Her eyes begged him to fix things and give her what she wanted. Steef smiled the most genuine grin he could muster as he responded, “If you and I were to become engaged and married, then I too would be royalty and you and I could sit in whichever seats we wanted.” He had already negotiated and navigated his way to an agreement with her father the Baron; this was the simple yet crucial final step. Her blush and suddenly shy nature came off her in a glow. But then her eyes darted to the side and he knew something dangerous had occurred to her.

 

“Something troubling you?” he asked nonchalantly. “I just…” Her efforts were excruciating, but he held his jovial countenance as a dam against the waters. “I’m the daughter of a Baron. Shouldn’t I marry another royal, like a Prince?” This paramount final moment must pull the trap tight or all he had worked for would be lost. “Of course you could, if you wanted that. But I would be made a Prince upon our marriage and aren’t we having a marvelous time tonight? If we were to marry, there would be many more nights like tonight. Wouldn’t you like that?”

 

He could feel her slipping out of his grasp. The damned royalty and their damned artificial sense of superiority! He had the business sense of any three royals and yet he was reduced to pleading with this spoiled brat of a girl. Forcing the desperation from his voice, he lightly touched her hand and crooned, “Perhaps we’ll talk about that later. The War should be breaking out soon and there are high Stakes tonight.”

 

He fought the urge to go into too much detail. He was fascinated by the political process of determining what the Stakes would be for each war. The States spent untold amounts of money on armies of lobbyists that rivaled even their own armed Armies. The Stakes tonight certainly rang of a superior effort resulting in an unbalanced outcome. He knew none of this would interest her, so he attempted to put it in as simple and understandable terms as possible.

 

 “The Pacific Kingdom offered up a sizable piece of their Washington Territory for the victory conditions, which you would think would be generous, but somehow they convinced the Committee to rule that the arm of Idaho, western Montana and all of Wyoming would be put up against it! The strategic value of any one of those three far outweighs the geographical value of some pre-industrial forest region. Those lobbyists certainly earned their pay on this one.”

 

He could tell he was rapidly losing her attention, but he was too passionate about the subject to stop. “The imbalance is unprecedented! The Confederation of the Rockies stands to lose more, much more, namely the oil fields in Wyoming and the nuclear chains of Idaho.” Her saw her sigh and lean her head on her hand.

 

A painful few seconds passed before the lights mercifully began to lower and their seat pods rose to maneuver them into viewing position. He hoped for an exciting War. His entire future, for better or for worse, might depend on it. He was used to not having any control, having come from the lower ranks of a caste system, but he had felt obligated to resist the condition his entire life.

 

 

      With this, though, this final hurdle, he would finally achieve what no urchin from the Heartland was ever supposed to achieve. He would fight to his dying breath to have it, just as he always had before.

Author's Note

General reviews and comments would be appreciated.

Reviews

[Persona]

This is better than 'At the Zoo.' Your writerly voice is stronger than in the other story and we're following one central character who has opinions, but ones that aren't always positive. I like that he dislikes the redhead, instead of the story being that he admires her looks. The idea is good, but you don't get to the heart of the action. You focus too much on the small details without finding one strong thing to hook me in. The story's got too many elements in it. Also, read it again, because you repeated the same few paragraphs.

[Throok Mercer]

First of all, apologies for the paragraph replications. I was doing some creative copy and pasting from a source that had a dark background, so in the confusion, there were repeat paragraph. I think I fixed this one and I'll go through the others to check them out.

I think maybe my writing style just isn't your cup of tea (not as a judgment, either way). I think of this as more like a cross-section, a few minutes out of each person's life, from different perspectives and different places. All of these samples combine for a bigger picture. So my emphasis isn't in establishing a strong protagonist but as having a strong theme or story and weaving them together. At least, that's what I was going for.

There's definitely more action in the later chapters. Hopefully you'll like those. Appreciate your kind words and your feedback, and again, sorry for the technical difficulties.'