DYSTOPIA: Chapter 4: AURIEL

Sand shifted underfoot as Auriel made her way to the edge of the sea. Water, cold as ice, ebbed and flowed at her feet, the palest white, speckled with grains coarse against her soft skin. She wriggled tiny toes together, enjoying the primal feel of the sand. Silence descended on her like a sledgehammer, and she fell back, letting the water wash over her, filling her ears, her nose, and her mouth with its salty goodness. Her pink dress ballooned around her, and she giggled, thump-thumping with her arms, trying to get it to stay down.

She welcomed the grey of the overcast day, basking in its soft glow just before dusk. The beach was deserted; it always was. Access to natural spaces like this cove was severely restricted, deemed a Social Disunity Threat by the Council, an unsanctioned outlet for emotion that defied Ekom 2.0's omnipresent gaze. Only a handful of locals knew the treacherous path well enough to venture down, and seldom at sunset, when automated coastal drones increased their patrols. It took her an hour to get there along the defunct train tracks (trains now relics of a time when communal transport was allowed) and another hour’s walk to reach the deserted shore.

Auriel made the journey once a week. Auriel made the trip without fail. Always on a Monday.

It was Friday.
The day Auriel met Daph for the first time.

---

Auriel closed her eyes, becoming one with the sea, her hair flowing out around her like a halo. She breathed deeply, taking in water, her form rippling, molded by the tide. The whoosh of the ocean swelled in her ears, a roaring balm that drowned out the anguish of a hundred wounds absorbed in that one meeting. Sand flowed between fabric and stitches, turning pink to sand, and along with it, she became embedded in the ocean floor, touching base with Mother Nature, plugging into Her healing source.

She was not of this manufactured world; her essence was older, drawn from the earth's raw pulse, a living counterpoint to the city's synthetic existence. The ubiquitous surveillance algorithms, designed to track human energy signatures, merely registered her as a fluctuating environmental anomaly.

Auriel remained in stasis until the sun cast its first rosy glow across the waves. When she emerged, she was renewed, her skin aglow, her spirit humming, her colours alive. She licked her lips, tasting salt, and then, as a profound hunger took hold, trailed her tongue along tapered fingers, sucking deeply, tasting the earth, and once again feeling whole.

Thoughts of Daphne seemed less draining now that Auriel's renewal was complete. She wandered over to the nearby rocks where her red shoes were perched and sat down, letting the cool evening air brush over her.

Daphne had entered the reception area of the Table Bay Hotel, a designated Sanctioned Entertainment Centre, in a tizz, arriving late for the meet-and-greet. Auriel was struck by the muddy shade of brown emanating from her, the gloom expanding over a metre around her, shutting out the light. She had expected Daphne to be aglow with vibrant orange, the colour of confident command. Instead, this murky aura drained Auriel just looking at her.

Auriel circled the dark-haired beauty with the red lips and blue eyes, her polished elegance almost matching the majesty of the hotel’s opulent setting. People at the event were captivated, drawn to her. Auriel wanted to escape, but she couldn’t leave; she was hosting the event, and Daphne was the keynote speaker. She weaved in and out of the crowd of fifty, finding it wasn’t hard staying invisible in Daphne’s presence. Fifty eyes focused on Daphne. Fifty souls vying for her attention. Fifty shells mimicking her every move.

Five minutes to stage time.

Auriel moved in closer to introduce herself and give Daph her cue.

Daphne was standing off to one side, studying her cue cards. Auriel heard her take a deep breath, and then barely a whisper came a name: “Ben…” Again: “Ben…”

The word hung in the air like a spectre, pulling from Daphne a memory she thought had been sealed in Ekom’s neural cleanse. It slipped out anyway, raw and unprocessed, exposing a grief no algorithm could erase.

Auriel was struck by the colours so intense they fed her very soul. She glided towards Daphne, reaching into the light. It lit a spark inside, and a tear, unsanctioned and rare, rolled down her cheek.

Daphne turned, breaking the seal of memory as she sensed someone behind her. Her thoughts of Ben vanished in a blink, her mask snapping back into place, her smile fixed, her light dimmed, the windows to her soul locked down.

“Hi,” she said, automatic, her hand held out, the black silk of her sleeve covering half her fingers.

Auriel stepped back, the brown once again surrounding Daphne, drawing all the energy from her and leaving her weak.

“Who’s Ben?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

“None of your business, young lady. And you’d do well to remember that!” The words snapped out harsher than intended. Daphne flinched inwardly, already ashamed. She hated how easily she could be cracked open; she felt exposed, vulnerable, her demons once again roaming freely. The strictures of corporate and social control, instilled from birth, demanded absolute emotional containment, especially for someone in her position.

Auriel couldn’t summon the strength to challenge her. Instead, she extended her hand and, in her gentlest voice, a melody more than words, said, “Hi, I’m Auriel. I’m here to introduce you to your audience.”

Daphne took the hand offered and allowed it to linger in hers. “You are a peculiar one, aren’t you?” she said, not quite sure what to make of her. Yet she felt a wave of inexplicable energy swoop over her, lifting her spirits and moving her forward with a chutzpah she hadn’t felt in years.

She stepped up to the podium. The crowd fell silent. Her speech: “Cultivating Company Culture”, a carefully crafted directive to manage the widespread disillusionment among employees in the Market Zone hit home with many of the executives at the symposium.

Five minutes later, Daphne stepped off the podium to muted applause. She glanced furtively around, brushing aside the hands reaching for her, trying to draw her back in. Then she saw them: red patent leather shoes disappearing up the escalator, out of view and with them, her newfound hope.

A pang of dismay swept over her as she swept out of the hotel and made her way home. She didn’t want to be alone. She longed for her bot to be at the apartment to fuss over her but she was in for repairs.

“Do you want me to run you a bath, ma’am?” it would say.
The water will do you good, you’ll see.

Daphne hurried to her car, knowing all the while that no one would be home to greet her.

---

“Hi, Auriel,” said the familiar voice behind her.

“Hi!” she replied, reaching for her shoes.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

She nodded, grabbing hold of his hands, rough, carpenter’s hands. She looked at his leathery face in the glow of his torch, a simple, old-world device, and reached out to stroke his cheek.

He was an unregistered, like so many others who lived beyond the city’s rigid structure, relying on ancient trade and forgotten knowledge. Yet in his eyes, Auriel knew a depth that transcended the despair of the forgotten, a stillness that seemed to draw strength from the very earth beneath them.

“I’ll show you the way,” he said. “Precious one.”

Holding on tightly, she followed him in red heels striking treacherous terrain without faltering.

She had so much work to do.
And next time,
she wouldn’t run away.