Chapter one

Chapter 1

"The complete text on computer literature and what they mean- uh isn’t that an interesting title for a class"
'Literature- what a funny word for describing lines of code. I wonder if that is the correct word for it. I suppose it is what’s to say that it is not.'
“It’s just a class that goes over lines of code for the accountant program. I already watch the video synopsis on it." charlotte looked at her father who was currently surfing through the email that had been sent with her acceptance letter, had all of her current running classes on computer tech and analysis programs.
She sighed somewhat disappointed. "Its-" deep breath “it is just a bunch of numbers daddy, stacked on to lines of code that we get to joyfully sit through and sort out." only slightly sarcastic.
Mr. Johnson-smith looked over his glasses to peer at his young daughter slouching in her chair glazing over staring out into the sky. Mr. Johnson-smith was a hard looking fellow with an all most permeant scowl on his face. Age had not been particularly kind to the man as his gut from his early 40s proved he fell out of exercising ten years ago and the end result was a man in his 50s with bad joints and an aching back.
His young daughter, on the other hand, was at the panicle of her youth, Just about to embark on a trip across the country of the untied world to attend a very prestigious college on accounting and computer technology. you would think such an adventure would have the girl all but bouncing in her seat not gazing out the window looking like she would rather be anywhere else but there.
“Now charlotte, do not look so sullen. It is the start of everything you could ever hope for," he tried to comfort her as best he could. His wife Amy was so much better at this.
"Sorry daddy, it just sounds so painfully dull-" she jumped as she was violently cut off.
“Don’t you dare utter another word, young lady." Mr. Johnson-smith raised his tone but not so loudly that it would disturb his wife in the other room.
Startled she opened to defend herself “But daddy-"
“Don’t you but daddy me where is the majority of your class going to college"
It was a rhetorical question and charlotte knew it “To ACE Tech"
"That’s right and what is the number one class that graduates with degrees in?"
Another one, “Accounting and Computer Tech." she monotones it. There was no winning this argument. She had lost it the moment she opened her mouth.
“Exactly. So what are you going to do?" her father asked pointedly, like the answer should have been common sense.
"Attend ACE tech and graduate with a major in accounting and computer tech with middle-grade marks," she recited it almost as if reading from a script, and just as well. For beginning creative or free-thinking was deeply frowned upon, not only in the Johnson-smith house but all over the united world content.
"Yes!" he coughed and lowered his tone “yes charlotte my dear, you must keep those outlandish opinions locked deep inside yourself. If you cannot keep them out of your head at all, you must."
Mr. Johnson-smith stood and placed down his I-reader in the far drawer then moved to sit in front of his daughter.
"I do love you my dear." he placed a hand on each cheek and raised her face to look at him in the eye. “If this was another time or place; a different world maybe things could be different, but this is the world we live in and to live in this world you must never be different or stand out in any way." He let his daughter go and stood near the window. Gazing out into the lazy heat of the gentle suburbia in which they lived.
“Be as free as you want my dear on the inside. In your dreams let yourself fly, but do not ever let that show on the outside. The outside world can never know. “Mr. Johnson-smith took a deep long sigh before continuing on. “Remember to do what you’re told; keep your head down and your mouth shut."
Charlotte turned away from her father and stared at the hardwood floor. How many times had she heard that mantra? She could recite it in her sleep, in four different languages if she wanted to. She hated it. She hated everything it stood for and everything it represented.
"Do you understand my dear?" Mr. Johnson-smith asked unknowingly the torrent that was raging.
‘No! No, I don’t! Why can’t I hate something that everyone else likes? Why can’t I ever disagree with an idea that someone from the council comes up with. Why!
Oh, the unlimited answers that stormed through her head at that given moment to such a simple question.
She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her curly mess of hair. "Yes, daddy."
Charlotte saw the large smile grow across her father’s face. She wanted to slap it off and call him a spineless idiot.
"Good, Good.” he started his back out for it had gotten stiff from tension.
It cracked "oh my! You know with all of the modern technology you would think they would have a cure by now for an old man’s aches." he chuckled
"Oh for heaven’s sake daddy," she stood to open the door that lead out into the living room.
"Come on now. Momma’s bought got dinner on and I’ll bet I can find something to 'cure' you of your aches" she chuckled charlotte may hate everything that her father put her through but she could never hate the man standing in front of her.
"Ooo I hope you mean a spot of spirits my dear." he waggled his finger at the girl.
“Of course; of course" she waved her father through the door.
The house of the Johnson-smith family was comfortable in its own right. A bit too old fashion some of the younger people would say but it was not totally unlivable. The living room was simplistic, a TV; couch; love seat and a coffee table was all the furniture that decorated the space. The white walls speckled with texture were original to the house along with the hardwood floors. No one could tell what tree the wood came from for it probably did not exist anymore. This would date the house to before the unity period which made the house very valuable in some historical way.
Charlotte always found the wood very pretty and unique. None of her friends had anything like it in their houses which she found slightly ironic. Her parents who were constantly forcing her to blend in buy a house that does exactly the opposite.
Beyond the living room laid the large kitchen with the old style granite counter tops and electrical oven which had been converted to thermal some years back. On one side of the kitchen her bedroom was nestled along with her own private bathroom. On the other side was her parents’ bedroom. The front door was in the living room while the back door was directly across from it in the kitchen. It made for a nice breeze when both doors were opened at once.
"Ah Amy my dear, Dinner will be ready soon I hope." her father nestled down into the couch.
“Yes; yes in a moment I was just getting things ready for my darling baby getting ready to go to college!"
Amy Johnson-smith was normally a quiet demure woman. Fairly short with long brown hair that she kept up neatly in a bun, she always wore some type of day sundress with a string of pearls her father bought her when charlotte was born.
However upon the news of the acceptance letter she had been donning on jeans and a tee-shirt, pulling out luggage and things from the attic getting them ready to pack for charlottes departure.
"Momma! Trying to get rid of me so quickly!" she fisted up her small hands and placed them on her hips, Squaring off with her mother.
"Oh honestly darling, as if i could ever actually get rid of you." her mother shook her head and peeked into the oven to check on her meatloaf.
“You would just keep coming back like those weeds I have been trying to kill for over a year now."
“Oh, thanks, mother, comparing me to a weed that you have been attempting to murder, very nice." Charlotte looked through a cabinet for a small glass. "At least i know where I get my morbid sense of humor from."
Amy closed the oven and gave her daughter a pointed look that made charlotte let out a loud gasp of laughter before returning to her search for her father’s favorite bottle of brandy
"oh honestly charlotte, but Matthew dear speaking of weeds-" Mrs. Johnson-smith started to bring up some work list for her husband of 25 years to do but he cut her off."
"Amy, darling, spare me the to-do-list until after charlotte leaves for college. We only have a week left with her after all."
"Only a week! Oh my goodness, and there is still so much to do" Amy flustered around the kitchen trying to do it all at once.
Charlotte smirked mischievously at her father who winked back. She had watched her father get out of his honey-do-lists like this all her life. She poured his cup of brandy and took it to him before addressing her now slightly frantic mother.
“Now momma settle yourself down. Daddy is just getting you all riled up. If it makes you feel any better momma, you and I will sit down tomorrow and make a list of everything."
"What an excellent idea! Yes that will be wonderful, and we can make a list on what we will need to buy as well." her mother as lovely as she was, is also fascinated by simple solutions.
'Yes,' charlotte thought 'she is perfect for this world.'
‘You can only be free in your dreams' and free she was. She flew. She flew beyond the ocean and the entire world that she knew. Into a land of large trees and tall skyscraping mountains. She ran wild with beasts that she did not know the name to. She ran and she was completely, utterly free. If only in her dreams, only until the morning come.
"Charlotte! Wake up sweetheart!"
“No, I don’t want to. Please let me stay free for just a bit longer." charlotte mumbled into her pillow.
“Darling you have to get up or you will miss the train." her father called up to her.
“Oh No, what a nightmare." enthusiastic sarcasm colored her voice.
The passing days did little to improve her mood about going to the tech college, but now she knew better than to voice them out loud to anyone. It wouldn’t do her any good.
“I am up. I’ll be ready in five minutes!" she called out half-heartedly to her parents. She was in no rush to hasten the nightmare.
After getting dressed in the only thing appropriate for a 20 hour train ride, sweats and an oversized hoodie, she sat in front of her vanity mirror preparing to do her hair when she caught her own eye in the reflection. Green eyes stared back at her, brown hair tumbled down behind her back in soft waves. A dashing of freckles smeared across her nose and under her eyes gave her a youthful appearance, a small button nose and a set of pick rose lips completed the picture.
‘So this is it. This is your whole life. Numbers line after line of code behind a desk until you wither and die. Oh please, please don’t let this be it for me. Oh god, whatever god is out there please save me. Take me away from this place please.' she had clasped her hands in a praying fashion begging for divine intervention.
"Charlotte darling, breakfast is ready. I made your favorite, pancakes and- what on earth are you doing." Amy just walked in on her daughter praying. They were not a super religious family. They did go to church when it had raised in popularity some time ago but the habits didn’t really stick.
"Nothing momma. Just..." she left it there hanging in the air. It was not a secret to either of her parents how she felt about the whole blasted thing.
“Charlotte come here child let your momma hold you a minute," she held her arms open and welcoming. Charlotte could not resist, she flung herself into her mother sobbing. “there, there now child."
"Momma, it’s just not right. It’s not right! I feel so trapped. Is there no escape?" she tried to whisper muffling the sounds of her cries into the shoulder of her momma.
“My baby. My sweetheart. This is a lesson you can only learn in time. You have to create your own escape where no one can see. You have to create your own happiness dear. There is not a person in the world that can do that for you."
Amy placed her hands on charlotte shoulders and pushed her back to get a good look at her face. “In the meantime the most important thing to remember is to do as you are told, keep your head down and mouth shut.”
‘There is that stupid phrase again' she felt as if she could punch something
" also, dear do not ever forget to keep dying your hair, the dark shade of brown, if anyone knew you had blonde hair..." her mother visibly shuttered.
“Yes, momma I know don’t worry. I won’t forget."
“good dear good, if only there was some way we could cover your green eyes but... oh well now dear finish getting ready the train will be leaving soon and i am sure you will want to eat first." she bustled out of the room leaving her only child to face the harsh reality, the only escape is a perminate one.
The ride to the train station was uneventful at best. Charlotte hugged her mother; kissed her father on the cheek and said her farewell.
A twenty-hour train ride with nothing but her own mind to keep her company. It was a dangerous place to be.
‘This world is so messed up' she gazed out the window gazing wondering. ' When did it go to hell' it couldn’t have always been like this.'
No one truly knew what started the final world war, but the aftermath the powerhouses decided that all these different worlds and cultures were to blame. So the moved and exported all the peoples to a continent that is now called the united world. From there they had sat up a code, a status queue, if you will that no one could deviate from under penalty of death.
This included everything from what you said; how you dressed; to your physical appearance. Some that charlotte learned oh to well so fast. Her natural blonde hair would be her one-way ticket to death. Such un-naturalness would have to be put down according to the law.
She loved her parents and she understood exactly why they did all they could to protect her, but sometimes she wondered. Just a moment, a dark thought would pass through every once in a while. ‘Maybe it would have been better to just flaunt it; go down in flames' most thoughts were squashed very quickly by own shame. That, however, did not stop them from suffusing.
Two hours into the train ride and she were going to lose her mind. With her forehead pressed against the pane of the window straining to see any of the countrysides, but the train was moving too fast to see anything other than plain green fields.
Loud laughter brought her attention from the one color country to the passengers sitting in front of her.
“I cannot believe she had the nerve to even show up. I mean who does she think she is?"
“I am amazed at the fact that she would disrespect you like that."
Two black haired girl’s heads just peeked over the top of the chairs. For a second charlottes cheek heated up in shame, they were talking about her right?
"If I ever see that Victoria again it will be all too soon."
"Oh speaking of seeing again, did anyone catch the last episode ..."
Charlotte drowned out the rest of their conversation. It didn’t protein to her anymore. She took this moment through to get acquainted with the other passengers on the train.
Across the aisle from her sat a business man. Well, what she assumed was a business man, in his 40s. He was dressed in a three-piece gray suit that was unbuttoned for the long journey, she suspected that he lose the coat before half the ride was over. The man was completely absorbed in typing away at his laptop ignoring everyone.
Behind her an older gentleman was lightly snoring; dressed in his Sunday best. The man’s cane was leaning up against the window slightly tapping every time the train shifted. The old man had a leather face that looked like it had seen better days. Even in sleep, the man seemed tense.
Several seats up a mother and young child sat playing with an online deck of cards keeping the young one occupied no doubt. Which charlotte was very grateful for. The last thing she wanted to deal with was a screaming baby.
‘The lunch tray should be coming round soon. I wonder what they will serve.' she had never been on a train ride that served food on its ride. This was really the first time she had ever left home. It would be very exciting if it wasn’t where she was going.
‘On the next stop i should just get off and never look back.' it was a fleeting thought that was quickly put to rest by another. ‘But where would I go where I could be free.'
It was such a ridiculous notion that it almost made her laugh out loud, instead she just snorted and sent her gaze back out the window. She should be appalled at the idea of running away, but the deep ache in her heart screamed. That was really what she wanted. She realized in her heart truly more than anything she wanted to do something spontaneous; something different, crazy even.
The train jerked violently, it sent people flying from their seats and suitcases were scattered all over the floor. Charlotte ended up half out of her seat her legs tangled in her carryon bag that she had seated on the floor. The ladies in front of her had ended on top of each other with high pitched squealing.
the baby a few rows up started crying hysterically as the mother frantically searched her child over for she assumed any injuries before attempting to coddle the child.
The businessman had to have been the most enraged of all. When the train jerked his laptop had hit the ground hard and turned black. Suggesting that a wire came loose. As soon as he could the man was on his feet scrambling to get his computer. He gave an undignified yell when it would not turn on, his face turning purple.
"What is going on? Attendant...Attendant! I demand to speak to the conductor! Attendant!"
Surprisingly enough the old man behind charlotte did not waken or even stir. In fact, he was still asleep.
Charlotte got shakily to her feet using the chair for support she glanced out the window. The train was still going extremely fast but, this time, charlotte could make out the individual trunks of the trees whereas before they were just one big brown wall.
She looked left and right down the train car. People were slowly getting up gathering their fallen objects muttering to themselves, under their breath.
"Must have been a loose rail I reckon"
Charlotte's head whipped around. Behind her seat, the old man was looking out the window. She could see now that he had his seat belt on.
“A loose rail? Could that be possible on such a main railway?" she asked him.
"When he turned to look at her she felt her heart leap into her throat.
The old man had blue eyes. Crisp, clean, sharp blue eyes, they had the shade of the sky and frozen ice on a clear pond. They were an oddity and such an oddity should have been put down a long time ago.
'How did he manage to live such a long time with those blue eyes.' she found herself staring, they were quite beautiful.
"The men who built this railroad were just as human as you or I. And humans make mistakes. Besides do you know how old this ol’ rail is, time has a way changing things. Wearing them down till they break."
He had an odd accent to him, one charlotte had not heard before. She knew that the east coast had their own way of saying things she just did not realize how exaggerated it was.
“Are you from the east Mr...?”
"Beroudoux. Charles Beroudoux and no I am not."
“Sorry, Mr. Beroudoux my name is Charlotte Johnson-smith. If you do not mind my asking your accent, it is not one I have ever heard."
"Oh, and you have traveled the world, have heard lots of men speak have you."
Panic set in. she did not want to offend the old man, " no....i-i am sorry i haven’t I am sorry if I have-"
He cut her off “calm down child I was only teasing yeah." he chuckled” I am an old man miss Charlotte I have to get amusement somehow."
Charlotte found herself smiling he was different. Different was fun.
“Now Miss Charlotte why don’t you entertain these old bones and tell me about yourself." he patted the seat next to him, she was all too happy to join him and she was just about to when the door of the car opened and a red-faced man stepped through.
He was fat. There is just no other way to put it. Each side of him touched the sides on either side of the isle. There would be no way to get around him if you needed. He was short in the legs and arms; they looked as if they were being absorbed back into his body. The train uniform looked like it was suffocating him as he came down the aisle huffing and puffing like he had just done the five-mile sprint.
"Attendant! There you are, where have you been foolish man! Look at what has become of my laptop. All of my computer work was on that laptop." the businessman was practically screaming at the top of his lungs. The poor attendant looked as if he was about to keel over at any minute.
“I-I am very sorry s-s-sir...I-if I c-c-could just get th-through..." she stuttered nasally
“Look at my computer you stuttering imbecile! It is completely ruined! I demand compensation"
“I-I c-c-can't authorize Th-that s-s-sir."
"What do you mean you can’t authorize it?"
Charlotte looked back at Mr. Beroudoux; to her surprise, he looked to have fallen back asleep.
‘The train jerk could have really hurt him, he looks older than dirt.' concerned for his health, she reached over the seat to shake him awake when she felt a sharp thump on her seat. She looked down; his cane was settling down as a wrinkled finger waggled at her 'no'.
‘He is faking. Why on earth is he pretending to be asleep.' she pondered but never the less she leaned back and kept her mouth shut. She would ask him once things settled down.
The actual time that the businessman and the attendant squabbled remained uncounted but charlotte estimated that twenty minutes or so before the dispute was finally settled. The businessman would have to follow the attendant to the front car to get in touch with the actual owner of the train.
Once the screaming match was over the car had settled into an odd kind of silence.
"Will you sit by me miss charlotte, keep an old man company on this long train ride."
She looked at Mr. Beroudoux and smiled. "Yes sir, let me just gather my bag."
She scooped up her duffel that was still haphazardly skewed on the floor and quickly moved over. "I never did ask you Mr. Beroudoux, if you were alright. That jarring train jerk caused everyone a few bruises I suppose," she settled politely in, keeping her legs crossed and hands folded nicely in her lap. She should act the part of a lady even if she looked like a bum.
"Please Miss Charlotte, Charles is just fine. And yes my dear I am perfectly unharmed," he waved off her concern with a flick of his wrist.
"That is a relief, when you had suddenly seemed to have passed out, I was worried." she, not subtlety, hinted as to her question.
"Well then, straight to the point aren’t you," he chuckled under his breath. “At least, you attempted to be tactful. That is, at least, more than we can say for our other passenger friends hmm," he grinned ear to ear has his eyes sparkled.
Charlotte was memorized "I do apologize; I meant no disrespect by it. It is just...very odd." she was tiptoeing as lightly as she could. She did not want to make him angry. If she did then maybe he wouldn’t want to talk to her anymore.
"Yes there are lots of odd things in this world, for example, why is there a young, pretty girl riding a non-stop train across the entire breath of the united world alone?" His eyes sparkled with mischief but his tone was colored with a high note of concern. "Going to college, I presume?"
Charlotte cringed "am I that predictable?"
"Well, why else you a young child like yourself be going to the east?"
"Yes, what other reason could there be?" she sagged and sighed deeply.
"That bothers you," it was not a question.
She glanced sideways at him then back around the train. She shifted in her seat; these were dangerous waters she was treading. Complaining to their parents was one thing, to a complete stranger was another. Even if he did have those compelling blue eyes.
"You have blue eyes." she whispered abruptly avoiding the answer.
He laughed out loud. "How very observant of you."
She laughed at herself. "How stupid did that sound, what I meant was how? How do you still have blue eyes?"
"That child is a very long story. Not many people understand, but perhaps you will. Although dear I cannot divulge everything to you. We all have secrets to keep." He looked out the window solemnly.
Charlotte felt a chill run up her spine. 'What did he mean by that? What does he know?'
"Tell me, child, what secrets do you have to keep?"
Charlotte caught her breath. The question seemed like a normal question but it came out as a suspicious statement. 'He Knows'
"I- uh...well I-I just don’t...um" She stuttered as her palms got clammy. She was teeter tottering between denying everything venomously to wanting to spill her guts out to this man. She was afraid, afraid of the outcome. What if this is just a trick.
He laughed loudly at her insecurity and charlottes cheeks heated up in shame. "Lord have mercy, it’s alright child. I am not asking you to bear your soul," he lowered his voice to a whisper. "But nest time you try to dye your hair make sure to get the little under hairs on your neck."
Her hand flew up to the back of her neck and eyed the train nervously. 'Did anyone see, oh my god, stupid, stupid.'
"You won’t tell anyone will you" she was practically begging.
"Might as well rat myself out while I am at it shouldn’t I, with these blue eyes of mine." He gave her a reassuring smile "No child, your secrets are safe."
"If you take no offense and don’t mind me asking. How do you manage to hide them with no contacts?"
"HA! Well, my dear, it is quite simple. No one pays attention to old men anymore. Just the same way you have been able to ride this train with a patch of blonde hair. People don’t pay attention to things like that anymore. The Difference fear has long been gone. I would be surprised if kids your age even know what I am talking about."
"Sure we do, we learned it in school."
His chest puffed up a bit. "That dribble they shove down your throats." He scowled and grumbled out the window. "Whatever they told you, child, you might as well forget it. Half of it is edited and the other half is bullshit."
Ignorance is not something she was accustomed to. "Well how would you know, were you there Mr. Beroudoux?" it came off a bit snappish, even to her ears.
"Down child, don’t get your breeches in a twist. I am not calling you stupid. Only that the history your force-fed is not technically accurate." a small smile played on his lips.
A quiet settled over them for a long while, stewing in their thoughts but curiosity came over her. "How do you know Mr. Beroudoux?"
"Because I was there my dear."
"How? That was nearly 90 years ago." She exclaimed, 'I know he looked old, but not nearly 100'
"Yes I am well aware; I was a very young lad at the time mind you. I was seven at the time."
"But that would make you over 100 years old..."
"97 actually," he grinned sheepishly.
97 that was unheard of, Charlotte didn’t think she knew anyone, who knew anyone, who knew anyone that was over 70 at the oldest. Shoot her parents were in their late 50s and that was considered old.
"Well if it is any constellation Charles, you look extremely good for 97."
"Thank you my dear. It comes from the old genetics."
"The old genetics?" her brows came together.
"Yes, the old genetics, do you ever wonder why you never see any elderly people around. In their 80s or even 90s."
She shook her head.
"That is because they have all died out dear, during the Difference War," He stated matter-of-factly.
"You mean the last world war? What really happened during the war?" she wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted to hear the truth.
"It is a very long story my dear, one I am afraid is much too long for this train ride."
She felt her shoulders sag a bit.
"But I can leave you with this to ponder. The war was not to create complete equality like you have been told. The war itself wasn’t even original, my grandfather told me once that is was...oh how did he put it - 'The worst remake of its kind'"
"Oh the stories you could tell." she slammed her hand over mouth; she did not mean to say that out loud. Her cheeks flamed up.
He laughed "I suppose I could, Couldn’t I? I have given thought to writing a book at one time but gave up on the idea."
"A book?"
"Yes, child a book, the written word."
Shocked played across her face, she could feel it. She shifted her eyes around the train to make sure that none heard him. "Charles! That is completely illegal! plausible cause for a sentence to death without trial." She hushed her panicked tone to a whisper.
"I am well aware of the law child; I quite simply do not care."
A moment of shocked silence passed between them. "Have you ever actually seen a book, Charlotte?" He asked her all joking had left his tone. A seriousness took over that seemed well out of place in this old man.
Charlotte's first reaction was to shout No absolutely not, but she managed to keep it civil. "I most certainly have not, Mr. Beroudoux, I am a law abiding woman sir."
"I have no doubt dear, you are a good girl, and it was a silly question." He was quiet for a moment then asked a question that would change her life forever, not that she knew it.
"Would you like to read a book?"
The question posed many different responses; the rational side was screaming, 'red flag! Red flag! You are a decent respectable girl with a good future ahead of you. Do not blow it for this old man, what would your parents say' so on and so forth.
However, the other side, the side of her so desperately clawing its way out. the side that wanted to be free only needed to whisper. 'yeah but do you really want to lose this chance... you may never get this chance again, do you really want to go through your whole life regretting this moment, all because you are afraid...'
"Yes." It came out a quiet whisper.
He reached down into a fairly small bag at his feet and pulled out a very small leather bound book. It was very old, clearly marked by its yellow pages. He looked at it longingly before turning to charlotte. She had turned to fully face Charles to help block the book from other eyes.
"This is no ordinary book child. So you are fully aware of what will happen, this book will transport you to a place of freedom, of magic and most of all adventure. By the time you come out of it, you will not be the same as you went in. Be sure before you begin Charlotte, you cannot go back once you have begun."
He placed the little book into her hands. She just stared at it for a moment. With such a cryptic message she was slow to start. She looked at Charles who gave her an encouraging smile.
She took a deep breath before cracking open the cover. The only word on the opening page was Tiressea, written in a fine calligraphy.
She turned the page and read out loud. "She came with the vortex."
Charlotte blinked and felt a light tug on her person before losing all consciousness of the world around her.